by MJ Fredrick
He stopped to give her a warning look. “What’d I tell you about the ego stroking?”
“Come on, Cooper, I can hold my own up there. Let me come with you. I did fine on the fire yesterday.”
Damn, he used to be better at intimidation. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough. “Yeah, I remember how good you were at complaining.”
“It was my first fire,” she said in her defense.
“And this isn’t going to be your second.” He started toward his crew’s tents again, hoping she would take the hint. Of course it would be too much to ask for. Damn, what had made this woman so determined? “It’s not a walk in the park, Peyton. We are facing a big fire here. I don’t want to have to worry about those kids and you.”
“I see your point.” He could see her puzzling it out and the working of her mind fascinated him. “So, you have a lot of experience with kids?”
He ducked his head to hide his smile. “As a matter of fact, I have none.”
“And your crew? Are they family people?”
“Not as far as I know.”
A frown flickered across her face. “Really?”
He shrugged.
“I happen to be great with kids.”
“Is that a fact.” It wasn’t a question.
“It is. I have”—she paused and looked into the air to think of a number, then pretended to count on her fingers—“six nieces and two nephews. I’m their favorite aunt.”
“You realize I don’t believe you.”
“You realize that doesn’t surprise me.”
God, she was quick. He admired that, couldn’t resist stepping closer to her to see her reaction. She didn’t move back, but wariness flickered in her dark eyes. “So you really know kids?”
“Enough to know those girls are going to be terrified and having a bunch of big bad firemen come in, all decked out in your gear, will not improve the situation. I think I’ll be able to keep them calm, at least relate to them a little bit.”
He moved back, considering, and she let out a breath she’d been holding. Did he smell that bad, or did he affect her that much? He was pretty sure he had the answer, and he didn’t want to dwell on the repercussions of it. “Go get your gear and meet me back here.”
Suspicion replaced wariness. “You aren’t going to head out without me.”
Now that hurt. “I can be a mean bastard, rookie, but I’m not a sneaky one. You got five minutes.”
Chapter Three
Gabe held thirty-seven lives in his hands. The thought remained uppermost in his mind as his crew moved up the mountain, farther north than they’d been yesterday. The slope wasn’t as bad, the trees up to this altitude were saplings, but ahead of them was old growth, and the scout camp. The fire was below them, and now his crew and the campers faced the risk of being caught in the bottom of a horseshoe, with fire all around them. Fire moved fastest uphill.
He stopped just below the old-growth tree line. Smoke hung low, obscuring the sky, the tops of the eighty-foot-tall trees, and no birds, no insects around. No noise. Nature had perfected the concept of bugging out.
If the kids were still there in all that smoke, they’d be hysterical. Michaels claimed she could calm them. He was more worried he’d have to keep her calm. She stood apart from the others, hands on her hips, looking toward the forest, ponytail whipping against her neck beneath her hard hat. The fire yesterday had been a backyard barbecue compared to what they were walking into.
His crew gathered around, eager to get to work.
“We need to split up,” he announced to his unit, the place and plan clear in his mind, sight unseen. He pointed to his four most experienced crew members. “I’m taking Kim, Chris, Tony and Mike into camp with me. Howard and Laura, you start clearing trees from the camp, moving in this direction, parallel to the fire. It’ll get us out safely, and hopefully slow the fire down. Everyone else, you know what to do.”
“What about me?” Peyton asked, the only one to question her place. Big surprise.
Experience told him to put her on the line as far from the fire as she could get. Instinct told him to take her with him. He’d spent a lot of years honing those instincts. He crooked a finger at her to join his group.
“Maria, flag us in.” The young woman tied pieces of tape around several branches in a line. This was their escape route out of the camp if the smoke got too bad. Gabe turned to his crew.
“The minute you see the fire you retreat. In this smoke, once you see the fire it will be right on top of you. I don’t want any heroes here today.”
