“Sad to see that one go, huh?” he said to Alice, trying to shield his exuberance.
“Everything goes sometime,” she yelled back, and then wondered what would come to take its place.
The crew heard a loud crack, and looked back as the snag they had used as a bridge snapped into two flaming pieces. Both crashed into the rushing water and were immediately picked up and sent barreling down the path of least resistance.
The drone of a huge plane could be heard in the distance. It appeared and passed once overhead, and then returned to fly lower over the trees, a couple hundred feet from the firefighters. It seemed, however, as if it would crash into them. On this second pass, the doors on the underside of the plane opened and released its huge red load, to drift through the smoke and coat a large strip of unburnt forest with a layer of glistening red.
Today, however, the flames knew no enemy. They stalled only momentarily at the new boundary before regaining their frenzied tempo. Some of the slurry still drifting in the air landed on the Willamette crew, coating the firefighters with little drops of red, marking a rite of passage.
Chapter 20
Frank, still hunched behind a boulder, heard Shroeder talking on the radio with someone from the overhead team. The plan, he deduced from what he understood of the conversation, was for the crew to follow the creek downward until they arrived at a particular place, where they would then begin climbing uphill to a helispot and be met by a helicopter.
“Saddle up!” Fast Horse commanded over the radio.
“We’re moving out,” Frank said with authority. “We’re going to a place to meet a helicopter and get the hell outta this place.”
“All right!” Scott said enthusiastically.
“A helicopter ride!” Derrick exclaimed, eyes gleaming.
“Keep your eyeballs uphill at all times,” Fast Horse warned over the radio, as everyone crawled out from behind their boulders. As the message was passed on by the squad bosses, the crew began weaving along a grassy, boulderstrewn path at the stream’s riparian edge. Occasionally, they had to step over smoldering logs, reminders of what had just taken place on the blackened, smoky hillside above.
Frank looked up at the fire-swept area. Long, straight black shafts stood in place of green lodgepole pines, and there existed only dark effigies of the once-majestic ponderosas. He remembered what he had been taught in school: the forest would grow back. It would take a long time for the ponderosas, though, longer than human terms could accurately define or possibly even comprehend, he guessed. The forest would have to start over. But had it burned so hot that the soil was sterilized, preventing plant growth for years and leaving the exposed ground vulnerable to erosion? Frank hated to think that fish habitat could be destroyed for tens of miles downstream. It probably hadn’t burned hot enough this time, he assured himself.
Anyway, there was nothing he could do about it now.
After nearly an hour, the crew halted their downward march. Their retreat had taken them past the foot of an almost sheer cliff that, days earlier, had been effective in stopping the downhill advance of the fire, and they now found themselves at the base of a gradual hill that hosted small trees scattered over its rocky surface. The crew followed Fast Horse’s lead and began their ascent out of the bottom of the valley. Whenever the firefighters looked back during their climb, they could see that the valley was much wider than it had been higher up, though the smoke obscured much of their view. When they were halfway up the hill, a break was called.
“What’re we doing tonight, Fast Horse?” someone asked.
“Hell, I’ll let you know as soon as they tell me,” Fast Horse said, loud enough for most to hear.
Those who had water drank some as they rested. Fast Horse noticed that some had run out. “If you have any extra water, give someone else some,” he commanded with less vigor than usual. “I don’t want anyone passin’ out out here, and we’ll get more soon.”
“They fucked up, they should pay the price.” It was Jim who spoke, figuring Fast Horse couldn’t hear him.
“So they fucked up. They know it.” Fast Horse said, irritated by a comment that had again undermined the crew’s morale. “What do you want me to do, send ‘em back for more?”
“We could do a rain dance...” Frank offered, smiling boyishly at Fast Horse.
Fast Horse was grateful to Frank for the comment, and the spark returned to his eyes. “Frank, ideas as good as yours, and you just might be crew boss someday,” he said, “or make some Indian a good squaw.”
“I thought you’d figure the first one out sooner or later.”
