The team dug into the fifty feet of scratch line at the tail, on the far edge of their jump zone. Behind them, the fire snapped and popped, a spruce occasionally torching deep in the body of the fire, black smoke boiling up in an angry black finger. The air simmered with the stench of burning resin.
Conner’s drone lifted off over the fire, and Jed couldn’t help but watch over Conner’s shoulder the close-up, aerial view of the blaze. Mostly black smoke, but Conner’s iPad came alive with readings.
Jed lifted his binoculars to see if he could spot Kate on the ridge, but a quick scan revealed nothing.
He didn’t want to pray, but the urge welled inside him. Desperation more than faith in God to keep Kate safe.
But he’d sent her clear of the fire, to watch. He’d pay for it later but didn’t care.
“Air Attack, this is Ransom. Come in.”
“Ransom, this is Air Attack.” Neil “Beck” Beckett, piloting the OV-10 Bronco, a guide plane for the Lockheed Hercules 130, their biggest tanker.
“How far out is our load of mud?”
“Standby, Ransom.”
Longest ten seconds of his life as he waited. “The fire is in sight. I’ll run a practice run, then send the tanker in along the creek bed. We’ve got three loads—we’ll drop them all then send in for more if we need them.”
Jed watched as Beck dove in along the canyon, tracing a route for the big tanker.
A few minutes later the C-130 feathered in a load of orange along the eastern flank.
Steam rose to combine with the gray-black clouds.
Beck came back on the line. “It looks like the fire’s about a half mile from the river. You might need a couple full loads.”
No doubt.
“We’ll circle around and give you another drop.”
“Roger that.”
The plane disappeared in the smoke.
“Burns, Ransom.” Kate’s voice over the walkie.
“Ransom, Burns. Go ahead.”
“We’re on top of the ridge, about a half mile from the head. Flame lengths are about thirty feet, and the fire’s eating away toward the river. But the wind is shifting, Jed. I can feel the air tremble. My gut is that the head is about to blow up.”
“Get higher,” he said to Conner. “See if you can give me a decent picture.” He peered at the screen as the drone rose, but smoke obscured the view.
Conner pointed to the wind chart. “Like Gilly said, it’s making its own weather. The wind is shifting.”
Jed toggled the radio. “Can you head back, Kate?”
“I think that’s a negative. The fire is climbing up the ridge. But it’s slow—and if we can get a tanker in here, it’ll put down.”
No panic in her voice, but he stepped back, lifted his binoculars again, scanned the ridge. “Get out your mirror—I want to see where you are.”
“Roger that.”
To the east, the tanker sprayed another load along the smoking fire.
“Pete, I hope you’re down there, reinforcing that drop.”
“Roger that, Boss,” Pete said. “She’s whimpering, but we’re on it.”
Jed was still scanning the horizon with his glass. There—a wink of light, and he found her.
“Got you, Kate.” But before she could answer, smoke obscured his vision.
And then he felt it.
As if a hand rolled in, taking the form of a cloud, shifting the air around him. In a breath that scattered embers and flame into the black around him, it swept across the canyon from the east, picking up speed, curling in a wave up the ridge.
Driving the fire right toward Kate.
“Kate! Get out of there! The wind has shifted. The fire is headed right for you.”
Silence.
“Kate?”
“Roger that. We’re heading over the ridge and down to the river.”
Yes. Good thinking, Kate.
He searched for them again, then turned to Conner. “Find them.”
Chapter 10
No need to scare Hannah.
Or herself.
Because Kate could handle this. She’d been following her instincts for the past twenty minutes, across the ridge, an eye on the fire, calculating the distance to the river below, keeping her voice low and calm as embers shot over their heads from the flames chewing up the ridge some two hundred yards below.
They had plenty of time before the fire roared up the ridge.
However, the safety of the river seemed ominously far away. She’d felt it in her gut, the hunger of the fire as she’d climbed the backside of the ridge. With the dark, brooding thunderclouds overhead, she recognized fire weather in the making, the kind that created a storm, sent a blaze flooding through a forest at a mile a minute.