As they moved in, his crew strung out to cut line, his newer crew farthest from the fire, his most experienced closer, where they would have to work fast. He didn’t stop to consider they might fail.
This fire was different. Peyton could feel it already, the urgency of the Hot Shots, the intensity and speed of the flames. Yesterday’s blaze had lain low on the ground. This one was— aggressive.
The Hot Shots stumbled into the clearing of the camp, only visible to each other through the smoke by their yellow shirts and headlamps. Pulses of heat washed over them. They heard the fire crackling and popping on the mountain below them. If she stopped to think about what they faced, she’d run back to camp. So hot, and the waves of heat brought scents, blistering and terrifying, singeing her nostrils.
A phwump, like fireworks going off, shook her out of it.
“What’s that?” she shouted to Cooper.
“Trees exploding,” he said grimly without a glance in her direction.
She scanned the camp, the forlorn-looking picnic tables, the snug little cabins ringing it. Not a camper in sight. Had they gotten out? Where could they have gone? Across the clearing, a yellow bus sat in the smoke, so they hadn’t driven out. She pointed it out to Gabe, who nodded. Of course he saw it too.
With a gesture from Gabe, his crew dispersed to look in the cabins. He reached for Peyton to keep her with him but she shook him off and approached the sixth building.
The door was wedged shut, and she peered through a dusty window to see what could be blocking it. The light from her helmet fell on the terrified children and their counselors huddled inside. The campers screamed and scrambled back when they saw her headlamp shine through the window. What were they thinking, locking themselves in here? That the fire would blow over?
Her throat raw, her heart doing its damnedest to run down the mountain without her, Peyton gestured them toward the door and called for the Hot Shots.
One of the counselors inside came to her senses and lunged for the door. Smoke poured into the cabin through the open door and Peyton stood in the doorway and waved them out. Two women and several children ran to the center of the clearing, where the Hot Shots encircled them.
Peyton turned to join them.
“Michaels! We’re missing an adult and a kid—are they in there with you?” Gabe called.
She opened her mouth to deny it, then turned. Sure enough, in the corner, a counselor crouched near a cot. Peyton hesitated, surveying the cabin through the smoke that filled it. She couldn’t make herself step any farther in.
“Are you all right?” she shouted.
The older woman’s terror lit her eyes in the dark room. “Carrie is under here—she won’t come out!”
From her spot near the door, Peyton crouched to look. Her headlamp reflected the pale face of a small girl.
“Michaels!” Cooper barked from behind her. “What’s the hold up? We’ve got to move.”
She whirled on him. What was he thinking, scaring everyone with his impatience? “There’s a scared kid here and your shouting doesn’t help!”
Gabe swore and strode into the cabin. He grabbed the end of the bed, lifted it to expose the little girl, who screamed and scrambled into the corner.
“Get her,” he ordered.
Peyton forced herself forward and picked up the child, who added kicking to her screaming. Peyton blinked against the flailing fists that knocked back her hel
met, gasped against a blow to her stomach from the small feet. The flurry of movement made it hard to see where she was going as she headed for the door. She tripped, and Cooper caught her arm and dragged her with him.
In the clearing, four girls in various pieces of fire gear hunkered together. Two were wrapped in Gabe’s fire shirt; she only now realized he wasn’t wearing it. Two others held his silver fire shelter about their shoulders, one of them balancing his large helmet on her small head, the other with his bandana about her nose and mouth. The sweaty fabric couldn’t smell good, but it would keep some of the smoke from her lungs.
Gabe stopped in front of the oldest one. “Why are you still here?”
The little girl’s lip stuck out. “You told us not to move!”
He rolled his eyes as Peyton came up beside him.
“Where is everyone else?” Peyton asked.
“I sent them out already. We need to get going. Now.”
Gabe couldn’t hear the saws anymore and didn’t know if the noise was drowned out by the encroaching fire or if his team had been forced to retreat. Embers rained down on them, and his skin prickled with dread. Before the intuition had time to fully form, the wind kicked up and the flames jumped into the canopy.
