by Grey, Helen
“There’s some brain buckets over there,” she said, pointing to a small pile of yellow hard hats. “Take the west side of the line. We’re trying to contain the blaze on this mountain from heading any further south. If the wind changes direction…”
She didn’t have to say any more. Even from here, I felt the heat of the fire as it wafted toward us on the breeze, carrying with it large bits of ash. One stuck to my lip and I quickly wiped it away, surprised by the heat it still carried. The flames that were just now topping the ridge on the other side of the mountain were reddish-orange, the smoke billowing up a dark gray. The fire was churning through the underbrush. Occasionally, darker plumes of smoke rose and swirled as the fire ate its way up pine trees and the sap caught.
I followed Matt to the pile of hard hats and we each slipped one on. Nearby were piles of hand tools. We each grabbed a shovel and a fire axe. Following Matt, we quickly got to work.
While we worked to clear a wide swath of underbrush about six to ten feet wide, I began to wonder about the woman, Sam. Was that jealousy I felt? How well did he know her? I supposed it didn’t matter, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Matt was close to her—or had been close to her. Come to think of it, did he have a penchant for female Hotshots?
I pushed the thought out of my mind, trying to focus only on digging, pulling and tugging with my shovel and axe to work loose the scrub brush that offered prime fuel for the wildfire. As we cleared away brush, the brush disposal crew came along behind us to cart it away.
The process for constructing a fire line was called a bump up, or bumping the line. It was quite an interesting technique. While Matt and I worked together along with other men and women along this line, each of us had some space between us. As one firefighter took over another, the firefighters up ahead moved approximately one space forward, starting a new part of the line. The workers behind didn’t move ahead until their space was cleared. The overall forward progression of the crew was coordinated by the crew boss.
It was hard, backbreaking, exhausting work. In less than an hour, I was breathing heavy and sweating rivers of water down my entire body. I was also doing my share of coughing and worked to keep my breathing even. We worked hard, as fast as we could. I heard Matt breathing heavy beside me. I did my best to keep up with him and refused to take a break before he did.
Just about when my shoulders began to ache with pain and my breath came in short gasps, not only because of the exertion, but also because of the smoke and dust, Matt stood and brushed his hand over his forehead. He removed his hard hat and swiped his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. I did the same.
It was hot. Miserably so, but I took it easy on my water, allowing myself no more than one or two gulps at a time. Every once in a while, I glanced at Matt. Covered from top to toe now with dirt, dust, and sweat, I nevertheless felt a shiver of desire race through me. He looked so masculine, and seemed to have endless strength, endless energy, and endless endurance. I admired his tenacity, and did my best to keep up with him, stroke for stroke.
I lost all track of time, concentrated only on digging, chopping, pulling, and tugging—and swearing—at the brush. Foot by foot, we cleared a swath near the base of the mountain. Standing upright to stretch my aching back, I looked up the line, which seemed to weave its way like a snake up along the mountainside. Dozens of us, hundreds even, trying to clear the brush and create a backstop.
I don’t know how long we were up there before we were relieved, but I think it was about midafternoon before another small crew came up to replace us. Trembling from weariness, I was grateful to shakily make my way back to the fire crew truck for a couple hours of rest at the base camp.
Once again, I followed Matt off the truck, nearly stumbling into him as I did so. My thighs felt like spaghetti. I needed something to eat, even if it was just a protein bar. He turned to glance down at me.
“You okay?”
I nodded, embarrassed. The last thing I needed was for Matt to think I couldn’t keep up. The first couple of days were always the hardest for me. Then, I would get my second wind and despite the soreness of my muscles for a couple of days after that, I was better equipped to get into the mode, so to speak. Transitioning from the hospital environment to the wilderness was a drastic change, no matter how well you prepared in between.
Matt and I headed to the mobile kitchen and then he directed me toward the covered tent with the picnic benches while he continued toward the kitchen trailer.
“Go find us a spot and I’ll bring us something to eat,” Matt directed.
