“We’re telling people to go elsewhere?” Will was pissed.
Jake laid out his notes in front of him and pulled the microphone, so he could sit near it without sitting too close. Alex was counting down from five on his fingers and Will complained till the last second.
“We should be talking about whatever our listeners want, if that’s the fire.”
Will shut up as the network sounder started and Alex read his update filled with the scores of the baseball play-off scores and previewing the Monday night football game. Jake felt the bad news creeping into his mind. He pushed it back, now was not the time. The theme song kicked in, an edited version of Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” Will and Bill’s voice cut over a different highlight clip each day. Alex pointed at Will.
“Good morning, this is Willy Goldburg checking in from San Diego’s sports leader AM 690. We’re a skeleton crew at the moment. This Willy is without his Billy. . .” It wasn’t funny but Jake knew his job, cracked open his microphone and laughed. “. . . As long as we have our Willy, right?”
Alex shook his head in the booth at the bad joke. It was so Goldberg. “Filling the shock man Billy Shocker’s chair is former Aztec great and NFL journeyman, Jake Rivers, who you may know as the anchor of NBC’s weekend sports desk.”
“Thanks for having me, Will. Happy to be your Billy today.”
Will was looking at his phone, scrolling as he talked but looked up as he spoke.
“Almost didn’t make it here today?”
Jake felt a moment of panic, as if Will knew what happened to him that morning. Maybe he saw the confusion on Jake’s face. Will sometimes liked to let silence go, as if giving rope to his guests who might be saying the wrong thing or making a mistake.
“I mean the roads are crazy out there. This is something all of you out there listening don’t need me to tell you. I know most of you are sitting in your cars and Alex wants you to flip to KOGO if you want traffic or fire updates. My heart goes out to those of you in the path of the fire out east. We, however, have important stuff to talk about. No, my dear listeners, it is early in the season but we have games with playoff implications already. We have a doozy of an NFL game you can hear right here on 690. . .”
Jake tried to put it aside. Just focus on the show.
***
The transition between desert and forest was a blur of brownish green brush. It spun under them as the helicopter entered the fire zone. Scott leaned as far as his straps would allow. He knew they were in it when the brown air consumed everything around him. It was easy to get nervous, but Britney their pilot flew blind more than he ever wanted to know. Scott leaned back.
The Cobra didn’t carry chemicals or buckets for the water dumps, so they had to go to the far edge of the fire towards the base camp that was set up in a mall parking lot near El Cajon. No point in looking, everyone got quiet, several closed their eyes. Those who prayed did, those who didn’t pray always thought about it in moments like these. They were all thinking the same thing, fire that kind of size makes a person spiritual. The fire is bigger than they expected. The air didn’t clear but the soup they were flying through got lighter as they arrived at spike camp.
Hot Shots didn’t have red fire engines or water cannons. They used nature itself to fight fires and already they could see nature was not playing games.
They were in a shopping mall parking lot. A spot was cleared for them at the corner. A Navy crewman directed them with two burning flares to their spot. Scott tried to catalog it all as they lowered towards the ground. Two command trailers with FEMA logos and two Cobra’s with Navy markings. Soldiers were marching towards a troop carrier truck. One truck was loaded down and following a city fire engine that was leaving the parking lot.
The chopper hit the ground and everyone undid their straps. The helicopter kept going. Outside, the crew ran to load the chemical payload. It would be a cocktail of water and various thickening agents, including borates and ammonia phosphates. You could smell the spilled chemicals from the previous helicopters. The smell was overwhelming. The chopper would spit out hundreds of gallons, coming out in a thick red dust. Scott had been on a dump once, it weighed down the Cobra and it smelled like the inside of a bleach bottle. Riccardi kept telling their pilot, Britney, she was weeks away from cancer just hauling the cocktail. She was a vet having flown birds in the Middle East and was fearless.
Annie turned around, pointed at her gas mask. “We are dealing with structures here, so I want everyone wearing masks.”
Scott was first to roll his eyes. Most of the team laughed. They were not trained for, nor did they ever use, SCBA to breath.
“Listen, I am not asking you to carry tanks, just remember we are going into structures.”
Everyone put on their masks. Scott and Riccardi both fumbled to get their masks ready.
“Welcome to the shit show,” Riccardi yelled.
Annie opened the door and it was like she opened an oven. The burning embers blew around inside the helicopter. Scott took a last easy breath and stepped into hell.
***
Victoria had to turn on the wipers to brush away ash as she turned the minivan off El Cajon BLVD. She felt uncomfortable leaving Damian at school with the fire. The school was full of kids and the playground was still crowded. It had to be her. The other parents were not worried. She watched the kids running in all directions and tried to relax. She waited in the drop off zone long enough to watch Damian’s Spiderman backpack disappear inside. This was the moment each day when she regretted leaving work. Time to go home alone. It was hard to let go of Damian because she dropped him off last. It was irrational, she knew, but after losing her parents even the act of dropping off the kids or watching Jake get in his car to leave was hard for her.
Don’t assume the worst, she could tell herself a thousand times but she always, always did.
