Edge of the Heat (Westwood Harbor Corruption)

by Ladew, Lisa

  He held out his hand. It shook. She gave him the bottle and ran outside with her gear, searching the ground.

  There were no sticks long enough to do the job. She eyed the trees closest to her for branches low and thin enough that she could break them.

  That one would work. It’s lowest branch was about 4 feet above her head, and only an inch thick. She ran to it and jumped with all her strength, missing by inches. Damn. She circled below it and looked for another. Not seeing any she decided to try again. This time she dropped her belt to the ground first.

  She backed up farther and jumped, catching hold with both hands. The branch cracked immediately and she fell to the ground. The stick was about 10 feet long - it would have to do. Now to find another. She picked up her belt and pickaxe and started looking.

  She walked towards the fire three feet and got lucky. A small tree, barely more than a sapling, already bending at an angle, but close to 10 feet long. She thrust her weight against it and it gave, falling mostly over. She put her foot on it and chopped the base with her pickaxe until it was free.

  She ran back to the building with her two sticks. Her world had narrowed to the job and she was barely aware of the fire eating the brush within a few feet to her left. The sweat poured off of her.

  She needed one more stick - actually she needed 4 or 5 more sticks but she only had time for one more stick. She prayed the night stayed calm. Just one tiny gust of wind towards her and the fire would be upon them. She coughed at the smoke burning her lungs. She pulled up her kerchief over her mouth and set to work.

  She found one more stick about 4 feet long and positioned her sticks: the two long ones parallel to each other and about 3 feet apart with the third stick crossing them near one end. She had duct tape and she got it out quickly, willing her hands to work faster.

  A spark jumped onto her sleeve and she smelled fabric burning. Her sleeve was on fire! She beat it out absentmindedly with her other hand and wrapped tape around where the sticks connected, over and over.

  She felt a sharp pain in her head and smelled hair burning. Damn. She beat her head with her hand and looked around wildly. The fire had her surrounded. It was everywhere. The roof of the hunting shack was smoking.

  She worked faster, winding the tape around the junctions. She had to be able to move this man far and fast.

  There! That had to be good enough. She grabbed all of her ace bandages and wrapped them loosely around the sticks making a platform or bed between the parallel sticks.

  This had to work. The skin on her neck was blistering from the heat. She tied knots and went over it all one more time with duct tape at the same time as she dug a circle in the brush around her with her booted foot, trying to keep the fire off of her. She said a prayer to God. Please help us find our way and make it out before we burn. Amen.

  She dragged her sled into the shack and found the man unconscious again, her water spilled on the ground. She positioned the sled to one side of him and got on the other side. She pulled the clothing at his shoulder and hip towards her, lifting his back off the ground. He was heavy, but she was desperate. He felt like a feather.

  She pulled the sled under him and laid him down on it. No time to be gentle. The walls were smoking now, and the roof was actually burning. Time to get out of here.

  Emma didn’t have room to turn the sled around so she had to drag it by the wrong end. Please God, Please God, she chanted in her head.

  She got it fully out, and ran around to the front, stepping inside the one stick she had taped to the two others, praying that everything would hold. She lifted her end and started forward, pawing her feet into the ground like a mule.

  Yes! Everything was holding together. They were moving. Now which way? She looked back the way she had come. Fire. But everywhere she looked there was fire! Her only hope was to head towards the road, not further into the forest and not parallel to the road. They would have to go through the fire and hopefully come out the other side.

  She dragged him through the fire. It was slow going. Her boots protected her feet. She wondered if duct tape was flammable. She looked back and saw everything looked good, for now. He was still unconscious, but he wasn’t sliding off the sled and he wasn’t on fire, so that was as good as she could have hoped for.

  Fire pushed in from all sides, even above them. He let out a yelp and she looked backwards. A burning branch had fallen on his face. She slapped it off with one hand, still moving. Her lungs were burning. A wracking cough hit her, but still she pushed the sled. They were dead if she stopped.