God help them, it was a crown fire, fast and loud. At least the smoke rose off the ground and he could see. He lifted the smallest child into his arms.
“We’re going out under the fire!” he yelled. “It’s in the crown, but it could drop down, all right? So we’ve got to go fast. Michaels, bring up the rear to push them along. Can you run with her?”
“God, I hope so.” Her eyes were huge in her soot-dusted face as her gaze followed the leaps of fire through the treetops.
“Don’t look at it. Just move forward as fast as you can.”
The child she carried still fought her, the strain of it showed on her face. He leaned down to the girl, watching her eyes widen in terror. He must appear monstrous to a small child, with his dirty face and glowering expression, and he used that to his advantage.
“Stop it. Now,” he said in his sternest voice.
The child froze, staring at him, and he nodded his approval.
“All right, here we go. Follow me!”
He tucked the head of the child he carried under his chin, grasped the hand of the hard-hatted girl and hoped he could trust Peyton to shepherd the others after him.
The fire hit the camp’s bus then, over near the road, and ignited the gas. The concussion from the explosion hurtled them forward. Gabe lost his balance and threw himself onto his back to protect the child in his arms. Rocks gouged between his ribs; the combination of hard ground and the child’s solid body knocked the breath from him.
He couldn’t slow down. They should have been out of here five minutes ago. There was no margin for error now. He scrambled up to check on his charges, his arm banded tightly around the little girl. Screams rang in his ears. He glanced at Peyton, his most likely suspect, and saw her trudging grimly along.
The counselor was on her hands and knees, screaming. The two girls wrapped in his shirt watched her, sobbing so hard they couldn’t catch their breath. Gabe wrapped a hand around the woman’s skinny arm and dragged her to her feet, hoping the force didn’t snap her bones. He spun her around to check for flames or blood, but saw nothing. She was just terrified. Hell. The quickest way out was a slap to the face. She blinked at the rough contact, but stopped screaming before she panicked the children worse than they were.
“You’re all right.” He glanced at Peyton. “You all right?”
She actually laughed and raised a hand in front of her, palm out. “Yeah, I’m good. I promise.”
“Let’s go!”
The fire cracked and sizzled over their heads as they ran through the trees. Falling debris could rain down on them. They had to keep moving. Gabe hated being in the lead—he checked over his shoulder every few seconds to ensure his group followed him. He lost time, but couldn’t trust Peyton to lead them out.
The child he dragged stumbled, jerking his arm and throwing him off balance. He kept her upright by sheer strength of will and propelled her forward.
The fire was at their back, the heat incredible, the smoke blinding. He could smell singed hair. The slightest delay would kill them.
A flaming branch hurtled through the air and crashed in their path. Gabe threw his body back to block the others from running into it.
Damn, this would ignite the floor fuels. He dodged to the right and kept running. He glanced back to ensure his charges were following, registering their terrified, tear-streaked faces.
They could be terrified as long as they kept up with him.
When the hard-hatted child stumbled again, he swung her into his arms. The weight of two children weighed him down, strained his muscles, exhausted him. He couldn’t go much farther like this. He shouted for the counselor to take the other girl who had been wrapped up in his fire shelter, slowed only until she took the child before he started running again.
They burst out of the trees but had no time to rejoice. The fire blazed at their heels and moved fast. If the branch ignited the floor fuels, they couldn’t outrun it. He veered east, back toward the fire camp. The plan had been to hike around the flank of the fire to the black area already destroyed by fire, presumably fuel free. The thing was, he wasn’t sure where the flank was, if the fire had moved faster around the camp than through it.
His crew had left no clue about which way they’d gone. He’d feel better if they were here where he could keep an eye on them. He just had to trust in his training of them to keep them safe.
