“I mean, what’s up with Dev?”
“Oh, he’s good.” Matt fumbled for something to say.
Scout wandered over with the stick in his mouth. He plopped down at Matt’s feet, put one paw over the stick to hold it in place, and began to gnaw on the other end with great focus. As he chewed, Matt and his dad got to work shoveling dirt.
After a few minutes, Matt paused to check his phone again.
“Dev still good?” his dad asked.
Matt stuffed the phone back in his pocket.
“Yep.” Matt smiled uncertainly. Why did he feel like his dad was reading his mind?
They worked in silence for a little longer. Matt’s dad looked over at his son.
“On a scale of so-so to excellent, just how good is Dev right now?” his dad asked casually.
“Excellent!” Matt said too loudly.
“I may have been deployed for a long time,” his dad replied, “but I still know you, Matt. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”
Matt didn’t answer. He shoveled. His dad went back to scooping mulch with the trowel and started to whistle.
Matt’s guilt was slowly filling up his whole brain, blocking out all other thought. He knew he was keeping a secret that could have serious consequences.
“Uh, Dad?”
His dad kept his eyes on his work. “Yeah, Matt-o?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
His dad stopped working and looked up at Matt. “I promise I’ll do my best.”
Matt looked nervously down at the ground, then over his dad’s shoulder. The words piled up in his head, ready to spill over. Finally he looked his dad in the eye, and—as hard as it was to get the first sentence out—he began to speak.
“It’s Dev and Amaiya and our other friend Curtis—they made me promise not to tell anyone . . .” Matt trailed off.
His dad raised an eyebrow, waiting silently for Matt to go on.
Matt swallowed. “Well, um. They went for a hike up Mount Kit . . .”
“Mount Kit?” His dad thought for a second. “That the one that’s—”
“Just south of the wildfire,” Matt finished.
“Okay.” His dad absorbed the information calmly. “And why didn’t they want you to tell anyone where they were?”
Matt looked down at the ground again. “Because Mount Kit is a really hard hike, and they probably shouldn’t have been doing it on their own. But they really wanted to go, and Dev said he’d climbed it a hundred times before. They said they could handle it, but . . .”
“But what, Matt? Go on.”
“But if they could handle it, then I don’t know why they couldn’t tell their parents they were going . . . Know what I mean?” Matt didn’t tell his dad that he was upset with Dev and Amaiya for putting him in this position—that he’d started to question what kind of friends they were. That was something he still couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.
His dad tossed the trowel into the loose soil at their feet. Matt could see the intensity in his bright blue eyes.
“Tell me everything they told you, Matt. Word for word.”
Matt took a deep breath and recounted every detail he could remember. He told his dad that Dev, Amaiya, and Curtis were planning to climb the southern face of Mount Kit and head to a hidden climbing spot. He told his dad about the steep hike, the waterfall, the overhang—and how they would need to go off the trail and into the brush. Finally, Matt told him about the text from Dev that morning—and that he’d tried to reply, but his text wasn’t going through.
“There’s a chance the fire’s not even close to them and they’re totally fine,” Matt went on. “But Mom said it could change direction at any moment. And if it does, they”—Matt faltered—“they won’t know it’s coming.”
“Is that all?” his dad asked. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
Matt shook his head. He was relieved to have gotten the whole story off his chest—he hadn’t fully realized just how hard it was to carry that weight around alone.
But at the same time, hearing the words out loud brought the seriousness of the situation crashing down on him.
Dev, Amaiya, and Curtis were in real danger.
And he should have said something sooner. Didn’t every second count?
Matt squirmed, his insides feeling like a gazillion nerve endings tingling all at once. His dad stared up at the sky, his face dead serious. Matt could tell that he was thinking hard and fast, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation.
After a moment, his dad shook his head and let out a tsk. He kicked at the pile of mulch at their feet, sending a spray of wood chips sailing across the yard. Finally he looked at Matt, and Matt was relieved to see a glimmer of compassion in his dad’s stern expression. “There are many parts of this story that we will be discussing further, Matt. But right now, we’re going to focus on getting your friends back safely.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“First things first.” Matt’s dad pulled out his phone. “You said they were near a waterfall, right?”
Matt nodded. His dad tapped a few things into a map app and studied it carefully, swiping at the screen a couple of times.
“You said they were on the southern face, right?”
“Yes.”
“Right now, the fire is on the ridge to their north.” His dad’s voice had the sharp, firm cadence of a soldier. “Based on what I can tell from the location of the waterfall, they should be fine—”
Matt let out a gasp of relief.
“—if we get to them quickly enough, that is. It’s dry up there and they should not be on that mountain alone.” His dad looked around at the still-unfinished yard. “This can wait. Let’s go get them. Scout too. Suit up, boys.”
As his dad’s words sank in, Matt was overwhelmed with appreciation—and with adrenaline. They made a great team—Matt, his dad, and Scout—but that wouldn’t mean anything if they didn’t get to Mount Kit fast. If conditions changed on the mountain . . . Matt shuddered at the thought. They had no choice: They had to get there before that happened.
