by MJ Fredrick
“Peyton? You doing all right?” he asked from the nice roomy cave, his voice uncommonly gentle, which only freaked her out more.
She sucked in a breath through her nose. “Peachy.”
“I couldn’t hear you anymore. I thought something was wrong.”
“I’m fine. I see her.”
“Can you reach her from where you are?”
Peyton judged the distance to the child’s legs. “If she’ll reach out to me.”
“Okay. Don’t go any farther. Stay where you are and make her come to you, all right? I’ll stay here.”
Like it or not, his hand on her leg was reassuring, a connection to the real world. Okay. She could do this.
She tilted her head a bit so her headlight illuminated the girl’s face. The child whimpered and threw her hand up in front of her eyes, so Peyton quickly lowered her head.
“Hey, whatcha doin’, all stuffed back in there?”
The girl didn’t answer.
Great. The kid was going to keep her in this coffin forever. She struggled for a breath and tried again. “What’s your name? I’m Peyton.”
A soft sound that might have been “Mary”.
“Mary? Or Terry? Or Cherry? Or Harry?”
Another sound, a giggle, then more clearly “Carrie”.
“Hi, Carrie.” She edged forward on her elbows, buying time while figuring out what to say.
The girl’s chin came into view.
“Are you scared?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Of the fire?”
“Uh-huh.”
Join the club. “Well, it’s not going to get us in here, you know. And Cooper? He’s going to take you to your mom and dad, okay? So come with me.”
The girl’s face was buried in her arms. “He’s mean. He yelled at me.”
Peyton snuffled a laugh. “I just think he doesn’t know how to act around girls.”
“Hey!” Cooper squeezed her ankle, almost playful. Again out of character. Why was he being nice when she was in this coffin, when he couldn’t be nice to her face? “I heard that.”
Peyton had almost forgotten where she was and had to smile.
She reached a hand out. “Let’s get out of here so Cooper can take you home. I promise he’ll be nice to you. He’ll even buy you an ice cream.” She said the last over her shoulder and it earned her another ankle tug.
“Promise?” Carrie crawled slowly toward Peyton.
“Cooper? You promise?” Peyton relayed.
“I promise,” he said gruffly, and Carrie linked her fingers through Peyton’s.
With Gabe guiding her, Peyton eased out of the tunnel, leading Carrie, using the child’s face to focus her as she took even breaths through her nose.
Then Gabe’s hands were on her hips and he pulled her out. She leaned back against him for a moment, gulping in oxygen and absorbing his strength, still holding Carrie’s hand. The girl eyed Gabe, but Peyton gave her an encouraging smile and she dropped to her feet.
“You did great,” Gabe murmured into Peyton’s ear before releasing her, his fingers flexing on her hips in a show of approval.
She nodded, then tugged free of his touch that felt too good, stirred her blood, made her want to stay in his arms. She took Carrie’s hand and walked back to the others, then sat before her knees gave way.
Gabe dropped to the floor beside Peyton with a grunt. “I didn’t really believe you when you said you were good with kids.”
Together they watched Carrie enfolded by her friends, by Josie. He was still trying to work out what the kid had been thinking by crawling into the tunnel. Even at such a young age, the female mind was unfathomable.
“I know you didn’t.” Her voice was higher than normal, tighter, and he didn’t think it was completely from her scare in the tunnel.
He blew out a breath. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment here.”
She folded her legs up and rested her arms on them, turned her head toward him. “I lied.”
Gabe felt a smile tugging at his mouth. As apologies went, it wasn’t much, but at least she didn’t play with words the way most reporters did.
“I figured.”
She lifted her head. They were close enough that he could feel the surprise running through her. “Then why did you let me come?”
A question he’d been asking himself regularly. He pushed to his feet. Yeah, he was avoiding the question, so what?
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
Gabe edged back through the passageway they’d entered, bending lower as the ceiling angled down. He had hoped to find an easier way out of the cave, but all the passages were too narrow for him to squeeze through. After a demonstration of Peyton’s claustrophobia, well, that had to be a consideration. The way they’d come in was the quickest exit, the shortest tunnel. Still, sliding kids down a nearly vertical hole was one thing. Pushing them out was another.
He got himself out by digging his elbows and knees into the sides of the tunnel. Cautiously, he placed his gloved hand on the outside of the entry and tested the ground for heat. It was hot, but bearable. He pulled himself out the rest of the way, squinting against the brightness of the overcast sky after the darkness of the cave, and looked around.
He’d seen the moonscapes before, the desolation a fast-burning fire left behind. So why did the grayness of the scene before him have him bending double, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath?
Because the people he’d been responsible for this time hadn’t been Hot Shots, trained to understand fire behavior and how to stay safe in a blowup. This time two inexperienced women and five children had been his responsibility. He could have lost them all.
No. He didn’t think like that, didn’t allow himself to. He whipped out Peyton’s phone. Thank God she had one of those good services with reception even out here. He made the call.
Gabe lay on his stomach and shouted down the hole. “Michaels!”
No answer. He swore, then remembered how sound carried in the cave and how young some of the ears were down there. He coughed some of the smoke out of his lungs and shouted again.