Then he saw it, the fire racing uphill between them and the fire camp. He slowed for a moment, reasoned out the next step and turned down the hill. If the fire burned fast enough, it would leave a gap so they could escape through to the black.
“Cooper!” Peyton shouted, alarm in her voice.
He whirled and saw her framed by fire that had left the trees to pursue them. His heart slammed against his ribs and he fought the urge to go and drag her up the hill. He couldn’t lose time.
He swung back uphill and set the child in his arms down, pushing her ahead of him. “Run!” he shouted, and pointed the direction they’d been heading. “That way.”
He shoved the counselor after the kids and reached back for Peyton’s hand, then pushed her ahead of him, putting himself between them and the fire. The slope was treacherous, with granite and scrub brush jutting out, and they couldn’t gain much speed. Peyton set down the child she carried, but held her arm firmly. Ahead of him, one of the girls in the fire shirt stumbled and cut her shin on a stub of a juniper bush. The counselor knelt beside the crying child and tried to staunch the bleeding.
Gabe stopped, while every instinct screamed at him to keep moving. He wasn’t getting out of this one by running. He yanked his map out of his back pocket and spun Peyton around to spread it out on her back, dragging his finger over it as he scanned.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her urgency to escape made her whole body quiver.
“What’d I tell you about questioning people who know more than you?” he demanded. “We can’t outrun this thing.”
He felt her shudder, but didn’t hear a trace of fear in her voice. “So what are we going to do?”
“I remember seeing something on the map. There! Caves.”
“Caves?” she echoed.
He slapped the map back in some semblance of its former shape, already moving again, pulling her sleeve to urge her along. “Ed Pulaski kept his crew alive in a mining shaft during a blowup. It won’t be comfortable, but we won’t be running.” He scanned the alien landscape. “Now if I can just get a fix where they’re at—”
“I know where they are,” the counselor said, looking up at them.
“Can we get there from here?” Gabe asked.
She nodded once and took the lead. “Follow me.”
The black ground boiled, fire pushing up through the br
ush and leaves it had already devoured to feed anew. The smoke was low and heavy and caught in Peyton’s throat. She couldn’t stop coughing.
The terror lodged in her chest didn’t help her catch her breath. Every step strained her thighs, shot throbbing pain up from her blistered feet. Smoke choked her with every wheeze, and the sweat rolling over her skin felt on the verge of boiling. She could think of nothing but water, yet didn’t dare stop to reach for it. Stopping meant death. So she bit back whimpers of fear, tears of pain and trudged on, dragging one child and helping the counselor shepherd the others.
Gabe moved tirelessly, though he should have been exhausted. In addition to his pack, he carried the child with the injured leg. He wasn’t wearing his helmet or fire shirt, so the embers snowing down on them burned his skin. He didn’t so much as twitch. He was either too focused or too scared, and she doubted it was the latter. Men like Gabe Cooper didn’t feel fear.
“There!” the counselor cried, and Peyton saw the outcropping of rocks through the smoke.
Peyton stalled for a moment. These weren’t caves like she expected, open mouthed and welcoming, like on Yogi Bear cartoons. These were more like crawl spaces. Crawl spaces underground.
She caught Gabe’s arm. “The kids are going to be scared going down there.”
He leveled a look at her. “The kids? Or you?”
She kept her gaze on the narrow opening. “I won’t lie. It does not look like a good time.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Better than out here.”
“How do you know we can get back out again?” Her voice rose in panic. They could be stuck down there. Buried. God.
“We’ll get out.” He shrugged off his pack. “I’ll go in first and you pass the girls in to me.”
“And the packs?”
He nodded to the counselor. “Get her to help you. If you run out of time, leave them here.” Not a good plan, she decided as he disappeared head first into the cave.
The fire was so close, so loud, she almost didn’t hear him call for the kids. Peyton hefted the biggest girl by her shoulders and lowered her cautiously in. A tug on the child’s legs told her Gabe had the girl, and she reached for the next child.