Fast Horse quickly lost his smile as he turned from Frank and looked in the direction of the fire. An uneasy feeling came over him, and for the first time he could remember, he didn’t want to be crew boss. He knew the feeling would pass, but he couldn’t find the reason for its sudden appearance, and that troubled him. He guessed it might be the fire behavior he had just witnessed, but usually he thrived on rising to such an occasion. And his crew was capable, of that he was certain. It was as if there was something out of his control trying to guide his crew in another direction, despite his efforts.
Fast Horse set his anxiety aside and slid up alongside Randy. “Hey Randy, how’s your squad holdin’ up?”
Randy looked at his boss and held onto his usual calm, steady demeanor. “Oh, doin’ pretty well, I’d say.” He was pleased to be talking with Fast Horse, and guessed that the purpose of their conversation could not be discerned from its surface.
“What’re we gonna do? Clear out in the helicopter?” Jim asked, nearly demanding an answer from Fast Horse.
Randy’s jaw muscles tightened.
Fast Horse felt himself giving in to his urge to vent his anger, but he knew that that should be saved for more important things. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I didn’t know and that I’d tell you when I did.”
“Oh. All right,” Jim said, and stepped over to a boulder to sit down.
When Fast Horse looked at Jim, he knew almost instinctively that he had said enough. Too much humiliation seemed dangerous. Randy seemed like he could take care of it. He left Jim and Randy, and headed over to joke with Julio.
“Man, fuck that shit!” Jim said after Fast Horse had departed.
Randy turned to Jim and said in disgust, “Jim, man, quit bein’ such a whiner!” Randy felt a tinge of regret that he had reprimanded Jim like he had, but he let his comment stand.
Jim instantly felt hot all over. Being called a “whiner” was about the worst thing that anybody could be called on a fire crew, and it had been done in front of the rest of the squad. The deep wound inflicted on Jim’s pride was too serious to be healed with a quick return to banter. While he could have at least salvaged some of his selfesteem with a charged retort, he said nothing. Randy would have to try and make it up to him, he decided.
The crew worked for over an hour to clear the helispot of trees and damaging debris. While resting after their work, the firefighters heard the ship long before it showed itself in the wide valley below. When it finally appeared and the crew saw that a large cargo net, loaded with supplies, was suspended from a cable one hundred feet below the aircraft, they discerned that they would be spending the night up there.
Fast Horse abruptly cut off his radio communication as the helicopter neared. “Everybody clear out!” he yelled urgently. “Stand over there by those trees where Alaska is!” Fast Horse then resumed his transmission.
All three squad bosses felt foolish for not ordering their squads to a safe area earlier.
After the hanging net swung into place and touched ground, Fast Horse again stopped transmitting and cautiously hustled over to it, Shroeder lumbering awkwardly at his side. Working around helicopters made Fast Horse as close to tense as was possible. He had never seen an accident up close, but had heard of many, including incident
s where loads had been accidentally released on top of people, or had swung into them when a ship was blown by a gust of wind.
Shroeder bumped into Fast Horse as he tried to assist in the uncoupling of the load, like a robot trying to stay in sync with a ballet dancer. “Get back over there! I got it!” Fast Horse was forced to yell, with urgency. Shroeder backed away, displaying a look of disgust to mask his injured pride.
After the net was uncoupled and waved away, the ship rose quickly, disappearing into the smoke seconds later. Fast Horse made an inventory of the load as the helicopter drifted back to its base, effectively stranding the crew on their mountain perch. In the net were boxes of drinking water, precooked packaged meals or “MREs,” a box of fruit, batteries for the radios, sleeping bags, and chainsaw gas and oil.