But she hadn’t wanted to panic Jed—and why, really, when she could be wrong.
Or, not.
At least she’d made the right decision to hike to the apex of the ridge, or they would have been caught scrambling uphill. Now, all they had to do was find a path down the opposite side, take refuge in the river below.
Kate broke into a jog. “We’ll be fine,” she said, glancing behind her to Hannah, who kept up, her face pinched, her skin dark with sweat and smoke. She’d said nothing since Kate’s last dispatch to Jed.
Kate toggled her radio. “Burns, Ransom. When that tanker gets here, we could use a drop on this side of the canyon, just for safe measure.”
Black smoke roiled up behind them, and her eyes burned, her nose thick under her bandanna, now pulled up.
“We’re not going to make it!” Hannah’s voice, for the first time edged with fear. Kate turned, her gaze fierce. “Yes, we are.”
But, below them, the fire had grown, pushed by the wind. Embers crackled over their heads, a ball of fire landed just a hundred feet away, exploding a juniper. Hannah’s eyes widened, but she managed not to scream. Cinders landed on her shoulders, and Kate brushed them off Hannah. “We’re going to be fine.”
She turned, her heart clogging her throat as she started into a jog. “Status on that tanker, Jed?”
Static. She called again, but he didn’t answer. Fire weather. Or simply mountain, obscured their signal.
Hopefully—please no—he hadn’t done something stupid and come up here looking for her.
Her boots slipped on the narrow hiking path—a mere hopscotch for the fire at this rate.
An explosion ripped through the air and she turned to see the fire crowning, torching treetops as it raced along the canyon. Spot fires ignited pockets of brush and juniper. The blaze crawled up the ridge.
Kate tucked the radio into her pants pocket and took off in a run along the top, jumping boulders, following the trail toward a tourist lookout. Sweat beaded down her face and shirt, her breaths coming in gulps—and behind her, Hannah struggled, her breath labored. Smoke settled over the top of the ridge, fogged them in, blinding her.
Kate missed the edge of the cliff and nearly launched herself into space. If not for Hannah, she would have crashed over, right down the rocky face that cascaded to the river.
Instead, Hannah lunged for her, grabbing her shirt, jerking her back. Kate slammed against the edge of the embankment, scrubbing her bottom against the rocks and brush, kicking out boulders as she fought for purchase, her breath coming hard. “Whoa—!”
A half mile below, at the bottom of a tumble of Volkswagen-sized boulders, black spruce, and cut, gleaming ledge-rock, snaked a glistening ripple of river, the enticing safety of crystalline blue water.
The fire hadn’t reached it yet. But the flames raced along the canyon floor.
“We can’t make it,” Hannah said in a choked whisper.
“No.” Kate scrambled back to the trail, calculating the speed of the fire below, the threat behind them, and, on the other side of the ridge, the sheer-face cliff which made this trail so spectacular on a clear, sunny day.
She schooled her voice. “Jed, if you can hear me, we’re trapped. We need a drop r
ight at the top of the ridge.” She met Hannah’s eyes, her jaw tight, then glanced behind her, at the fire. A trickle of flames had burned across the top, met the scrub trail, and looked like they might be dying, but from below, the fire charged up the ridge, consuming the scraggly spruce that grew at an angle.
If she had a chute, she might just leap off the edge, take her chances in the sky.
She nearly jumped at Jed’s voice, crackling through the line. “Five minutes out, Kate. Conner’s trying to locate you. Where are you?”
Conner? He wasn’t coming up the mountain—“Turn him around, Jed. No one is getting through—”
“He’s got his drone. Give us your position.”
A rush of relief, but even a drone hadn’t a hope of finding them in this cloud of smoke.
“I’m on the ridge—Jed, it’s getting pretty hot up here.”
Hannah had dropped her Pulaski, and Kate indicated for her to pick it up.
More crackling over the radio, his voice choppy.
“Jed?”
Static.
