by K. C. Crowne
“I would rather take my chances on the road, Owen,” she said. “I know we can make it through.”
“You may be sure, but I'm not,” I said. “And I can't let anything happen to you.”
“Stop trying to be a hero, Owen,” she said.
“It's not about being a hero, Sarah,” I said. “Then what is it about?” she shouted back.
“You're one of the few people in that house who hasn't treated me like shit,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips. “Most of the time, at least. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I can’t.”
Her face softened somewhat, and there was that beautiful woman that I'd lusted after for months. She stared at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide. I resisted the urge to kiss her, I knew there was too much going on.
We stood there awkwardly staring at each other for a moment, as gusts of hot wind blew ash and debris by us. The air between us was thick with tension but lacked the anger that had marked it before. A loud gust pelted us with grit and ash, reminding me of the situation at hand. The conversation would have to wait for a little bit. If we survived the night, I planned on making a point to revisit it.
“Call Austin again,” I said. “Keep trying until you get through.”
She tried another half a dozen times before her face lit up. “Austin, it's Sarah,” she yelled into the phone.
Her face grew pinched and she seemed to be concentrating – as if she couldn't hear him. Jacklyn and Eric made their way over to me, each of them with rags over their noses. I grabbed a couple of t-shirts out of the back of my truck and followed suit.
They both looked at me with wide eyes, and I just shrugged. I knew about as much as they did about what Sarah and Austin were talking about at that point.
“You two should probably go into the house and get out of this shit,” I said. “You don't want to be breathing it in for too long.”
They exchanged a look, and then nodded to me. The pair rushed across the yard and disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind them. Holding the shirt over my nose and mouth, I looked at the orangish-red glow in the sky. It was growing brighter, meaning the flames were coming closer. The gust of wind that blew by me roared like a beast, carrying with it the scent of the blaze – and the scent of our death if we didn't find a way out of there.
Sarah hung up the phone and looked to me. I handed her the t-shirt, and she put it over her nose and mouth. Together, we walked back toward the barn and slipped inside, wanting to be out of the shit out there. With the air a little better inside the barn, we were able to take the shirts off our faces and communicate a little easier.
“They're on their way,” she said.
The relief that rolled through me was strong. “I knew they would be.”
She bit her lip and looked upset. “Austin was pissed.”
I shrugged. “I imagine he was,” I said. “But we knew that was a risk coming out here.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know,” she replied. “I just feel bad that I dragged you into this mess.”
“I dragged myself into it,” I said. “And, I'll deal with whatever fallout comes. I wasn't just going to sit on my hands when your sister needed help.”
“I appreciate everything you've done, Owen,” she said softly. “I just hate that this could cost you your job.”
I shrugged again. “If it does, it does,” I said. “At least I know I did what I did for the right reasons.”
“Don't worry,” she said. “I'm going to take up this fight if it comes to that. You did nothing wrong. You were only trying to help.”
A rueful chuckle escaped me. “Doesn't much seem to matter to Austin.”
Her smile was as wry as mine. “I'll make it matter. Don't worry about a thing.”
“We'll see,” I said.
We stood in silence for several long moments, our gazes locked. It felt like something passed between us, some form of unspoken communication, though I had no idea what was being said on her end. The air between us was thick with awkwardness, and an air of expectation. Expectation of what, I didn't know.
But then she looked away, and the moment passed. When she returned her gaze to mine, she gave me a small smile.
“Since we have time, can you finally answer my question?” she asked.
“Which question was that?” I asked.
“The question about how you knew how to birth that foal,” she said, her smile returning.
Color was also coming back to her cheeks and she seemed to be more relaxed. I hadn't seen her relax in my presence for a long time, and the change from her usual tension and hostility was a nice change of pace.
“I told you –”
“Yeah, there's a lot I don't know about you, I get it,” she said. “But I want to know, Owen. So tell me, please?”
No one had ever given a damn about me before. No one. That wasn't being overly dramatic, or self-pitying, it was just stating a fact. My parents had only cared about one thing – money and their damn legacy. Everyone I worked with thought I was the rich kid who'd had it easy growing up. Life on easy street, right?
No one even bothered to ask me about my reasons for bucking the tradition of my family and following a different career path than the one they'd wanted to hand to me. No one cared about my lonely childhood. All they saw was a rich kid. That's all anybody ever saw, and when I allowed myself to grow close to somebody, I always had to wonder, if it was me they were interested in, or my money.
Sarah was different, though. She actually seemed to care about me as a person. My heart swelled as I looked at her, and before I realized what was happening, I'd closed the distance between us and she was in my arms. I don't know who kissed who first, but her lips were soft and sweet against mine and her mouth parted for me, inviting my tongue in to taste her.
She wrapped herself around me, and we ended up pressed against one of the horse trailers. Our kissing grew in passion and intensity quickly, and we both fumbled at each other's clothes. As if driven by some hunger or primal need, we went straight for what mattered. My pants were soon around my ankles, and hers were down around her knees, and my erection pressed between those firm thighs as she breathed heavily against me.