I was glad that I didn’t have to go into the trailer, at least this time, because even the thought of navigating the three steps up into it caused me to grit my teeth. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how many hours I spent on elliptical trainers, treadmills, or even climbing up and down stairs, there was nothing like being out in the wilderness, trying to balance on a steep slope, while at the same time digging and hacking at the underbrush.
I did so, finding an empty table toward the front of the tent. The smell of smoke was embedded in everything—my nose, my hair, my clothes. I doubted I would smell anything else over the next few days. Several other firefighters silently ate, too tired to offer more than a wordless nod of greeting. I imagined we all looked the same–dirty, tired, sweaty.
The aroma of beef stew or some kind of soup and bread mixed with the acrid stench of smoke, sweat, and, let’s face it, body odor. I’m sure I didn’t smell so great at the moment either.
In a matter of moments, Matt returned to the table, carrying a tray with two bowls of hearty vegetable beef stew and plate piled with about six pieces of bread. Two cups of steaming coffee was on either end of the tray, well balanced in his hands. We would eat quickly and return to the lines.
I ate with gusto, and even though I couldn’t smell the soup because my sinuses had been barraged with the scent of fire, the food tasted delicious. Simple though it was, I knew that when the line got further from base camp, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy a hot meal. Sometimes, a meal truck would be able to make it along the line, but more often than not, we would be stowing whatever food we could into our pockets. Power bars, granola bars, beef jerky, perhaps an apple or two, whatever we could.
It felt good to sit down, but I knew that if I sat too long I would quickly grow stiff. I ate without saying much, Matt eyeing me occasionally. Finally, I looked up at him with a pointed stare. “What is it, Matt? Spit it out!” He merely smiled at me, his teeth flashing white, contrasting sharply with his dirty, soot-covered face.
“I was just thinking that it’s nice working with you out here. You’re as badass here as in the ER?”
My heart skipped a beat. That was probably the closest to a compliment that I would get at the moment, and I appreciated it. I nodded. “Ready to get back?”
He stuffed a half piece of bread in his mouth and nodded. Without another word, I picked up my paper bowl and the now empty bread plate and tossed it into the waste bin as I exited the tent. He did the same and then placed the tray on the stack near the trashcan.
We eventually made our way back to the line, replacing two others who would take a break and get something to eat, and then return. By the time nightfall approached, I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached. Even Matt was slowing down. Even though dusk fell quickly, accompanied by the heavy smoke cover, the bright orange glow of the fire just over the ridge cast eerie shadows over the mountain forests and the firefighters still working hard to construct the firebreak.
As another crew came to replace about a dozen of us, I wearily climbed into the transport truck and then sank down into my seat, my muscles shaking with exhaustion. I noticed that Sam also climbed aboard, taking a seat across the narrow aisle from Matt, who now sat between us. They exchanged a few low words, but I didn’t catch what they said to one another as I rested my head against my arm, cushioning it from jarring against the window.
Unbidden, and as exhausted as I felt
, a flash of envy surged through me. Even covered with dirt and sweat, I could tell Sam was a pretty young woman, with fine bone structure. I couldn’t help wondering… was Matt friends with her, or were they something else?
Only the sound of the truck’s engine was heard on the way back to the base camp. A huge number of tents had been set up to provide sleeping quarters for the firefighters. Because so many of us were on this side of the line, there weren’t enough cots to go around. Sam gestured with a hand wave as she headed to one tent, which I saw was filled with cots, thanks to one of the walls of the tent being pulled up to allow some air—smoky though it was—inside. At the moment, most of those cots were filled.
We had been assigned to tent number five. No cots, just sleeping bags in which over a dozen people lay asleep inside. The sound of snoring in the tent that Matt and I entered produced a cacophony of sounds, but I didn’t think I would have any trouble sleeping through that noise. I was exhausted.