Her face popped into his field of vision, pale against the darkness of the cave. “What?”
“Bring the campers over. Time to go. Helicopter’s on the way and we gotta go fast. We still have some hot spots out here that could flare up.”
He couldn’t see her hands, but he’d bet they were on her hips as she considered the exit. “How are we going to get them out this way? It’s almost straight up.”
“What did I tell you about questioning orders?” he asked, exasperated with her endless desire to understand the whys and hows. “You pass ’em up, I’ll pull ’em out.”
She looked doubtful, like she was about to ask another question, then turned and walked away.
She reappeared a few moments later, bowed under the weight of the counselor. The passage was too narrow for one woman, so both crouched low, Peyton’s arm under Josie’s shoulders to support her, their faces nearly pressed together, Peyton’s grim, the counselor’s pale with pain.
Then Peyton disappeared and Josie started rising toward him. The lack of light in the cave gave her ascension a surreal aspect and Gabe took a moment longer than usual to react. Josie started clawing at the rocky walls before Gabe reached down and pulled her out.
Only then did he see she’d been straddling Peyton’s shoulders. He snorted in appreciation and got soot up his nose. He was still laughing and choking when he reached down to lift out the first child.
The helicopter’s rotors beat above the fire-created clouds, but after relief, Gabe’s first thought was of the soot it would stir up, blinding his campers.
There was still the danger of a blowup; embers glowed at the bases of trees and snags, but he couldn’t urge Peyton along without transmitting his fear to the children and the counselor.
Arms trembling from fatigue, he pulled up the last child, then climbed to
his feet with effort. He ushered them all together in a huddle to shield them from blowing soot as they moved to intercept the landing chopper. The dust swirled up beneath the rotors and Gabe sheltered the kids with his body, hustling them into the bird before turning to run back to the cave.
Peyton’s panicked shrieks pierced through the noise of the rotors. She was alone in the cave and terrified.
He hadn’t forgotten her, but his first responsibility had to be evacuating the campers. Still, in her fear she wouldn’t see it that way.
He dropped to his belly at the opening. She stared up at him, her face pale and drawn. He shouldn’t have left her alone without explanation. He had just been thinking about getting the others on the helicopter.
“Peyton!”
Her eyes snapped into focus. “You didn’t leave me,” she said, her voice breathy like it had been when he pulled her out of the tunnel.
“No, I didn’t leave you.” He prayed for the strength to pull her up as he stretched a hand to her. She handed him their packs first, smart girl, standing on her toes to push them up the tunnel. He tossed them aside, ignoring the shouts of the helitack crew.
He reached down and she gripped his forearms. The strain tightened his back, his buttocks, his shoulders, his throat, even the back of his head as he lifted. He opened his eyes to see her feet dangling. He was bearing all her weight on his shoulders. His ribs felt like they’d crack against the rocks.
Her swinging legs found purchase in the tunnel and he felt the relief instantly in his chest. She scrambled up, releasing one of his arms to grab the rim, helping him help her out.
“Good girl, good girl,” he murmured, and dragged her free.
She lay on her belly, her face against the hot ground as she fought for breath; he rolled onto his back, one hand on his chest as he gulped air into his aching lungs.
“You’re out,” he managed at last.
“Thanks.” Her voice was muffled against the ground.
Then he heard the sound. He snapped his head up and looked around.
The helicopter rotors had masked the noise of the fire, and now a wall of flames rose between Gabe and Peyton and the helicopter.
The dragon was back on the mountain.
He leapt to his feet, dragging her with him, forgetting his earlier pain. No time to gauge her reaction, to worry about her fear as he scanned for a way around the flames to the chopper.
What the hell was the fire feeding on? Nothing but soot and blackened grass had been between them and the helicopter. The soot must’ve been covering something flammable because flames shot up between the rocks where he and Peyton stood and the hillock where the chopper waited.
He dragged Peyton back from the fire, farther onto the mountain, aware of the fresh fuel available in the cracks between the rocks. Tension radiated up her arm, resistance as she tried to head for the chopper.
“We’re going the wrong way!”
“We’re not going to make the helicopter.” Why did she make him say it? Damn, putting it into words meant he had to think of another escape route.
“What? No. We can go down and circle back.” She pointed.
“Uh-uh, we can’t.” He fought to keep his own desperation from his voice, but he had to be realistic. “Waiting for us will just put them in danger.”
He raised his arms in a signal to the helicopter. The helitack pilot nodded an acknowledgment and lifted off.
Peyton wailed her despair. “Wait! Don’t do that.” She started for the chopper but he jerked her back. She whirled on him, eyes unfocused in her anger and fear. “What about us?”
Gabe couldn’t take time to answer. He released her and hopped down the rocks to retrieve their packs before the fire did, not allowing himself to watch as the chopper took off. Did she think he wasn’t exhausted? But their primary purpose had been rescuing the campers and they’d accomplished it. That was something to be proud of.
Now they had to get back to the fire camp on their own.
Chapter Five
“We hike.” Gabe handed Peyton her pack.