I stared deep into her eyes as I thrust myself into her. She cried out, her nails digging into my back as I buried my cock deep inside of her. She was wet already, and it made slipping into her easy. I reveled the feeling of her being so wet for me. Knowing that she wanted me as much as I'd wanted her only fed my primal urge to fuck her hard, to take her. To make her mine.
“Yes, Owen, yes,” Sarah moaned.
Her pussy tightened around my prick, her entire body shuddered against me. Each and every thrust of my cock went deeper and deeper, her pussy clenching my dick hard, as I brought her ever so closer to orgasm. God, all I wanted was to make her come, to make her feel as good as she made me feel.
I clenched my teeth, fighting off my own orgasm as she writhed against me. The trailer was now rocking heavily, drawing a few concerned neighs from the horses as the force of my thrusts pressed her against it. My knees began to buckle from the pleasure coursing through my body.
Picking her up, I carried her away from the trailer and then laid her down onto a hay bale on the ground. Hovering above her, I had more momentum, and continued burying myself inside of her. My mouth moved over her neck, kissing and sucking as I fucked her; as I claimed her. She was still wrapped around me, her legs quivering as she screamed out loud.
“I'm coming,” she shouted. “Fuck yes, Owen. I'm coming.”
“Yes, come for me, Sarah,” I groaned.
Her pussy spasmed around my cock, squeezing it tighter in its velvety vice. The sensations that course through me, pushed me over the edge, and I lost it. Streams of cum shot out of me, filling her up as I grunted, burying myself inside of her one last time.
I collapsed on top of her, our breathing ragged, before rolling over and lying beside her. Sarah moved to where she was resting her head on my chest, and I w
rapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
I could see myself falling in love with this woman, if I hadn't already. She was everything I wanted in a partner – and then some. In my eyes, Sarah was damn near living perfection.
We laid there, out in the open, for what felt like an eternity until she looked up at me and grinned.
“And you still haven't answered my question,” she said.
I laughed, unable to contain the smile on my own face any longer. “About how I knew how to deliver the foal?”
“Yes,” she said. “Tell me, please?”
I pushed a strand of hair away from her face, staring deep into her beautiful eyes.
“Okay, but it's a long story.”
“I think we have some time before they get here,” she said.
Closing my eyes, images of my childhood flashed before my eyes. Some of the memories were painful – others, like Martha and the horses, were not.
“Growing up, my parents worked a lot. They were never really home, and I'm an only child, so I had no one to play with,” I said. “I'd usually end up at our stables with the stable hand, Martha, who taught me everything I know.”
“You had stables growing up?” she asked me.
“Yeah, my mom was one of those horse girls,” I said.
“I know the type,” Sarah said, chuckling. “Go on.”
“Anyway, I spent a lot of time with the horses. I didn't have many friends, no family. The horses were all I had,” I said. “Animals seemed to understand me better than humans.”
“That's why you're vegan, huh?”
“You really thought I did it for my health? Please, no,” I laughed. “I love animals, always have. Especially horses.”
“So Martha taught you how to deliver foals?” Sarah asked.
I nodded. “Among other things, but yeah. We had a horse that was in labor once – a breech birth like with Silver. Martha made me get up in there and actually help, rather than stand back and watch. She practically made me deliver the foal myself. My parents were pissed when they found out. Fired her, but I complained until they brought her back on.”
My hands moved through Sarah's hair, stroking her face as I talked. At one time, the idea of opening myself up like this would have scared me. It's not something I would have done willingly. But she was listening, and she seemed interested. She also seemed to care. I felt safe with her.
“So why didn't you work at the stables like Martha?” she asked. “Why become a firefighter?”
“Because I wanted to do more. Saving one foal felt amazing, yes, but I knew I could do more than that. There was a fire at the stable when I was a boy. Killed a couple horses, but no people were injured at the time,” I said softly. “I remember being terrified of fire for a long time after that. I had nightmares for months, maybe even years, after that. But eventually, I decided to conquer that fear, and hopefully save lives in the process. I wanted my life to matter. Unlike my dad who sat behind a desk and only cared about the bottom line. He values money more than people. I wanted more out of my life, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said.
I kissed her forehead.
“I figured you did,” I said.
She was one of the few people in this world I figured would know what I meant.
“We should get dressed,” she said. “I don't know how long it's going to take for them to get to us.”
“Probably a good idea,” I replied. “We probably don't want them finding us like this.”
As I sat up though, the strangeness of the situation came crashing down over me. With so much chaos and destruction going on outside, to share this beautiful, tender moment with Sarah just seemed so out of place.
Yet, there was no place else in the world I wanted to be in that moment, but right there.
With her.
Austin
“Tomorrow, I want you and your team up on this ridge,” he said, pointing to the map. “The fire is sweeping up from the valley, but I think if we can get ahead of it, and dig out a fire break, we might be able to keep it from spreading inward.”