We walked toward the rear of one of the tents where a number of sleeping bags were piled in a corner. I knew they would be dirty, probably stinky from other people’s sweat, but I didn’t give a shit. The plain truth of the matter was that dirty and stinky was the way it was out here. I couldn’t expect clean sheets or even a clean, brand-new, unused sleeping bag.
Matt and I grabbed a bag and placed them side-by-side at the back of the tent. Both of us wearily climbed into the sleeping bags, fully clothed. No sense in getting undressed, not that I would have anyway, surrounded by so many men. Cradling my head on my arm, I turned to my side and tried to relax.
Hard to believe that just hours ago, I had been in a crashing helicopter. My heart thumped with anxiety as I recalled my terror, and then in the next instant, I felt a wave of exhaustion drive away any thoughts except blessed sleep.
Unfortunately, I dreamed, reliving the Chinook crash, every moment of it, in my dream. Just at the moment before the chopper hit the mountainside, I woke up with a gasp. I sat upright, sweating, trembling, and gasping for breath. I glanced around. When I realized where I was, I feel a great sense of relief. I was glad I hadn’t screamed and woken up the other firefighters.
But I had woken one. In a matter of seconds, I felt Matt’s warm hand on my own. Sitting up, he wrapped me in his embrace and turned my face to his.
“Shhh,” he whispered in my ear. “It was just a bad dream. You’re okay.”
It was pitch black inside the tent, the sound of snoring all around us. His lips touched mine. I clung to him as if desperate for his touch, which I was. I returned his kiss with as much passion as I could. The passion of survival. The passion of life. The passion and overwhelming desire for him to touch me, to hold me close.
I clung to him. We were both dirty and disheveled, and we smelled of dirt, smoke and sweat, but it didn’t matter. In a matter of moments, he climbed out of his sleeping bag and joined me in mine. Feeling his body so close to mine made me feel instantly alive, alert, and filled with a burning desire to take him deep inside of me. We kissed, our tongues tangling as I entwined my legs around his. I wanted the feeling of close skin-to-skin contact, but we were surrounded by sleeping men.
This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t be doing this. I blew out a breath. At the same time, I couldn’t deny my desire. My pussy throbbed with an ache for his strokes that wouldn’t be assuaged. My breast tingled, hardened, and demanded his gentle touch. We both tried to be quiet, knew that we had to be. In a matter of seconds, one of his hands had made its way underneath my shirt. My fingers unbuttoned the buttons of his camo pants and I slipped my hand inside, grabbing his hard erection. So soft and velvety on the outside, the skin sliding softly beneath my fingers, while underneath was nothing but hard, pulsing muscle. In seconds, thick veins trailed down the surface of his shaft.
In the next moment, his hand left my breast and his fingers were unbuttoning my pants. Then his warm fingers separated my lips, stroked for a few seconds, and then, feeling wetness, his middle finger delved deep inside my slit. This thumb circled my clitoris. Our lips never parted. My hand stroked his hard cock up and down in a smooth, firm motion, my thumb occasionally caressing its wet tip. At the same time, his palm cupped my pussy, rubbing gently against my clitoris while his finger mimicked the movements of what his penis would be doing if we’d been able to assume a better position.
Our hips thrust against each other as we rocked to the throes of our passion. I ran a finger up the length of one of the thick veins threading its way along his shaft. His cock reacted like a magnet. His finger plunged as deep as he could make it, and my hips rocked forward, trying to encourage him deeper. Occasionally, his thumb circled my clitoris, and then pressed, then circled again. I felt like I was dry humping his hand, except I wasn’t dry at all. I was wet with passion.
I tried to shift my legs so that his finger could reach deeper inside me. My hand left his shaft for just a moment and I reached down further, cupping his balls. They felt firm underneath my fingers as I manipulated them like a couple of giant marbles. Once again, my hand grabbed his cock, and as the throes of passion encompassed every part of my being, I tried not to grip him too hard. As my hand stroked faster and my hips rocked harder, I also felt the urge and thrust of his own.