Kate slipped the radio into her leg pocket. Through the blackened smoke, she glimpsed tongues of fire consuming a nearby baby pine, just forty yards below. She met Hannah’s wide, stricken eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Hannah nodded.
Kate grabbed her hand. “Follow me.” Then she ran, full out, back into the smoke, dragging Hannah behind her. “The only safe place is in the black!”
She kicked away the flames, dodging the embers as the brush burned around her. Below her, the flame lengths reached fifty feet high, arching toward her, jumping from tree to tree.
Embers rained down, hitting her helmet, the collar of her shirt, and she slapped at them, her eyes tearing, the smoke choking her. The flames behind them had quieted, having consumed the fuel and dying at the edge of the trail. If she could find some cool black...she’d spotted a dip in the ridge on her flight to the top, had lodged it in her brain, and now she calculated the distance.
Behind her, Hannah was crying, coughing. Flames flickered at Kate’s ankles, her feet crunching through a thin layer of ash. Bits of charred aspen leaves, pine cones, and needles rode the gusts that cycloned from below, incendiaries that singed their shirts, their bandannas.
“Here—we’re here!” Kate nearly fell to her knees as the ground dipped below them, a roughened patch of trail washed out by some tributary, scarred, burned over in a light, rippled layer of a flash blaze. It created a clear cut across the trail about five feet wide, just as deep.
Around them, fire crackled in the thicker tundra, pulsing, alive.
But the dirt in the wash was dry, bare.
Kate gripped her Pulaski and swung it down. “Dig yourself a hole!” She scraped at the ground, digging out a hole to breathe, to pocket herself in. “The fire’s going to jump the ridge!”
Beside her, Hannah scrabbled at the ground, digging a well into the rocks. The wind snarled, ferocious as it swirled around them. Smoke hung in the air, black and thick. The fire inside it crackled.
“Deploy your fire shelter!”
Hannah dropped her Pulaski and stared at Kate.
“Now, Hannah.” Kate grabbed her fire shelter as Hannah fumbled with hers. Around them, the flames leaped three stories high, raining down fire.
Not again. Please.
The wind ripped the shelter from Hannah’s hands, and Kate reached out and caught it—reflex more than training.
She shoved the shelter back at Hannah, who gripped the edges, shaking.
“C’mon. Just like we practiced—feet in the bottom, drop, and pull it over you.”
Hannah shoved her feet in the bottom pockets, grabbed the top edge, and pulled the silver Kevlar over her shoulders, falling face down in the dirt.
Kate grabbed her own shelter, the heat scorching her face.
“Stick your face into that hole and breathe the cool air!” She fell, face down into the dirt, anchoring the edges with her feet, her gloved hands. “Don’t leave your shelter!”
Please. They wouldn’t get the brunt of the blaze, and with the lack of fuels, the radial heat might not be enough to melt the shelter. But with the fire cresting over them, the shelter could supercharge with heat—and her biggest struggle would be convincing Hannah not to lose it, run out into hell. “It’s going to be okay!”
Kate anchored the tent with her elbows, her hands, and leaned her forehead on her helmet, sunk her face into the dirt.
The hole still secured the cool breath of humidity despite the flashover—she’d dug deep enough to protect her lungs.
“Ransom, Burns. Come in.”
Her radio buzzed in her pocket. Outside, the fire thundered, angry, the shelter swelling with heat. Sweat rolled down her face, drenched her body. Outside, the world glowed red through the pinpricks of light into the shelter.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Seconds. She grabbed her radio, dropped it beside her mouth.
“Jed...It’s Kate. We’re on top of the ridge. We had to deploy. We need...” She took a breath, wincing.
Help. We need help.
Next to her, Hannah started whimpering. “I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die—”
“Hannah. Shh. Stay in your shelter. We’re going to live through this—just stay calm.”
She put her elbow in the pocket, kept her hand on the walkie. Her arm sizzled in contact with the fabric of the shelter, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
“Kate, come in! Answer me!”