I looked at the map and nodded but pulled the tablet that was sitting unused on the table and called up the footage from the drone flying overhead. Technology had made our work a little bit easier – emphasis on the little bit. We still had to deal with these monsters ourselves, and they were always unpredictable, at best. But, with drones that could give us real-time footage, it allowed us to at least plan a little bit better when deploying our resources. It made us more efficient, and better prepared for the fight.
Which was why I didn't understand how guys like Chief Quinn didn't embrace it. He was still married to old school maps and planning based on those. He made little to no use of the available technology to prepare his team – and when you were dealing with something as nasty as a wildfire, the more prepared you could be, the better.
“Wind shifted,” I said. “The fire looks like it's headed away from the ridge and is burning up the valley now. Looks like it's headed for some structures. We can get ahead of it up here and save those structures. I think that needs to be the priority.”
A sour look crossed Quinn's face. I'd been on a few wildfire calls with him before, and he wasn't a man who enjoyed being contradicted. He ruled his house with an iron fist. Quinn was a man used to barking order at his crew and having them do exactly what he asked without question.
It was his house, so it wasn't my place to correct him. He could run it as he saw fit. For the most part, Quinn was a good man. A good chief. Took care of his people, and he got solid results. He'd been doing the job a long time and had the most experience of any of the rest of us in that tent. Out there though, in the middle of a wildfire, his wasn't the only voice that mattered. Nor was I one of his newbies he could badger and berate. I wouldn't bend to his will, and he didn't like that. It was one reason he and I weren't on each other's Christmas card lists.
“Wind could shift again,” he said.
“Could,” I replied, calling up some of the weather information we relied on. “The latest satellite tracking predicts the wind gusts will continue in the same direction, only increasing in strength tomorrow though.”
“You can't rely on that shit, Austin,” he grumbles. “Half of fighting wildfires is listening to your gut.”
“And the other half is relying on solid intel to put you and your team in a better position to knock this thing down, while keeping everybody alive,” I said.
The other chiefs in the room remained silent, all of them just watching the tense match between Quinn and me. None of them had the balls to speak up, but I could see by the look in their eyes that they thought I was right. Unlike Quinn, these guys were younger, and they embraced the technology Quinn dismissed out of hand.
“And besides,” I continued, “if the wind does shift again, we'll still have time to get back to the ridge and set up a fire break before it ever crests .”
Quinn looked at the map, then the drone footage, scowling down at the tablet. Quinn was an old school guy and good at his job, but for the first time, I started to wonder if it was time for him to step down. That he wasn't able to adjust with the times and relied more on gut than what he could see with his own two eyes, told me that he could no longer do the job as well as somebody younger and more open to the emerging technology that was helping us modernize the field of firefighting.
“If you deploy the way you're talking about, you could get the teams trapped in that valley, Austin,” he said.
“Unlikely,” I disagreed. “With the tankers dropping on the flanks, the fire is going to have no choice but to come straight up the valley. It won't have a chance to get around us. We'll be long gone if we see it breaking that way.”
Quinn grumbled under his breath. “It's too risky.”
“And you're playing it too conservative,” I said, my frustration growing. “Saving the homes in the path of that fire is the priority, Quinn. Even if the
wind does happen to shift, and it goes up the ridge like you think it will, it'll do nothing but burn open land. There aren't any structures for twenty miles in that direction. The homes at the head of that valley are being threatened, and our job is to protect them.”
The air inside the command tent was thick with tension. It would have been nice if one of the other chiefs had the balls to speak up one way or the other, but they were content to let us battle it out. Quinn looked at me with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. He wanted to argue, I could see it in his face, but I think deep down somewhere inside of that brain of his, he knew I was right.
“Fine,” was all he said. “We deploy at sunrise. I suggest you all get some sleep.”
With that, he turned and stormed out of the tent, muttering under his breath the whole way. I just shook my head. Once he left though, the mood got noticeably less tense and charged. I looked around at the other chiefs and nodded.
“Get some rest guys,” I said. “Tomorrow's going to be a long day.”
The men all nodded and headed out themselves. Hopefully, they'd all get a good night's rest. I needed them sharp and on their game in the morning. Speaking of which, I knew I should probably try to get a little sleep myself.
Stepping out of the tent, the smell of the fire was strong. The aroma of burning wood and brush was thick and cloying. Pieces of ash, some cold, some hot, drifted down from the sky like snow. The world around us was unnaturally dark – the smoke blotted out any of the natural ambient light.
Luke came out of nowhere and fell into step beside me as I headed for my tent. There was a dark, grim look on his face, and he carried tension in his shoulders. I saw it in the way he moved – he was stiffer than usual.
“What's up?” I asked.
“I was just doing some reading,” he says. “Nothing major, just some blogs from some of the locals.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “Seems like a few of them may have spotted the guy who's running around setting the fires.”
“Can't believe everything you read online, Luke,” I said. “You know that.”