The radio came on, still tuned to news. “The containment level is unknown at this time, but I can report that multiple agencies are mobilizing. The threat is being taken seriously. Ashley Gibb, reporting from East County.”
Her phone, mounted in a holder on the dash, beeped and a text came up from Jake that read: ‘Filling in on 690 right now.’
Victoria smiled. She didn’t enjoy sports radio but a chance to hear Jake’s voice sounded comforting. She reached for the preset button.
“Cliff Johnson, reporting from KOGO. We are getting reports of a series of violent attacks in the City Heights neighborhood. . .”
Victoria hesitated over the button, thought about listening to that story, but City Heights wasn’t a violent neighborhood. Lower income, but outbreak of violence was not normal. She decided to look it up when she got home and pushed the button wanting to hear Jake.
She stopped at a stoplight and waited to turn, Willy Goldberg was going on a rant. Victoria felt a moment of anger. She assumed Jake was filling in for him, not with him. The light changed and she turned. They were not talking about the fire but the NFL that she could not give a shit about. Willy Goldberg was a dinosaur to her, fired for making sexist comments she had asked Jake not to work with him. He was a livewire. Jake insisted that Goldberg was a great father, and had done great work in the community and to not judge the off-air man by the act on the radio. She was curious to hear if her husband of seventeen years joined in or laughed with any offensive comments.
Victoria turned the van on to their street, and saw something in her way. Victoria hit the brakes, at first thinking it was a pile of blankets. She nervously looked over the dashboard. It had a pair of feet. A shopping cart was turned over on the curb, a collection of cans and clothes were scattered on the ground. Victoria took a deep breath, relieved that she didn’t hit the person lying in the road. She looked around and saw no one was watching. She pulled on the steering wheel and went around. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw the pile move. Whoever it was, they were alive.
It was another strike against the neighborhood. S
he had thought many times they needed to move out of North Park. Their direct neighbors were all the same families that moved to the uptown neighborhood when they did with the same thought. The kids might not be able to walk to school, but the neighborhood was getting nicer and downtown was just down the hill. The TV station was not far and when the kids were young they were both still reporting.
North Park had become home to some of the most active and growing night life in the city. She could sit on her porch and watch the exodus to the bars as it walked past, as the cars circled looking for open parking spaces. She watched some nights the cars circle half a dozen times.
The neighborhood was mostly quiet at this time of day, kids at school, most of the parents at work. Victoria should enjoy the time. She sat and read the newspaper with a coffee on the porch and would dream about making a comeback. She would think about how she would report stories and try not to be too frustrated.
She was two blocks away from the house when she noticed the ambulance and police sirens flashing. She had a moment of panic, but they were not at another house down the street. She pulled in her driveway leaving enough room for Jake to park when he came home. In the rearview mirror, she could see some of her neighbors gathering. She left the radio on. Jake was talking—something about the 49ers and drafting for the future. She listened to his voice but not what he was saying.
Something was very wrong. She could feel it and hearing Jake’s voice gave her a feeling like she wanted the family together. She turned off the van and took a deep breath.
Victoria stepped out of the van, her intention was to go straight back into the house. When she was a reporter she hated nosy crowds. Her eyes were drawn to the scene across the street. In the end, she wanted to know just like everyone else. The gathered crowd waited at the edge of the lawn. Several were on phones and more than one was taking pictures. A police officer pushed people back to the street. Abbey, her neighbor from the corner, was in her sixties and retired. She watched the neighborhood and knowing everyone’s gossip became her hobby. She walked straight to Victoria. She thought that her background as a reporter meant she knew everything.
“Hey, Vic!”
Victoria waved as they both arrived behind the crowd. This house was owned by a lawyer who was a partner in a firm downtown. Jake had a beer with him once. He was on his second wife, her kids lived with them. She didn’t even know his name.
“Shame what happened to Mister Pierce.”
A neighbor she didn’t know by name turned around, still in sweatpants and an SDSU sweatshirt. “Suicide.”
Victoria cringed at the thought. Her first thought was how to explain this to the kids.
“Nobody confirmed that, sir,” said the police officer. “Go home. Show some respect!” The EMTs were coming out of the house with the body. Victoria was the only one in the crowd staring at the cop. Their eyes locked for a second and he looked away. It was possible that he recognized her but she didn’t think so. He looked tired, scared. Suicide calls happened all the time, it didn’t make sense. The ash was also building up on his head and shoulders. A part of her laughed because it looked like dandruff.
The crowd broke up, but Abbey followed Victoria who cringed. She shook her head and watched the ash fall. The crowd had forgotten about the fire, focused on the event happening in front of them. Abbey shook the ash out but was staring at the Johnston’s house.
“Shame about the Johnstons.”
Victoria stopped and looked at the Johnston house. It was the two story house on their right side. They had spent years greeting each other from their driveways. Close enough that when Stephanie and Bryan fought it was hard not to hear. They lived so close that most of her fights with Jake started with her shushing him and saying, “The Johnstons.” It was enough to remind him to keep his voice down.
She felt guilty that something had happened to them and she didn’t know. Abbey picked up on her discomfort.
“You don’t know about Joe?”
The question made her feel worse. Victoria shook her head.
“Poor little boy has leukemia, they just found out.”