“Scout, come!” Scout zipped to Matt’s side, and they ran into the house together. In the mudroom, Matt jammed his feet into his hiking boots, ready to bolt out the door immediately. He frantically laced them up—why weren’t his fingers working? As Matt fumbled with the laces, Scout sat down by Matt’s knee and looked up at him, waiting for his command.
“You’re coming too, buddy,” Matt said. “Let’s get your vest.”
Matt took Scout’s official National Guard K-9 unit vest from the coatrack near the front door. His mom always kept it at the ready—she never knew when she and Scout could be called out on a job. Matt slipped it over Scout’s head, buckled it snugly under his chest, and stepped back to look at his dog.
Scout sat perfectly still, with his front paws touching and his head held high. It was as if his senses had been cranked up to the highest setting—his ears were cocked, his eyes were bright—even his fur seemed to stand a little taller.
Scout was ready.
Matt’s dad stepped into the room, and Matt gestured at Scout. “We’re ready, Dad.”
His dad held up a hand. “Whoa, Matt. Slow down. We’re going to get up there as fast as we can, but we can’t just run up the side of a mountain with no supplies. Let’s put together a pack. Have a plan, Matt. Always have a plan—”
“So you have something to laugh about when it falls apart,” Matt finished. It was one of his dad’s many sayings—and one that usually made Matt roll his eyes pretty hard. Matt was more of an act now, think later kind of person, but this time, for the first time, he thought he got what his dad meant. Assume things will go wrong, his dad was saying, because when you’re prepared, you can handle anything.
Matt scrambled to his feet and looked around the mudroom for his backpack. “We’ll need water and some protein bars. And bear spray. And a flashlight just in case.”
His dad no
dded. “Good. Grab those Mylar blankets we have in the camping kit, would you? And a lighter or some camping matches. Remember it gets cold up there when the sun goes down.”
“Right. I need a sweatshirt. Food and treats for Scout too,” Matt said, adding them to his mental list.
“I’ll get the walkie-talkies,” his dad said.
Matt’s dad filled water bottles while Matt stuffed his backpack to the brim. His brain was whirring fast, but he forced himself to slow down, take his time, and check off each item as he went. Always have a plan.
Scout jammed his nose into the open backpack, snuffling at its contents. Matt watched him for a second before an idea popped into his head. “Thanks, Scout!” Matt said, running past the dog and up the stairs to his bedroom. He whipped open his closet door and rummaged around on the floor.
There it is!
Matt emerged from the closet with a nylon-strapped climbing harness in his fist. He ran back downstairs to find his dad on the phone with his mom.
“Okay, hon,” his dad was saying. “We’ll be fine. Copy that. If you don’t hear from us by nightfall, send someone in. Love you too.” He clicked off the call. “What do you have there?” he asked Matt, pointing to the harness in his hand.
“It’s Dev’s,” Matt said. “I thought we might need it—well, Scout might need it.”
Scout’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name. Matt’s dad looked confused for a second; then he opened his eyes wide with understanding.
“For a scent item?”
“Exactly,” Matt said. “For a scent item.”
“Great idea.” Matt’s dad put his hands on his hips and looked from Matt to Scout and back again. “You ready to move out?”
Matt put a hand on Scout’s head. Scout leaned into Matt’s leg and looked up at him.
“Yeah,” Matt said, “we’re ready.”
7
AS THEY SPED TOWARD MOUNT KIT, Matt ran his eyes over the curves and angles of the mountains in the distance. Their tall faces were spotted with olive green trees, tawny streaks of dirt, and dark strips of shadow. The peaks looked majestic and serene—but Matt had spent enough time in nature to know that even the most beautiful things could turn dangerous in an instant.
In the quiet of the car, Matt felt sure he’d made the right decision to tell his dad about his friends. There was nothing more important than making sure Dev, Amaiya, and Curtis were safe, and he was willing to accept the consequences of his choice.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friends would see it the same way.
“You need to tell their parents, don’t you?” Matt asked, though he already knew the answer.
His dad stared out the windshield and let out a long, slow exhale. “Yes, Matt. I do.”
Matt swallowed hard. “I understand.” He rested his head against the window and let the blur of desert scenery flash by.
“But this isn’t about whether or not anyone gets in trouble, buddy. It’s about something bigger.”
Matt didn’t say anything.
“It’s about knowing what’s right,” his dad went on. “But more important, it’s about knowing when to act on what’s right.” He glanced over at Matt. “When I’m in combat, it’s easy to know that the stakes are really high. But you know better than anyone that the stakes can be pretty high anytime—like today, or the day the flood hit. So the rules apply no matter what the situation.”
Matt let his dad’s words sink in. Scout sat up in the back seat and stuck his nose out the open window. He panted into the wind, his ears twitching against his head.
“I know it’s not easy, Matt. It means you have to learn to trust your gut in a whole new way. Your mom and I still train every day to hone our instincts.” His dad’s voice softened. “And a lot of the time, taking action means making an unpopular choice. I know that can be really tough.”
Matt considered his dad’s words carefully.
“Do you understand?”
Matt lifted his head from the window. “I think so. You’re saying that I should have told you sooner. Even if my friends were going to be mad at me.”