The crew quickly approached the helispot’s center. and most began filling their canteens as soon as they arrived at the boxes. Fast Horse rested one foot on a box of sleeping bags, and grabbed the crew’s attention. “So, it looks like we’re stuck here for the night. They said they weren’t sure if there was time to get everyone before it got dark, and they didn’t wanna chance it. Better this way anyway -- we’ll get paid for eighteen hours today. We’ll bed down here, and then they’ll probably use us somewhere back down there tomorrow.” Fast Horse pointed at the valley floor. “So, seein’ as we’ll be callin’ this home, I need ten volunteers to go and gather some wood for the fires tonight, as it could get a bit cold.” Fast Horse was pleased to hear no protest from Shroeder, though Shroeder likely knew that they would be violating regulations by building fires.
“I’ll go,” Alice offered, and was joined by others until total of nine had set out toward a stand of small, windblown trees.
Frank fell in step behind Alice as the wood-gathering group walked. His eyes traveled clandestinely down the length of her body. He then experienced a spasm of insecurity and stepped up beside her. “Guess we’d all better spread out... Get more wood that way,” he said, for all to hear.
“Yeah, good idea there, Frank,” Alice said, smiling at what she saw as an attempt by Frank to fit into his role as boss.
As everyone put some distance between themselves and their fellow wood gatherers, Frank remained by Alice’s side, searching in vain for something more to say.
Back at the helispot, Fast Horse again voiced a request to those still gathered there, “All right, I need three of you to organize gear with me.”
Three out of the remaining six volunteered, leaving Jim, George, and John with no assignment. The three were positioning themselves to jump on the opportunity to search the rocky, uneven area for the best sleeping spots.
“So the rest of you got something to do, I guess,” Fast Horse continued loudly, “but we’re four short on sleeping bags, and you three just made my decision easy.”
“Fuuuuck!” Jim brayed.
“Aw, shit!” said George.
Young John looked as if he had just realized he might be driving the wrong direction down a one-way street.
“I don’t have one either, so I don’t want to hear any more about it,” Fast Horse said to them coolly, but without malice.
Fast Horse, after telling his helpers where they were to stage the gear, turned to Shroeder and asked his advice on a couple of matters. He then proceeded to communicate several theories concerning working around helicopters, throwing in as many smiles as seemed convincing for effect. Shroeder, however, maintained an air of childish aloofness. Fast Horse then stopped talking and wheeled around quickly, having finally registered the direction in which he had last seen Derrick heading, after breaking away from the other wood gatherers.
Fast Horse searched the area for a few minutes before he found his nephew. He approached the younger man carefully. Derrick was perched on the edge of a long, deep cliff, smiling youthfully as the wind whipping across valley lifted his braids above his head, causing them to resemble writhing snakes, poised to strike. Fast Horse slipped beside him cautiously.
After a few minutes of silence, and without turning toward Fast Horse or changing the expression of zeal on his face, Derrick finally spoke. “The wind... it just shoots across canyons... goes wherever the hell it wants.”
Fast Horse carefully prepared a response. “Derrick, you lived too long in a place that didn’t have any wind. You forgot that it’s these big rocks we’re standin’ on that makes that wind go where it goes.”
“Sure seems free to me. Here, watch this.” Derrick plucked a small leaf from a nearby bush and flung it into the current of air. It immediately shot into the canyon and out of view.
“Derrick, there’s only one thing you gotta promise me you’ll remember.”
Derrick finally turned to look at Fast Horse, and noticed the lines of worry on his Uncle’s face.
“That leaf you just threw up there... the one that wasn’t attached to a bush anymore... that leaf is dead.” Fast Horse smiled and nudged Derrick.
Derrick finally broke into a wide smile and began to laugh.
“Do it quick! Fucking kill the motherfucker!” a voice yelled in the dull gold evening.
“With what?”
“Real men use their bare hands!”
“Fuck you! You do it with your hands. I’m gonna get a big ol’ rock!” George bent over a large rock lying on the ground. He wrested it free of the hardpacked dirt and raised it above his head. For several seconds he held it there, nearly motionless, before smashing it down solidly upon a large, coiled rattlesnake, missing the animal’s head and flattening some of the coiled sections of its body. The bleeding snake writhed on the ground like a chopped worm.