  The air cooled a bit. She sucked in great lung-fulls of fresher air. She looked around - the fire was still pressing in on them from all sides, but she thought it looked darker up ahead. Yes! They were going to make it!

  She dug in harder and pulled them faster. He groaned from the back. She looked and his legs were dragging on the ground. She would have to stop soon and pull him up higher on the sled.

  She kept going.

  She needed to stop and check her compass, but she just didn’t have the time. She hoped they weren’t too far off course. The fire was falling away little by little, but it was still close enough that a small gust of wind could whirl it around them in an instant. Her blood pounded in her ears.

  She tried to push harder but she was coming up on the edge of the reserves of her strength. Pretty soon, she’d be going on nothing but willpower.

  She heard a crack behind her. Gunshot? No, a tree falling. She peeked back and saw it. A monster tree, at least 6 feet around, and it was falling their way. Panic shot through her chest, giving her energy. She dug in and pushed harder. It fell against another tree and smashed all the branches down one side of that tree as it fell. Emma heard every branch pop one after another. She hoped that second tree was solid and not going to fall too. This was an old forest and there hadn’t been a fire up here for decades.

  She heard a wild creaking. Oh man that second tree was going too. If it came her way she was in trouble. She heard the creaks and groans and a final loud ripping sound as it’s roots ripped out of the ground. She pushed as hard and as fast as she could, ducking her head.

  The tree crashed to the ground three feet to her right and one of the branches caught her in the back, forcing a startled shriek from her throat and pinning her to the ground. As she fell she thought I’m Sorry to the man she was trying to help. Her head hit the ground hard. The forest went dark.

  Chapter 19.

  Craig drove up the winding mountain road to the Crystal Creek Wildfire watching the stars through his windshield. There were so many to see up here. He was late, coming in at least an hour behind most of the crew, but he had only just gotten this assignment. Apparently 4 firefighters had been hurt as soon as they got there tonight and had to be evac-ed out and more bodies were needed. This wasn’t the kind of job Hawk wanted him doing, but Craig was glad to be assigned. He really enjoyed firefighting. Maybe someday he’d quit the FBI and be a firefighter for real. He didn’t want to still be working dangerous undercover jobs when he had kids.

  The thought of kids made him think of Emma and her letter. He still hadn’t called her. He wanted to but his brain was holding him back. Some hurt, teenage, angsty part of him was still mad that she had rejected him and asked out his friend in front of him. Quit being a baby. She explained that decision in her letter. Everyone makes mistakes, he chastised himself. Yeah, he was making a big one right now by ignoring her. She was simply the most amazing woman he’d ever met, and he was playing some stupid game with her.

  He knew he was going to need to make a once and for all decision soon, and either get over this completely, or go the other way and reject her. The thought of telling her he didn’t want to see her anymore made his mouth dry and his stomach hurt. But still his brain wouldn’t let him swallow his pride and fully forgive her. He sighed. God he was an idiot.

  Thank God Frankie had saved him from killing Norman back at the bay. If he had done what he wanted to do to No
rman, he’d be in jail right now, his cover would be blown, Hawk’s cover would probably be blown, and they would have had to start back at square one. God but Norman was just the worst kind of man - scratch that. Norman wasn’t a man, he was a weasel. Craig still remembered his weasel face, pinched and angry saying “next time your friends won’t be around to save your ass,” before he got in his car and sped off.

  Craig’s thoughts were pulled back to the here and now by a blast of hot air dumping in through the truck window. Now the air felt 15 degrees hotter in an instant. He sniffed and looked around. The smoke smell was stronger here, and he could see a glow off to the south. It looked like the fire was only 15 feet away in the woods. Time to get serious about the job at hand so he didn’t get hurt. He’d give his brain 1 more day to sleep on the Emma situation and then he was making some hard and fast decisions. She deserved that much.

