“Come ooon!” Randy yelled in a frenzy. He hurled the still running saw into the woods, and whipped John’s pack off his back. He then snapped open the buttons of John’s fire shelter case as quickly as he would have loaded a gun in the face of a charging bear. When he tilted the case, a carefully wrapped, long-forgotten sandwich fell flatly onto the ground. Both men looked at the sandwich and then each other as terror bit into them.
“I didn’t think I...”
“You don’t have it?”
John shook his head, ready to cry. He had not understood that the other men who carried their sandwiches that way had always moved the shelter to their backpack, and not left it in camp as he had.
“Toss your tool and helmet and lay down! Face in the dirt, feet towards the closest fire!”
John obeyed dutifully and was immediately lying rigid and straight, his body pointing in the proper direction. Randy flung his own pack to the ground, removed his fire shelter from its plastic case, and quickly spread it over John as the wind tried to pick it up and take it in its grip. “Hold onto those handles and hook your boots in, and DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE LET GO! JUST STAY THERE TILL IT’S OVER AND DON’T MOVE!” Randy commanded, and then began running at an angle along the edge of the western wall of fire in what he knew was a race for survival. He stopped abruptly and scanned the dark surroundings, panting hard, his lungs on the verge of exploding. He saw nothing but uninterrupted forest with small spot fires just coming to life between the two impenetrable barriers of eddying violence. The two would clearly become one in a matter of seconds, leaving no escape. It was what he had feared back on the trail. He tried to scream, but couldn’t.
He faced the east and saw only a glowing red mass, angrily spitting fire and glowing coals outwards and upwards as if it were one enormous living creature. Fuck, it was really happening! He had never imagined it could. He had only himself to blame, and swallowed the fact hard. He knew exactly where he had gone wrong. He had learned his lesson.
He chose the biggest of three nearby ponderosas, took off his belt, and wrapped it around the tree before scaling its trunk like a bear, holding onto both ends of the belt. When he reached its swaying branches, he continued to the highest possible point, and then stopped to wrap the belt tightly around his wrist before buckling it around the trunk of the tree. He hugged the giant pine tightly, and waited. He could do no more. He pumped himself up with courage. From his lofty altar he said a prayer, squeezed his eyes shut, and awaited the arrival of the roaring beasts.
Frank looked over his shoulder in the direction from which they’d come. A large, angry, billowing column of smoke about half a mile wide rose well beyond the rim of the canyon to what seemed an incalculable height. “Fuckin’ A!” he said aloud. A troubled, uneasy feeling spread over him, and he tried to shake it before he became nauseated. Fuckin’ idiots should have known better, he told himself. It didn’t help. He looked nervously at the closer firestorm again, undeniably an impressive sight. He told himself he was secure and out of its reach, safe from harm. It was as it should be. He had done the right thing. It wasn’t his problem if others hadn’t.
The remainder of the crew arrived at the safety zone at the far end of the canyon, which was festooned with bright pink and red flagging. It lay deserted, the hot-shot crew’s path of departure clearly marked by a wide fire line heading uphill. Many of the firefighters present felt oddly alone, having hoped or expected that they would meet the other crew, have some form of contact with the outside world.
“Fast Horse, Frank.”
“Go ahead, Frank,” Fast Horse said between deep breaths.
The rest smiled with relief upon hearing Fast Horse’s voice over the radio. Nothing had happened to him. He hadn’t abandoned them. He was still their leader, and they were safe.
“Yeah, we’re at the helispot,” Frank said.
“Eastern one right?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, just make sure it’s all clear for the ships to land.”
“Copy.”
“Shroeder, Fast Horse.” Fast Horse paused and then, with more urgency, said, “Shroeder, Fast Horse... Randy, Fast Horse... Click your mike! Anything!”
There came no response.
Frank and the rest of the crew began to pick up sticks and throw them aside, more in an effort to keep busy than to clear the helispot, which was already virtually free of debris. Frank let the others finish the work and sat down to stare at the nearest plume. It seemed to be looming larger by the minute.
Alice sat down silently beside him, and stared openly at his profile before resting her gloved hand on his knee. “They’ll be all right,” she said.
“Sure wish those two would fucking get here,” Frank said, without turning to face Alice. “Derrick, man...” He shook his head in annoyance.
Alice squeezed his knee and continued to look at him openly, saying nothing.
Frank felt her warm gaze and wanted the moment to maintain itself for as long as he desired. This was how it should be, he told himself. This was the life from which he had long been absent. He turned to watch her lips spread to a cautious smile. He smiled back, squint-eyed and confident, and put his gloved hand on hers, again experiencing a now-familiar tingling sensation.
The firefighters felt the hot wind on their faces, and instantly turned in the direction from which it had come. They faced the new fire, whose smoke column not only towered over the forest, but appeared looked like it was getting fatter and spreading out in all directions. This healthy offspring had grown even larger than the parent fire in the distance, and seemed to be no longer affected by the wind, as if it had entered a new life stage. It seemed dissatisfied with simply burning the valley in stages, intending instead to devour it in one flaming gulp.
