When a Fire Burns Hot
Page 9
“Man, this firefightin’ shit is easy,” Todd declared.
“Well, it grates on you... It can be a lot tougher than we’ve seen.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind doin’ some real work soon.” Todd didn’t even consider the fact that his friends would have laughed openly at him if they’d heard what he had just said. Todd looked across the forest at Paul, and manufactured a feeling of disgust for someone he felt had not accorded him due respect. He leaned towards Frank, hoping to recruit an ally. “Man, that Paul fucker’s no good. Almost had to bust his motherfuckin’ skull a minute ago... Tryin’da fuck me up,” Todd said with an ugly sneer and shook his head.
“Hmm,” Frank said and paused, “I don’t know if busting his head would be the best way to do it,” he offered daringly, while continuing to watch wisps of steam drift out of the log.
“You gotta do what’cha gotta do.” Todd felt a gush of proverbial wisdom run through him. “If yer walkin’ slow in a crowd, alla them other motherfuckers gets in the way,” he said, and then became quiet as he tried to discern if Frank’s silence was indication that the proclamation hadn’t made any sense.
“Well, it looks like it’s out,” Frank said, after a few minutes passed.
“Ain’ no more over here, let’s go get that one.” Todd pointed to a short, broken snag standing forty feet away; it spouted flames and sparks from its top like a roman candle.
“Naw, those guys’re closer, they’ll get it.”
Frank scanned the surrounding area for more signs of smoke, hoping that Todd would start doing the same.
“It’s goin’ up, ain’ it!” Todd said excitedly, not removing his eyes from the snag’s flaming top.
“It’s not going anywhere.” Frank’s annoyance began to grow. He was sure there were still smokes nearby, and he put a lot of value on being thorough in his work. He managed to speak calmly, “Sometimes you can smell a smoke out here. It takes a lot of skill to find all of ‘em; there’s gotta be one somewhere right around here.” Frank stepped onto a log and scanned the ground around him while sniffing the air like a dog.
Todd, meanwhile, began stomping around the immediate area, kicking any loose logs that lay nearby, suddenly wanting to be the one to find the next smoke.
Frank thought for a moment that he recognized the telltale scent of a smoke. His educated guess was that it had come from a large depression where some white and light brown ashes lay on the surface. He hopped down from the log and walked over to the depression. Upon closer examination, he could see little meandering lines of smoke exiting a hole in its center.
“Hey Todd, there’s a smoke over here!”
“Be right there, partner!”
Awkwardly, Todd tried pulling the hose to the place where Frank stood, but it caught on a log. While keeping his sights set on the smoke, he continued yanking impatiently, trying to free it by sheer might. The hose, however, wouldn’t come free and he cursed loudly, yanking harder in frustration.
Frank walked over to the hose and gently lifted the snagged section clear of the log. Frank pitied Todd. Todd didn’t act with the calculating patience of someone who is used to setbacks being a natural part of the working day, and his hurried, jerky body movements suggested he didn’t feel at all comfortable performing manual labor.
Todd finally managed to stretch the hose out to its full length, only to find that its nozzle was still shy of their smoke. “The fuckin’ thing won’ reach!” he growled.
“That’s cool, I’ll go get another fifty feet.”
As Frank followed the lateral line back to the cat track, he was relieved to leave the tension that seemed to constantly hover around his new partner. The effort spent on the near impossible task of adjusting so as to work effectively and peacefully with Todd had exhausted him, he realized. At all times, the man was like a dog backed into a corner, cagey and threatening. He told himself to celebrate his moment of liberation. His disposition rapidly improved as he passed over the area they had covered already. He spotted a small fumarole from a smoke they had apparently neglected and dug around it with his shovel, mixing the coals with cooler dirt, feeling free and happy in his work. He still marveled at his luck, being paid to be out in the woods on such an adventure. He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it.
He stopped working and waited for signs of smoke. Frank patted a large tree next to him, and a small cloud of black soot swirled around his gloved hand. He looked up and saw that most of the needles were still green. He was glad this tree hadn’t squandered its years and was now strong enough to withstand most fires that blackened its bark. He realized that it was now positioned to make use of an opportunity for more rapid growth as the forest below regenerated itself.