  He drove in silence, trying to remember what he’d been taught in training about fighting wildfires. Ahead, the swirling lights of a fire vehicle made him think he had made it to the scene. But it was too soon. What the heck?

  As he came across the vehicle, it was a tanker, empty, off, and with lights flashing, just sitting in the road. He parked his truck behind it, got out and called “Hello? Anybody here?”

  How strange. He got on the radio in his truck and tried to call the scene commander but got no answer. He heard the radio in the tanker crackle. He walked over to the tanker. The mic was on the drivers seat and dispatch was calling. “Firefighter 238, Firefighter 238, answer please.” The voice was strained with worry.

  A bolt of worry shot through Craig, making his head hurt. That was Emma’s badge number! He grabbed the mic. “This is Firefighter 465, I am at an abandoned tanker truck in the middle of the road. What is going on?”

  “Firefighter 465, FF 238 heard screaming from the woods almost 30 minutes ago at that location, on the south side of the road. She hasn’t answered since. We don’t know where she is. No one has been able to break away from the wildfire scene yet to check on her.”

  Craig’s stomach lurched and the hand holding the mic shook. “I’m going in Central, send us some backup. I have a handheld let me test it.”

  He tried his handheld radio. “Central FF 465 10-18” Nothing. He tried again.

  “You are scratchy and faint, but I can hear you 465,” came the reply, but Craig could only hear it from the truck, not from his handheld. Oh well, it would have to do. He as going in no matter what. He started off at a jog towards the south, but stopped short. As an afterthought he ran back to his small truck and rummaged around under the seat till he found the flare gun. Just in case.

  He ran into the woods at a breakneck speed, not even feeling the branches smacking him in the face. Every step brought hotter air, like he was running into a blast furnace? Emma was in here? How could she survive in this? He spotted orange tape around a tree. His heart surged with admiration for her; she was always so prepared and so careful. His throat clenched at the thought of his sweet Emma pausing long enough to wrap tape around this tree. Emma please, just be OK. I forgive you. Please forgive me for being such a jerk. Please be OK. I need you. I’m so sorry.

  Just like that, every hurt feeling he had felt, every bad thought that had flashed through his mind was gone, burnt up like fire in his worry and panic. He would do anything to see her OK again. When he found her he would fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness. Just please God let her be OK.

  In a flash he understood everything. He knew how desperation had made her do something outside of her character and that she didn’t really mean to do it. She thought it was the way to her future happiness. He knew right now that she was the way to his future happiness. He prayed inside his head that he would get a chance to tell her.

  He ran faster.

  The forest around him was no longer green, everything was orange and hot, like an oven. He had run right into the fire without even realizing it. The hot air tore at his throat. He pulled up short and looked around. 4 feet ahead to his left was tape around a tree, burning brightly. Emma’s tape.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in denial. Opened them again. Nothing had changed. The skin on his face felt and smelled like it was burning. He walked backwards 20 feet, just out of this part of the fire to find some cooler ground. He dug down in the dirt and smeared it on his face and hair, hoping to protect them from the fire.

  He looked at the fire in front of him again and shook his head. No. She couldn’t survive in that. Unless she had dug a hole? Or deployed her shelter? His mind grasped at straws - she had to be alive - had to!

  Think damnit think! Should he go in? He’d likely burn up within 50 feet. He should be turning around and running for the road right now.

  He had his fire shelter. He could wrap it around him and just run. No, he’d run out of air. He could try to go around the fire to the other side. Maybe she was holed up somewhere and needed help.

  He heard something to his left. A cracking, straining, ripping sound. A tree falling. More cracking. A shriek. A woman’s scream, then cut off abruptly. His head jerked around, his ears straining. That had to be Emma!

  He took off at a run, flanking the front edge of the fire. His mind filled only with the need to get to her before the fire did.

  His legs pumped relentlessly. He willed his lungs to use the air and his throat not to cough. He hurdled downed trees like they were lincoln logs.