She turned her head sharply, but not before he glimpsed tears in her eyes. Her attempt to hide them reassured him. As long as she was strong enough to hide her fear, she would keep up. Her pride outweighed her terror. She was going to have to be tough these next few hours.
“We have to get off these rocks. They’re heating up fast.” He hoisted his own pack on his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
He’d already found their escape route on his first assessment, years of training kicking in. “Up the hill.”
She followed his gaze up the steep, rocky mountainside. “I thought fire moved fastest uphill,” she said, only the slightest quaver in her voice.
He blew a breath out through his nose. “Again with the questions. If we stay on this rocky face, we’ll eventually reach a spot where we can work around the fire and go back down to camp.”
“Why didn’t we do that with the campers?” Her words huffed out. But she pulled on her pack, buckled it over her breasts. “We could have been back by now.”
He considered a moment before deciding to tell her the truth. “It’s rough going. They wouldn’t have made it.”
“Oh God.”
The forest was at their back, on their left. The fire had burned through fast, not taking all the fuel, their biggest risk. To their right was a burned-out meadow, but Gabe couldn’t be confident that all fuels had been consumed, so they stayed on the rocks. Farther up, the forest veered west, the meadow east, leaving them a greater expanse of rock, a safer barrier. But a steeper climb.
The footing over the big, smooth rocks was tricky. He remembered her blistered feet, but they couldn’t stop. The fire moved like a living thing, snaking around rocks to nibble greedily at fresh fuel. The heat pounded at their backs, under their feet. When the mountain got steep enough for them to climb on all fours, the heat radiated from the rocks beneath their hands. At least the smoke was below them, and they didn’t have to fight it as well as altitude and exhaustion.
Peyton kept pace with him, so either he was slowing down or she was scared spitless. Determination tightened her face and he hid a grin. Who said pride was a sin? It was damned sure going to save her life.
“Break,” he croaked once the rocks started to feel cool to the touch. He swung his butt around to plop it on an outcropping. “Got water?”
She mimicked his movement, swayed a little when she stared back the way they’d come. The treetops were deceptively green, and every now and then a flicker of fire moved beneath them. On the far side of the trees was a stretch of black, probably the route his crew had taken back to camp. He’d asked when he called for the helitack—they’d arrived at camp safely.
He pulled his water out and tossed the pack behind him. “Looks harder than it was, right?”
She slid him an incredulous glare. Good, she hadn’t lost her sense of humor in her scramble up the mountain. She’d need it tonight. He grinned and offered her his bottle. She shook her head and reached for her own. He had to fight his growing admiration. Most rookies would be crying, complaining, but she did neither. That it gave him a sense of pride disturbed him. So he turned his thoughts away.
“At least you’re not climbing up through a tunnel.”
She grunted and raised her water to her lips.
It went against everything ingrained in him, but he had to know. “What was with that? You get lost in a cave as a kid?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Never been in a cave till today. I hope I’m never in one again.”
“So what happened?”
She glanced at him, then turned her attention downhill. So she’d decided to ignore him. It wouldn’t surprise him. She had stubborn down to an art form. “You know what a hope chest is?” she said at last.
“Hope chest?”
“A cedar chest, maybe four feet long, two and a half feet deep?” She pulled off her gloves, inspected her blistered han
ds, but she’d probably rather look at anything but him right now. “In my family, all the girls got one at a very young age, to store quilts and stuff for their house once they got married. Very old fashioned, but there you have it.”
“Okay, sure.” The image of young Peyton planning her wedding amused him.
“I got locked in mine when I was eight.” She shrugged a shoulder as if the words didn’t mean anything.
“What, were you playing hide and seek?”
She took off her hard hat and passed a dirty hand over dirty hair. He sensed her nervousness and wondered if it occurred to her not to answer the question. “No. I wanted to see what it was like to be dead.”
Like a coffin. Jesus. Her nonchalant tone hid the very real terror the young Peyton must have experienced, and the bravery in her voice reached inside and grabbed him.
“It had a latch on the outside and there was no way I could get it open. I was locked in for an hour before my mother found me.”
Her voice was hollow, like her cries for help must have been inside the cedar coffin, and nausea rolled in his stomach as he imagined her fear. Jesus. What would an experience like that do to a person? The scars didn’t stop at claustrophobia.
But there was something more. She hadn’t thought of climbing into the chest on her own.
“Why did you want to know what it was like to be dead?” He kept his voice controlled, not letting her see the effect her story had on him.
She put her helmet back on. “My sister died. She was hit by a car doing some idiotic trick on her bike. One minute she was there and the next she wasn’t. The rocks are starting to get warm.” Her tone changed from melancholy to matter of fact as she pushed to her feet to avoid any more questions. “We better keep moving.”
Why had she told him all that? Peyton got herself a good foothold and pulled herself up the rock, ahead of him, like he insisted. Her family didn’t discuss her sister’s death. She hadn’t told Dan that story till they’d been married.
Of course, Dan hadn’t seen evidence of her claustrophobia the way Gabe had. She owed Gabe an explanation for freaking out on him back there. Telling him the story was better than him thinking she was a wimp.