After several minutes had elapsed with no signs of smoke, Frank left the site and approached the mainline. He was pleased to find that no extra hoses were left and tromped down the cat track, enjoying the feel of his heavy boots as he lifted and dropped them solidly on the dusty ground. He took a deep breath and savored the sweet smells of the pine forest, smells which mixed strangely with the acrid smells of the burn. He looked over at the messy, uncharred forest; it was so much more complicated and confusing compared to the area that fire had swept bare.
A slight breeze filtered through the trees, and Frank recognized the loud popping noise of wood breaking. It came from somewhere in the black, and he searched for its origin. He caught sight of a good-size snag rolling off its base a safe distance inside the burn. It fell silently, like the blade of a guillotine, until it made contact with the ashy floor in a thundering crash. The impact vibrated the ground under the crew’s feet, and tossed up a cloud of soot. From all directions, crewmembers responded with whoops and yells.
Frank continued on his mission and soon located a pile of rolled, inch-wide hoses. He put two rolls under his arm before slowly plodding back toward his work area. When he arrived at his Y, he turned off the water to their lateral in preparation to add the new length. He found Todd sitting on a log, intently studying his dirty hands. Frank wasn’t surprised to discover that Todd wasn’t working, but the situation still seemed slightly unreal to him. “You could always dry mop, you know,” Frank said boldly.
“I was sittin’ on it,” Todd replied gruffly without looking up.
Frank saw that Todd had in fact stirred the area up, but such efforts to put out the smoke couldn’t even be considered an attempt. Frank rolled the hose out, switched the nozzle to the new end, screwed the two lengths together, and went to turn the lateral line on again. When he returned to the work site, Todd’s figure was almost entirely obscured by an enormous billowing cloud of steam. He stood proudly over the hot spot, blasting it with a thick, straight stream of water. The water meeting the hot coals and stones sounded like the roar of huge waves crashing into the face of a cliff. Todd was as serious and intent as a soldier might be when firing a cannon at a charging enemy. He was finally the powerful firefighter he had imagined he could be.
Frank lifted his hand and stepped into the depression, becoming slightly wet before Todd reluctantly turned off the hose. He then churned the soil with the shovel and dug out some of the coals buried deep in the ground. He next stepped out of the hole to change tools, inadvertently giving Todd a chance to resume his work. After several minutes of blasting had elapsed, Todd finally exclaimed, “Fucker’s dead out!” His face was taut with pride.
Frank dug around the edges and let the few live sparks that popped up speak for themselves. He spent another few minutes digging up more live coals and mixing them with the wet soil and ash before stepping aside, considering his job done. Todd soaked the area one last time, until a deep puddle formed. Then both men stepped back in silence.
Frank rested on a log next to the one on which Todd sat, watching the wet area for signs of smoke. He absently thought about Todd and what Todd’s life might be like. He had never spent much time around
someone like him before. He had heard that Todd was a member of one of the city’s gangs and, trying to sound as inoffensive as possible, he asked, “You ever been part of a gang back home?”
Todd turned slowly to face Frank, cocked his head, and said in annoyance, “Yeah, why you askin’?”
“I just have a question. Why do people start up with a gang in the first place?”
Todd was surprised at the question. He couldn’t figure out why Frank wanted to know about gang life, but neither could he figure out why he shouldn’t answer, and the novelty of an honest conversation actually appealed to him, despite his protective caution. “It ain’ like you see in the movies... That ain’ what is’all about. When I was a kid, all the neighbor kids hung out together, didn’t you?”
Frank nodded his head, as was being demanded of him.
Todd finally let some of the hostility leave his voice. “You either hung out alone and got beat up, or got in with these guys and had a buncha new friends.”
“But for me, as soon as I hit high school, I started studying and then working, and was too busy for anything like that.” Frank thought himself bold for saying what he had said.