His dad didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
“But what happens after?” Matt asked. “I mean, just because you do the right thing doesn’t make people magically not pissed at you.”
His dad reached over and put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “That’s true. And sometimes we just have to live with that.”
Matt dropped his head back onto the window. I don’t know, he thought. It’s easy to live with soldiers being mad at you. But what about your friends—your only friends?
“Let me ask you this,” his dad said, interrupting his thoughts. “Would you rather take the risk that someone will be mad at you in order to save their life? Or would you rather let your worry stop you from even trying?”
It was an easy question to answer. “Take the risk,” Matt said.
“Okay. So once you’ve decided to take the risk, does the guilt that’s eating you up serve any purpose?”
Matt shook his head.
“Right. So now you focus on what?”
This was another of his dad’s favorite sayings. Focus on solutions. “Solutions,” Matt said.
“Solutions. Solutions are the best way to make up for something you didn’t do right the first time. The best you can do is do your best to fix it.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Dad?” Matt said. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“How do you know—I mean—what if you’re not sure if someone is really a good friend?”
“That’s a tough one, Matt-o.” His dad thought for a second. “I think we have to let people show us who they really are. They . . . leave clues, I guess you could say, with the way they act and how they treat us. If you pay attention, you can add it up.”
“Okay.” It made sense, but Matt wasn’t sure how it worked if lots of little clues said one thing, but one big clue said something else entirely.
“But,” his dad added, “that doesn’t mean a good friend is a perfect person. We all make mistakes.”
Just then, they pulled up to the Mount Kit trailhead. Matt hopped out the second his dad parked on the side of the road, and Scout scrambled out onto the dirt after him. The dog’s vest and collar tags gleamed in the late-morning sunlight.
Scout stood calmly, his head held high and his ears perked up. Matt knew he was tuning in to the frequencies of hawks overhead, woodpeckers tapping on trees, lizards under rocks, and dried leaves rustling in the hot breeze. The dog’s nose twitched and Matt inhaled deeply, trying to smell what Scout smelled.
There was the usual scent of pine and juniper trees and sagebrush in bloom. But today, their fragrance was tinged with the faint odor of smoke—the distinct woodsy, charred scent of a wildfire. Matt studied the sky above them and ran his eyes up the side of Mount Kit to the rocky summit that loomed over them.
But they had a long way to go before they got there.
Up close, Matt could see that Mount Kit was steep, tangled, tough terrain, studded with trees, spiky shrubs, and tall brush. Jagged boulders of every size punched through the earth at all angles. They ranged from low rocks to small outcroppings to stacks of stones as big as cars, soaring three stories high. It was going to be a long, hard hike.
Orienting himself, Matt turned northward and peered through a stand of juniper trees. Across a narrow valley, a thin plume of smoke rose from the next peak over and twisted into the sky.
The fire.
They needed to get going.
Matt slipped his phone from his pocket and checked it again. Still nothing from Dev or Amaiya.
He texted them both: Coming to find you. Mountain isn’t safe.
But the message wouldn’t go through.
Scout danced around Matt, ready to go. Matt threw his pack on the ground and ripped it open. He yanked Dev’s climbing harness out. “Scout, sit.”
He held the h
arness out for Scout. The dog sniffed at it, running his nose up and down the nylon straps, along its buckles and seams.
The dog looked at Matt, an impatient, excited gleam in his eye.
Scout was ready. He was just waiting for Matt’s command.
“You ready, Dad?” Matt asked.
“All set.”
Matt looked back down at Scout and took a deep breath. He knew that once he gave the command, Scout wouldn’t stop until he found what he was looking for. That meant Matt and his dad had to be ready to follow him—and to keep up.
Matt exhaled and shook out his arms. “Scout, search!”
Scout shot off, charging up the trail ahead of them, his nose skimming the ground. Matt and his dad hustled after him.
The trail zigzagged across the mountain. Within minutes, the heat started to bear down on Matt and his dad. Matt wiped his brow and took a sip of his water, then poured some into his hand for Scout, who lapped it up and got right back to leading the way.
As they huffed along, Matt snuck a look at his dad. He saw that his dad’s jaw was set, and he was sweeping his eyes across the landscape, from left to right and top to bottom, then back again. His dad was taking in their surroundings, observing and assessing the situation—just like he’d been trained to do.
Matt knew his parents were always on alert—not just when they were working, but also at restaurants, the mall, even kids’ birthday parties. It was a skill they would never unlearn, a habit they could never break. And now Matt was starting to understand why—he could see how paying attention helps you find solutions.
Matt made a promise to himself that he would always try to do the same.
Scout’s head shot up and he froze mid-step, his left front paw hanging in the air. Matt and his dad stopped too. They watched as Scout’s right ear spun forward on his head, while his left ear twitched backward. It was Scout’s signature move—what he always did when he sensed something wasn’t quite right.
But what was he sensing now?
When the last echo of their footsteps died out, the air was still. Matt’s ears tuned into the symphony of tweets and chirps and calls and tiny claws rooting through the dirt. Scout’s muscles were flexed, his neck straight and his ears frozen, radar-like, in position. His eyes flicked from one spot to another.
Firefighter Page 4