  There, he saw the big tree that had just fallen. He ran to it and jumped on top of it, straining to see in the meager light. He looked around in a 360 but saw nothing. He pulled out his flashlight and walked along the trunk of the tree, sweeping first one side and then the other.

  A flash of orange caught his eye. Her coat! His heart leaped in his chest. She was so still, laying on the ground. “Emma!”

  He ran to her, pushing through sticks and branches. She was caught under the branches from the tree that had fallen, her face to the ground. There was a man laying right behind her on his back. A hunter from the looks of it, with a bandaged leg. With a might yank and a roar ripping from his mouth he broke the branches from the tree that were covering the two people and tossed them to the side. He had them free.

  He slipped off his gloves and checked the hunter’s pulse first, scared to check Emma’s. Thready, barely there. This man was in trouble. Emma had him on some sort of a sled and had been pulling him to the road.

  “Central, FF 465, send me a chopper. I need medical evac,” he yelled into his radio.

  “Oh honey, you gotta be OK,” he whispered, putting his fingers to her throat. Strong and regular, her pulse spoke to him, told him she was going to live, if he could just get her out of here. “Oh God,” he choked, a sob building in his chest.

  “Emma honey, you hold on, my brave warrior, I am gonna get you out of here.”

  Craig looked backwards at the fire behind them. It was closing in. They were in an oven and within a few minutes, they would be engulfed in flames. He had to get these two people out of here and fast. He shouted into the radio again “Central, FF 465, I need two choppers, send them to the tanker 3 miles west of the scene on Crystal Creek Road. I can’t hear you on my radio but get those birds in the air! I have two patients here, one certainly critical, the other possibly critical.

  Craig looked around again and knew what he had to do. There was no choice. He said a little prayer for Emma’s spine and prayed she would be OK when he moved her.

  Then he rolled her over. She was unconscious, her eyes and mouth slack. Her forehead and left eye were purple and swollen where they had hit a rock partially buried in the dirt. His heart rolled over at the thought of his lovely Emma hurt, unconscious, in pain.

  He hoisted her into a sitting position and picked her up under arms, gently placing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He stepped inside the sled she had made and lifted the handle, bracing it against his midsection so he could steady her with both hands and not jostle her too much.

  He
pushed forward, feeling the weight of the sled behind him. Admiration filled him at what she had made, and what she had done. This woman was amazing. He wanted her to love him, he wanted her to be all his.

  He pushed them out of there, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He had to make it to the road. There they would be safe. Even if the fire reached the road and jumped the road, they could hole up in the tanker if they had to.

  Craig pushed and prayed and when he reached the road he thought his desperate mind was playing tricks on him at first. No, there it was. He said a little prayer of thanks and pulled them up the embankment.

  He could hear the chopper coming up the mountain. Relief flooded him. He laid Emma down as gently as he could on the asphalt and dropped the sled. He grabbed the flare gun from his pocket and shot a flare straight up. That should help.

  He knelt next to Emma and checked her pulse again. Still there. Still strong. He went to the man on the sled, he still had a pulse too, but his face was ashen. He had to go first. As much as he would have liked to have gotten Emma on the first bird, he knew the right thing to do was send this man first.

  The helicopter came into view. Craig ran to the truck and got more flares, marking a landing pad, then he ran back to his patients to protect them from the buffeting winds as the helicopter set down. The fire had reached the embankment, and the hot winds carried ashes and burning sticks.

  The medic jumped out with a board before the bird was all the way on the ground and ran over to him. Craig pointed to the man. “He’s got to go” he tried to yell, but only a small squeak came out. His throat was raw from breathing the scorching air and ashes.

  The medic put the board on the ground next to the hunter and they transferred him onto it, strapping him down. Craig didn’t want to leave Emma but he had to, to help the medic get the man on board. They carried him swiftly, bending to get safely under the blades.

  Craig turned around and ran back as the helicopter lifted off. Emma! He didn’t see her right away. The ground where he had left her was empty. Panic ripped through him again, blacking his vision.