Victoria covered her mouth. The shock was real. She felt her gut knot a bit. Joe was younger than Damian, couldn’t be much older than five. She remembered the day they brought him home like it was yesterday.
“That’s awful.”
Her attention got pulled back to the police officer still standing at the Pierce lawn. His radio crackled.
“10-34 in progress. All units needed to 6th and Market. All units. 10-34 in progress.”
The voice on the radio spoke in a panic. The officer ran to his squad car. Victoria pushed Abbey out of the road and plugged her ears. The siren came on with a roar.
“What’s a 10-34?” Abbey asked when the siren was down the street. In the distance, sirens were sounding all over the city. Victoria spun around and heard the sirens in every direction. She pulled out her phone and opened Google. She typed in 10-34 police signal and got what she expected.
“What is it?”
The sirens grew quieter as many already sped closer to downtown. Victoria stepped up to her front door and picked up the Union-Tribune waiting on her step. “Riot in progress.”
Abbey wanted to say something but she coughed. Victoria, a one-time social smoker in college, felt the pressure the air was giving her lungs. She looked up to the sky and watched the ash.
“Better get inside, Abbey.”
Victoria unlocked her door, stepped in and unrolled the newspaper. She ignored the library headline and her eyes went straight to the sidebar. ‘UCSD researching local Cancer Cluster.’ She turned her eyes to her neighbors and her heart broke. The headline was literally hitting as close to home as possible. Both her parents wilted from disease, she hated that she had experience to offer Stephanie. This was a child, it was different. Were they sending Joe to school? What were they doing? Victoria wanted to do something for them. She looked at a pair of Damian’s shoes. She thought about his tiny feet and pictured for a split second what it would be like to get that news. She dropped the paper and slid to the floor, her back against the door and cried.
***
Jackets were left behind at the conference table chairs and the working group was crowded at the screen projecting the live map update every ten minutes from the spike camp. The fire chief wanted to be back at the scene and made it clear several times. Every ten minutes when the map updated the fire in the south bay would inch north. The fire east of the city was inching west and south. The pockets of fire inside the city limits were starting to pop.
“Forest service is letting the park burn, it’s triage.” Hawkins, the fire chief, used a laser pointer to circle Cleveland National Forest.
“Why?” Martin put his hands on hips. Trying not to look to frustrated. “It is helping fuel the fire, and the Santa Ana is pushing all that pollution right over our heads.”
“Structures, homes and buildings are first priority. We don’t have enough units, the hotshots from the forest service just got here. We are up to eight birds doing drops.”
The screen blinked and changed to the next update. They all cringed. The red pulsing areas of the map weren’t inching, it spread across the screen like spilled coffee.
Martin could already see it. He was not an expert. They were all avoiding saying it. San Diego was a coastal town. It was a matter of time before the different fires connected and the city would be boxed in.
The door opened. Mayor Kurt Hillard, who cut his teeth for ten years on the city council, came into the room. His glasses were off. He spun them in his hand out of nervous habit when he was worried. Normally everyone stood when the Mayor entered the room, but they were all by the map. Stephen came in behind and gave Martin a thumbs up. He had been fully briefed, and Martin guessed his delay was talking on the phone to the other mayors of smaller cities closer to the fire.
Chuck made a bad joke earlier about someone having to explain to this fire about jurisdiction
.
“The dream team!” The mayor said, going right to Hawkins and shaking his hand and smacking his shoulder. Martin understood what he was doing, showing confidence in his team but they didn’t have time for this. They could all hear a chorus of sirens as the volume got louder and closer outside. Sandra Gibbons pulled out her phone. As the meeting went on, Martin noticed her attention on a series of texts. He didn’t stop her or try to get her attention, assuming she was looking into the sirens outside.
“Mr. Mayor, this is the latest map.” Hawkins spun his laser pointer on the map.
Hawkins explained the direction of the fire, and the deployments. Martin didn’t listen, just watched the mayor spin his glasses. It went on for a few minutes, gradually the mayor’s eyes connected with Martin.
“Martin, can we step outside for just a moment.”
The meeting froze. Everyone was looking at them.
“Sure thing sir.” Inside, Martin felt pure panic.
They stepped outside the conference room and the mayor gently closed the door. Chief Gibbons caught the door and ran out. Martin was about to call to her to ask what was happening? The Mayor spoke his name softly.
“Martin?”
He just said his name but the young chief of staff felt scolded. “I know, sir. I should have updated you sooner and gotten the ball rolling it is just this fire is moving much faster than. . .”
“Martin, I’m not mad at you.”
He should be. Martin was beating himself up. He felt emotional for a moment and tried to get it under control. Chuck said the mayor was kind to a fault with his staff.
“I know you want to close down the schools, but if this is anything like the Cedar fire we will be closed for days. We have to think of impact.”
The security door to the outside world buzzed. As chief of staff, Martin knew no one else was scheduled. Both men were surprised when a solider walked through the door, his rifle slung over his back. Behind him a man in uniform and two men in suits. A solider brought up the rear. Jessica, the woman who had worked the front desk for six mayors, followed them in.
Ring of Fire Page 4