“Whoa ... check that out! Fucking snake looks funny, huh?”
“Shit yeah, man... Finish him off!” Randy said urgently.
“Yeah, okay.”
George picked up another rock, and his second shot hit the snake squarely on its head. The rock rolled away to reveal that the bloody reptile was dead. They all watched in boyish wonder as still-active nerves made its body twitch.
Frank, having finally left Alice’s side, had been wandering the outskirts of the helispot and followed the voices of Squad Two. He had watched, horrorstruck, as the final blow was delivered. He was sickened by what he considered an act of pure barbarism. The men had shown to him that they were capable of killing without remorse; this was the concrete proof he had long been seeking. The snake was dangerous, a small voice inside him said, but the animal was far enough away from the camp that its death could be considered an atrocity. Their true motive in acting so vilely was unpardonable, he decided. Frank puffed himself up for a confrontation. The elixir of adrenaline felt intoxicating as it pulsed through his body. He stomped towards the killers, telling himself that he wasn’t messing around anymore, these fuckers were going to be told what was right and what was wrong. They’d listen this time.
“Deaaad motherfucker!” George announced proudly.
“Yeah, no shit. How much did you get for that skin last time, John?”
“Fuck, only ‘bout twenty bucks. Can’t use this one though, it’s too cut up thanks to Hercules, here.”
“Hey kid, if I want your lip, I’ll rattle my zipper,” George responded.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Frank barked, startling the men huddled around the dead snake.
Springing up more quickly than the rest was Jim. He then lowered his head and clenched his jaw.
“Fucking stupid, just killing a little animal for nothing!” Frank said tensely, breathing hard as he faced the men.
“Look, don’t come getting into our shit! We killed a rattlesnake that could have killed you!” Jim said quickly, with a voice that screeched with animosity. “You should be thanking us, dumbfuck!”
The last word spoken echoed in Frank’s head. He was launched into a state of hysteria. “You’re a fucking idiot!” he blurted, in a
voice that was much higher pitched than intended. He adjusted and spoke again, “I shudder to think what goes on in your thick head.”
Jim laughed caustically, as if lightly amused. He smiled at his partners-in-crime standing on either side of him before saying, “Ooh, you shudder, huh? Gee, I’m sorry to make you shudder, there, big guy.”
Jim noticed Frank’s hands turn to fists at his sides, but he didn’t make any other move to appear fight-ready. He was, however, prepared and more than willing to fight if it were to come to that.
Frank aimed a severe piercing glare at Randy. He hated Randy for siding with the others - those who had made themselves his enemies by their actions. He then refocused on Jim.
“Nice evening for hunting, huh boys?” A voice called out from a distance.
The men looked up to see Fast Horse standing atop a large boulder, looming impressively above them. No one responded.
Fast Horse dropped lithely off the boulder and made his way to where the men were gathered. “Good shot!” he exclaimed when close enough to examine the snake.
The men of Squad Two remained silent.
“They killed it just for fun,” Frank said, expecting to be vindicated.
“Well, looks like meat to me now. I’ll tell ya what, boys... where I come from, they say I cook a pretty mean snake; whad’ya say I cook it up, and you all come by later and we’ll have us a little feast. I guarantee it’ll be better than those old MREs, or you get your money back.”
Randy motioned blandly towards the snake with an upturned hand, and all the men stood back to let the leader pass.
Fast Horse bent down and smoothly lifted the limp reptile. “Shit, I’ll go start ‘er goin’ now. I like the coals to be almost gone when I cook snake. You know, just a little orange glow left... that’s just right to cook it all the way through and not burn the outside too bad,” he said with a personable flair, quickly examining each of the men in turn as he spoke. He then climbed back up onto the boulder before turning to face the men once more. “Come by later, don’t forget. It’ll give you strength for all that work you’re gonna do in the morning,” he said, with the dead snake dangling lifelessly beside him, its hard tail scraping the ground. Fast Horse then tugged on his reins and stepped out of sight.
When a Fire Burns Hot Page 30