Outside, the roaring climaxed as the dragon consumed the forest, rising above the ridge. The breath lifted the edges of her shelter, and embers scooted in, burning through her pants.
She bit her lip but couldn’t deny a whimper.
Then, because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t think, couldn’t believe—- “Jed. I’m scared. I’m really scared. Please...help me.”
She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her, could never know, because the fire crowned, and in a roar, the demon’s hand washed over her.
Next to her, Hannah screamed.
Kate was dying. Burning to death on the ridge, where Jed had sent her to keep her safe.
Jed pressed the walkie to his forehead, sweat dripping down his back, shaking. He toggled the com again. “Kate!”
Static on her end.
Even from here, the heat seared his skin, the smoke tearing his eyes, scorching his lungs as the fire blew up, charging up the ridge, torching spruce in plumes of angry flames that scorched the sky. Smoke clogged the canyon, rolling out in a wave of acrid death, and the air shook, the rumble of a locomotive low and menacing.
I’m scared. At least he thought those might’ve been her words—they’d cut in and out, choppy, broken.
Not unlike his breath, the beating of his heart.
He put his binoculars to his eyes, scanned the ridge, but the smoke boiled up, over the top, obscuring all hope of spotting them. “Conner, find them!”
Conner had dropped to his knees, scanning his iPad, the drone high above the treetops, dodging torches of black spruce and lodgepole pine. “I have no reference point.”
“Air Attack, can you get me a visual on my jumpers? They’re in shelters on the western ridge.” He fought the panic from his voice. “And I need an ETA on that drop—”
“Smoke’s too heavy on the ridge, we can’t get close enough for a visual or a drop. Air Attack is circling, trying to locate your jumpers.”
“We need a drop over the ridge line, now.”
“We only have one load left—if we drop in the wrong location—”
The deep thrumming of the C-130 vibrated above the valley, too high for the retardant to save them.
“Kate, you still with me?” Jed had abandoned any formality, closed his eyes, as he willed for her voice to come crackling through the line.
More static, and he realized he was holding his breath.
Behind him, his crew had widened the line, and he�
�d already called in the second load of jumpers from Gilly, although with the cyclone of air over the canyon, they’d have to drop from higher, farther out, the fire too dangerous for a closer deployment.
The rest of his team, along the eastern edge of the canyon, had taken advantage of the wind shift to fortify the line, their job now to watch for slop-over and spot fires.
But he knew that every eye was trained on the ridge, dread rising as they watched Kate and Hannah fight for their lives.
“I think I found ’em,” Conner said, and Jed dropped to his knees beside him. The drone hovered above the ridge, and Conner held it steady as he pointed on the screen to a shiny blip in the fabric of the smoke and blaze. Two tiny shelters resembling sleeping bags tucked in a niche, fire and smoke licking over the tops as the fire leaped the apex of the ridge and rained down the far side.
It had to be over a hundred degrees in those fire domes.
“Smart. Going into the black, finding that niche. If they sit tight, the blaze will arch right over them,” Conner said.
Jed studied the screen for signs of life. Nothing, except for the fact that the shelters’ edges didn’t fly up with the torrent of wind and ash, evidence that Hannah and Kate fought to keep them pinned.
Smart, indeed. In the pocket of dirt, they might find protection even from the wind and arching of the blaze as it licked over the top of the ridge. Still, flame lengths of fifty feet torched off nearby pines, the entire ridge alight with fire and ash.
Kate and Hannah might suffocate before they burned.
He put a hand to his chest, his knees weak.
“Can you get those images to Air Attack?” Jed said. “We need a load of retardant on their position right now.”
“No. But I’ll see if I can figure out a reference point.” Conner piloted the drone higher, staring at the screen, and Jed moved away, sat on the ground, his gaze through his binoculars to the last place he’d spotted her.
Help me.
He put his walkie to his lips. “Kate,” he said softly, eyes on the shelter. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, hang on. Just...hang on. I’ve ordered a retardant, and they’re trying to find you.”
Where There's Smoke: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 1) Page 17