“Man...” Todd lowered his head and looked up at Frank as if he were insane. A familiar disagreeableness returned to his voice. “Where the fuck ‘as I s’posed to work in my neighborhood? Or even if I was comin’ from my neighborhood, who’s gonna hire my ass?” Todd jerked his head sideways and examined Frank from another sharp angle. “And school? What the fuck’s that gonna do for me? I ain’ got nobody to pay for no college or nothin’ anyway. And besides, in school they don’ teach you shit ‘bout what you need to know.” Todd’s eyes focused intensely on Frank. “If you grew up in my shoes, you wouldn’t be in college. You wouldn’t even fuck with tryin’da kiss some motherfucker’s ass to get some shittyass, sit-behind-a-computer-all-day job! You’d prob’ly tryda do what I’m doin’, only you know what? You wouldn’ be ableda handle it... you’d be worm food ‘bout now!” Todd turned away, clenched his jaw, and folded his arms. His proud display of defiance signaled an end to the conversation. “I came here to get away from that shit, so don’ remind me!” he added gruffly.
Frank managed to keep from being offended by Todd’s words and let himself feel sympathy, a feeling he somehow knew would not last. He saw little hope in Todd, who seemed so indisposed to learning new things. If only someone like Fast Horse had gotten ahold of him earlier.
The call to lunch reverberated through the forest and the firefighters meandered toward other squad members, dropped their packs, and settled selectively on the ground.
Chapter 7
After lunch, the members of Squad Three relaxed in close proximity.
“Norris is like a bull,” Alaska, striking a pose by draping an arm over a propped up knee, continued in his debate with Todd on the issue of which of two martial arts movie stars would have been more likely to win in a hypothetical battle. “You can’t stop that man... he’d a taken that little chink and crushed him in his bare hands.”
Todd, sitting squarely against a tree and oozing aggression, responded, “That’s right, Norris is a big, dumb ol’ fuckin’ bull. Bruce Lee, now he was a wiry little dude. You couldn’da touched that mothafucker when he was alive. He’d a kicked that big dumb white boy’s ass ‘fore Norris coulda smiled his bigol’mothafuckin’Hollywood cappedteeth grin a his. Coulda hit ‘im so fast he couldn’da seen where it was comin’ from.” Todd paused before giving his more clinical explanation for the phenomenon. A small laugh appeared in his eyes. “See now, Bruce Lee was raised on rice and all that there Oriental shit. He grew up all lean an’ hungry an’ mean. Chuck, now, he just another silva spoon white boy all fat an’ shit after eatin’ too many a them burgers. So if they had fought it’d be like this, Chuck he’d be in there burpin’ away tryin’da fight with some kinda burger in-digestion is his belly, while ol’ lean, mean Bruce Lee’d be thinkin’ ‘Goddamn, I sure am sicka that rice shit ever’ day. I gotta get me some a them burgers like these dudes over in America all got,’ and then he’d get all pissed off ‘n shit and slam the hell outta that white boy.” Todd cackled loudly at the close of his words.
Alaska looked sideways at Todd for a moment, but decided not to take offense. He was having too good a time. “Naw, man, Norris is tough, I don’t care what you say. You gotta have beef to be strong and give you the energy. You hafta eat that American food. It’s got those carbohydrates and starches that you need to keep you goin’.”
Todd flashed a snarling grin at Paul. “Let’s test out what you’re sayin’ on veggie boy here. See if he can knock you out, ‘Laska.”
Paul, sitting cross-legged and just managing an air of serenity and control, attempted to appear unaffected by the comment. This prompted laughter from both Alaska and Todd.
Alice, slightly apart from the others and leaning back on her pack in the spotty shade of a dead tree, had been wholly disinterested in the conversation prior to that moment. But now she asked between puffs of her cigarette, “So, tough guy experts... who’d win, Superman or Spiderman?”
Scott’s slow, deep laughter was soon joined by Frank’s. Alaska, unaccepting of any laughter directed at him, replied, “Well, I know if you threw Wonder Woman in there, she’d be pretty good... for fuckin’.” Todd and Alaska looked at each other with fresh laughter spewing forth.