The crew suddenly heard two helicopters’ roars coming from beyond the hill above them. Many let out cheers and others breathed sighs of relief as they cleared out of the helispot to make room for the first ship to land.
“Willamette crew helispot, this is Nine Kilo Alpha,” A calm, professional voice announced, with a pilot’s relaxed, Chuck Yeager drawl.
“Go ahead Nine Kilo Alpha,” Frank said, trying to match the tone of the pilot.
“That safety zone isn’t big enough for the ten-man. Advise cutting the two southeastern ponderosas.”
Frank looked at the two towering monoliths and suddenly felt helpless and small. An urge to surrender gripped him. He lost his squint, and stared wideeyed at the firmly rooted obstacles. He felt as if everything had just slipped out of his hands like water. “Um, we can’t,” he answered, inadvertently letting the professionalism slip from his voice as he tried to fight back his panic. “We don’t have any saws.”
“Copy that. The five-man is coming in to land at your location. We’ll try and make two trips, but be advised that time is limited. Over,” said the pilot, who, like most helicopter pilots of his time, had seen much worse situations in other parts of the world.
“Copy.”
The crew looked plaintively at the departing ten-man ship as signs of ash appeared in the air above them. The sky then grew steadily dimmer, and the sun was quickly reduced to a bloodred disc in the sky.
“Julio, your squad can go first!” Frank yelled over the noise of the descending helicopter and the distant roar of the flames. Like the others who were present, he had a good idea that there would be no second load until after the fire had burnt over the helispot.
“No way! Your squad goes first!”
Alice stepped beside Frank before Scott stepped into place on Frank’s opposite side. All three shook their heads.
“Okay,” Julio said, squaring his shoulders. He barked some commands to his squad, who then readied their gear. Soon he would be the sole member of Squad One left at the helispot.
Frank looked at Alaska, who wore an unexpectedly smug look on his face, th
e cause of which struck Frank hard. He ran over to him and yelled over the thumping helicopter, “You fucking knew, didn’t you? You fucking bastard!”
Alaska nodded his head and smiled thinly, with mock indifference.
“You petty fucker! They could have had time to send other helicopters instead!”
Alaska shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, you’re the boss.”
Frank lunged at Alaska, wiping most of the smile off the man’s face with one solid blow of his gloved hand. The punch knocked Alaska backward onto the ground, and he lay stroking his chin in amazement. Another smile then came to replace the one that Frank had erased.
“Go ahead, McDaniels,” the I.C. said into his radio.
“Yeah, there’s no room to land the ten-man at the Willamette crew’s position. Got the five-man landing now. Over.”
The I.C stared bugeyed at his surroundings, which suddenly appeared sharply surreal. He brushed the maps of the other fires onto the floor and leaned over the map of the Devil’s Gulch fire. “Shiiit!” he screamed aloud. There it was! Drawn on the map were the dimensions of a helispot suitable for only a five-man ship! Why hadn’t he noticed it before! It was always his practice to double-check the work of others, it was his job! “Dammit!”
He took a deep breath. “Uh, copy that McDaniels. Can’t they enlarge it?”
“Nope, the saws are with the other group that split off and headed west.”
“Copy. What’s the chances of getting ‘em all out?” the I.C. asked in a calm voice, knowing he was being received with a great deal of attention over the entire District.
“Pilot reported that there was a firestorm building fast down there. It looks pretty bad from here, too. He said he didn’t think he could get another load out.”
The I.C. started exhaling in short bursts. He was actually facing a worst-case scenario. It shouldn’t be happening. But it was! “Copy that. Sinclair clear,” the I.C. said quickly. In a final act of futility, he immediately phoned the air tanker base and ordered the last tanker full of retardant to fly to Judgment Valley.
The firefighters remaining at the helispot stood motionless as they watched the ship carrying their comrades disappear. A retardant plane soon buzzed overhead, and they turned toward it hopefully, like shipwrecked sailors. It released a blood red trail in the sky that floated downward to spot both their clothes and their dismayed faces. The overhead sky then fell silent with the departure of the tanker. The firefighters looked in unison at the expanding smoke column with a sense of awe and fear. Giant sheets of flame flashed inside it, fed by gases trapped within, while jagged streaks of lightning traveled back and forth within the massive plume. Yet where they stood, there was an eerie calm; the wind had even stopped. The canyon was quickly cast into near total darkness, save for the huge, red, glowing conflagration that now dominated the darkness it created. Day had turned to night, and the forested paradise had become an unearthly hell.
The stillness was destroyed when the demanding column began sucking air into its center. The wind rushed past the firefighters’ backs and into the blaze like the water of a spent wave returning to sea, collecting itself. Minutes later, a stronger blast of air charged back at them from the direction of the fire. It had started; a firestorm had emerged from its cocoon. The powerful column soon began spitting giant horizontal whirlwinds out of its center. These pockets of air smashed through the forest and eventually into the small group. The winds increased rapidly until it seemed as if the vortices were joining to become one.
Everyone remaining, with the exception of Alaska, gathered close together in the center of the helispot as daylight was further eclipsed. They stood, frozen, as glowing embers streamed overhead like mortar shells and instantly ignited the hillside behind them. They soon leaned on each other to withstand the blasts of wind that approached forty miles an hour. They assumed crouching positions when the blasts increased to nearly sixty miles an hour.