It took every fiber of my being not to make any noise. His lips never left mine while his tongue probed deeply in my mouth and my tongue tangled with his. It was as close as we were going to get, and I took definite advantage. The feelings he invoked in me were just as powerful, just as intense as if he had been sucking on my pussy. Just thinking about it made me wet and slippery. His finger moved in and out smoothly. The faster my hips rocked, the more firmly he pressed his palm against that most sensitive part of me.
In a matter of seconds, I felt myself come, and I had to hold my breath as everything flashed white and the waves of my orgasm swept through me, causing my body to arch and contract in rhythmic motion. I felt his release as well, the surge of semen as it pulsed its way up his cock, and then squirted out, warm and thick onto the inside of my forearm.
Both of us breathed hard, but with our faces pressed into each other’s shoulders, we remained silent, our hearts pounding, our chests heaving. Perhaps some of the passion and excitement I felt was because of exactly where we were, and who surrounded us. It made our coupling even more dangerous, more risky, more sensual and exciting. Despite the fact that I hadn’t felt his cock inside me, I wouldn’t take it back for anything.
Finally, as my heartbeat returned to normal, he lifted himself away from me. He pulled his dirty T-shirt up over his head and used it to wipe the traces of semen off my arm with the bottom of his shirt.
Without a word, and with one last kiss, he returned to his own sleeping bag. My body still thrummed with the aftereffects of his skills. I felt myself grow lethargic, relaxed, and in a matter of seconds, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 2
The second day on the fire line was much like the first. The fire had not crested the ridge yet, but it was expected to, especially if the wind kicked up again today. Sighing, I realized the fire line I had worked on yesterday would be the same fire line I worked on today.
First, the break looked like a trail chopped out of the depths of the wilderness. Today, it looked wider and I knew that if everything went well, a bulldozer would soon be able to make its way through—at least halfway up the slope. After that, it was doubtful. Too many rocks. Too many trees. Too steep.
I began to get into a routine. Matt and I worked fairly close together, but since this morning, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. In fact, none of us did very much talking. As the morning wore on, with the firefighters shifting position on the line, Matt eventually ended up near the head of the line, halfway up the slope, while I was still down at the bottom. When I glanced at the firefighter about six feet from me, I recognized Sam.
She looked at me at the same time and we both nodded a greeting. Again I wondered how well Matt knew her, and if they wer
e just friends that saw each other occasionally, or something more. Perhaps they had a history. However, I noticed as the hours went on, that Sam glanced at me more frequently. I began to wonder if I was falling behind, but no, I was keeping up the line.
Finally, during a brief break, the bottom half of our fire line paused and switched out with a fresh crew. Tired and exhausted, hoping to get something to eat, I joined Sam and a few others as we climbed into the crew truck after our replacements arrived. We bounced our way back to base camp. Sam sat next to me in the truck, the seats almost exactly like those that I had ridden on the school bus in my youth.
“Hopefully, the cook crew will have something warm for us to eat,” Sam said.
I nodded in agreement. At this point though, I didn’t care whether the meal was hot or cold. “I’d take a sandwich and a coke if that’s all they’ve got,” I said.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Santa Fe. You?”
“Seattle.”
I couldn’t help myself. “How long have you known Matt?”
She shrugged. “About five or six years now,” she said, her gaze lingering out the window. She was looking up at the mountain. “We’d better get a handle on our section today, or we’re going to have to reposition.”
I followed her gaze and saw the flames topping another nearby rise. I nodded in agreement. “How long have you been a Hotshot?”
“About four years,” she said. “The Northwest division. How about you?”
“About the same,” I said, smiling. “I bounce around. Matt told me that his crew was short a person, so he invited me aboard.”
“The more the merrier,” Sam said and turned to me more fully. She stuck out her hand. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m Samantha Reynolds.”
I smiled and extended my hand as well. “I’m Jessica Landers, but as I told you before, Matt insists on calling me Jesse.”