“Yeah, get me some a that Wonder pussy,” Todd said, causing both men to double over in hilarity.
Paul joined in with a giggle of his own, glad to be part of the merriment and have the beam of attention shifted off of him.
Alice waited patiently for the laughter to stop before asking, “Why is it the only things you two think are funny are either cruel or vulgar?”
Alaska squinted his eyes in irritation and was immediate in his retort. “Where the hell are you from? Haven’t you heard men talk before?” he said, hoping to knock Alice back into her place.
Alice propped herself up and said, “Since you ask, I’m from a ranching town in southern Oregon. I’m not saying the men there are saints, but they sure as hell aren’t disgusting all the time. They have a little dignity.”
Alice’s words had been delivered calmly, leaving both men at a loss for words. Todd couldn’t resort to the language of violence where a woman was concerned, and Alaska was almost too irritated to speak. Alaska finally managed to say, “If you can’t take it, then leave! I’m gonna talk the way I wanna talk!” Alaska scowled at Alice contemptuously, having been unable to manufacture a convincing look of indifference.
Alice remained cool to the intimidation. “Go ahead. If you want to sound that way, fine... it’s up to you, I guess.”
“You’d never last in Alaska,” Alaska grumbled, and shook his head while shifting his sitting position.
“We’re not in Alaska,” Alice said, before pulling smoke from her cigarette deep into her lungs.
Frank sat stunned. He watched with admiration as Alice offered Alaska and Todd a cigarette, which they accepted with slightly confused looks on their faces.
After a long silence, Paul spoke. “So Alaska’s a cool place, huh?”
Alaska turned slowly toward Paul, to glare at him as if he were a child who had just ventured uninvited into the adult world and was making a nuisance of himself. “Yeah, it’s a cool place,” he said, and paused before realizing that he wanted to say more about his home state. “It’s... one of a kind. Not so many people up there, and it’s fuckin’ beautiful. God’s country. Rivers and lakes full of fish, good hunting... it’s got it all.”
Paul began to picture his utopia. “Yeah, man, I’ve been thinking about goin’ up there. It seems really free.”
Alaska looked in disbelief at Paul. “You wanna pitch a tent, run around in the nude, high and free, then do it right here. No one’ll bother you.”
Todd burst out laughing, and eyed Alaska knowingly.
Alaska snickered. “I don’t know where you heard that, but homesteading is pretty much over. The state owns most of the land, so it’s probably a lot cheaper to get land down here if you really wanna know the truth.”
“Yeah, but like... down here it’s all screwed up. I wanna get up there before it gets like it is down here. I wanna go where there’s no buildings and freeways, man, where things are just left alone to do what they’re supposed to.”
“I’ll tell you, the only ones that’re fuckin’ Alaska up is the people from the lower fortyeight. They should just leave us alone and let us do what we want,” Alaska said firmly. “The way they got it now you can’t even hardly cut a tree without bending over for the government to come give you one from behind!” Alaska paused to savor Todd’s laughter.
“Hey man, why do you want your whole state to look all scraped up and ugly, full of strip malls and freeways?”
Alaska didn’t know how to respond to Paul this time, which only irritated him further.
Paul tried to remain calm, but was visibly upset by Alaska’s comments. Visions of living off the land and finding remote mountains to claim for himself were being stomped on.
“You can go up there if you want, no one’s stoppin’ you. Just don’t come to my town, you’ll probably get the shit beat outta you. And if you live in the woods don’t let your dog bug any of the neighbors, ‘cause it’ll get its head blown off. We don’t have your types up there. You gotta be tough and be able to do your part. Not just sit around smellin’ your own farts and saying, ‘this is the life, man’.”
Paul fell silent amidst Todd’s laughter. If Alaska was accurate in his depiction of what Alaskans were all about, then it was true; he wouldn’t fit in. He sure didn’t have any idea how to deal with people like his squad boss. He probably couldn’t adapt to such a place after all. No, Alaska was probably right, he shouldn’t go.