Frank yelled into his radio in desperation. “Fast Horse! Frank!... Fast Horse! This is Frank!... Fast Horse! Answer! Please answer!”
There was no response.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” he screamed with all his might into the dark shuddering forest.
Out of the blackness, about two miles in the distance, there reared a huge, unruly head of flames. It rose to a couple hundred feet above the horizon to face the firefighters, tauntingly. It expanded laterally in size and began to undulate in a demonstration of its solid power before it ducked back down and let the rolling air drive it mercilessly through the doomed forest, in the direction of the terrorstricken firefighters.
“Let’s get in these potata bags!” Scott yelled, spurring the group to action. He dumped a canteen full of water over his head and let it saturate his shirt. Alice took note and did the same. Only three people nearby knew that these acts were in opposition to standard safety procedures: Julio, who was busy tightening the holding bands of his oversized gloves, Frank, who was looking past his fellow firefighters in exasperation, and Alaska, who silently smiled at the firefighters from a distance.
“Alaska, get over here in the center!” Frank screamed.
Alaska couldn’t hear Frank, but sensed the nature of his command. He walked over dutifully and dropped his head before joining the others in freeing their shelters from their cases.
Soon the firefighters lay side by side in a neat row, their feet facing the main body of fire, tools and packs scattered around their periphery. The surrounding flames from the spot fires were close enough to reflect on the silvery shelters. No words could be heard above the deafening roar of the approaching firestorm. The firefighters were forced into their own lonely minds to face the horror of their circumstances. They gripped their shelters with all the strength they could muster, but selfdoubt crept quickly into each dropped head. It became increasingly difficult to hold on to the shelters as they flapped violently. The wind began to approach an unfathomable velocity, and the accompanying blasts of some of the weaker trees being blown over shook the earth under them.
Frank tried to feel strong and confident, but couldn’t hold the feeling for any length of time. He tried to cry, but couldn’t. He yelled to Alice from under his shelter, but was not heard over the ominous noise. “I love you, Alice,” he whispered. He tried to calm himself as he held on with all his strength. He began to weep dryly. He wondered about Fast Horse. How could he have abandoned him like this? Fast Horse had to be dead! He just had to be. Fuck, they would all be dead! There was no way anyone could survive an encounter with such violence. The fire wasn’t even over them yet, and it was blistering hot!
Nothing could save them now.
Frank thought he heard Fast Horse’s voice. It had to be an illusion. But there it was again!
“All right! Lookin’ good!”
“Wirawee!” Julio yelled.
“You tell me, Julio! Or ask ol’ Diablo over there.” A deep, laughing voice boomed back at the peak of its range.
It really was Fast Horse! He’d come back! “Yeaaaaah!” Frank screamed triumphantly, and tears formed quickly in his eyes.
“Just a little one this time,” Fast Horse yelled calmly, as he made his way along the row comprising the remainder of his crew.
For the first time, all five felt that they were going to make it through the ordeal to come. Fast Horse was back, and nothing could defeat him. He was their leader. He was invincible.
Frank felt a tug on his shelter, testing if it was secure enough. “All right, Fast Horse!” he cried out.
“That you in there, College Boy?”
“Sure as hell is!” Frank yelled, and beamed at the dirt. He then turned his face and lifted a corner of his shelter slightly to get a look at his hero. He blinked his eyes hard, to clear the dust that had instantly blown into them. What he first noticed in the broiling, spark-streaked darkness was the familiar bright white smile angling down at him. Fast
Horse’s animated eyes held their usual twinkle, and shined as if they were beacons to the captain of a lost boat. Frank beamed back at him gleefully before freezing his expression. Something about the appearance of the lips around the smile made Frank scrutinize other features. His eyes widened in terror, and then his heart jumped within his stiffened body. The man who was Fast Horse had almost no hair, while his face was as black as charred earth, swollen to almost twice its normal size. Frank buried his head in the dirt and began to tremble.
“Good thing I wasn’t wearing my tigerstriped underwear, huh there, College Boy?”
“Good thing,” Frank tried to yell back, but his words stuck in his throat and quietly rolled out onto the ground. He looked back up at his hero with compassion as tears formed in his eyes. Fast Horse leaned down and pulled the shelter back over Frank.
Frank then felt the earth shake with a nearby object’s heavy fall.
A quick blast of wind yanked at the shelters as the first violent surge of searing heat enveloped the firefighters. Alaska couldn’t get a corner of his shelter to stay tucked under him. He screamed with rage and started to stand to readjust it. He then shrieked in terror as his body was tossed into the trees like a windblown leaf. His next cry was one of agony as he was engulfed in crackling redness.
Chapter 23
A squirrel’s twitching nose poked out of an opening in the rocks to sample the early morning air. The danger had passed. The animal let out a few rhythmic cries that went unanswered, then clambered to the top of a higher rock to continue its plaintive call. A bright yellow rounded object slowly rose from beneath the animal, causing it to cry an alarm and scamper noisily across the gray, barren land.
When a Fire Burns Hot Page 36
