Firefighter

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  What if they couldn’t find the overhang Dev had described?

  But there was one thing that helped him put one foot in front of the other: Scout.

  Matt trusted Scout, and Scout was tracking carefully, intently, as if he was still locked on to Dev’s scent. He trotted steadily along, his nose skimming the ground and his ears flicking this way and that. His tail stuck straight out behind him, curling up at the tip, like a rocket booster propelling him forward. Every so often, he angled his snout upward and bobbed his head, catching smells floating on the breeze.

  “Oof!” Matt tripped over a large loose rock on the path. He caught himself before he hit the ground.

  “Watch out, buddy.” Matt’s dad gestured at the narrow, rock-strewn trail. “It’s getting rough up here.” He pointed to the edge of the path, where it fell away at a sharp angle down the side of the mountain. “And that is a painful way back to the bottom.”

  “Got it,” Matt said, eyeing the drop-off no more than a yard from where he had just stumbled.

  Matt counted the rhythm of their footsteps, using it to pace himself and push upward and onward, always onward. The strengthening wind rushed past his ears, turning into white noise.

  They continued on, the trail starting to slope sideways as they went. They fell into single file, with Scout in the lead, then Matt, then his dad bringing up the rear. As the smoke swirled and dusk continued to fall around them, Matt began to feel like they had been dropped on another planet—the peak above them, the rounded boulders and piles of rocks, were like a moonscape or the surface of Mars.

  Matt tasted smoke and shut his eyes to stop them from burning. He was starting to get a little delirious, and he shook his head to clear it. Just then, the trail led them around a large boulder, and that’s when he saw it, twenty yards ahead, off to their right: the overhang. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as they adjusted to the dimming light, he saw it clearly, unmistakably—a wide, flat expanse of rock that jutted out from the side of the mountain like an awning.

  “Dad! There!” He pointed. Excitement replaced Matt’s exhaustion and worry.

  “That’s it, Matt-o! Lead the way—and hustle.”

  With a new burst of energy in his tired legs, Matt took off running with Scout ahead of him. They hopped off the trail and barreled onto the tough terrain. The land was uneven and steep, dotted with huge boulders and smaller rock piles, spiky shrubs and dried brush as tall as Matt. But Matt didn’t feel the scratches and scrapes on his legs, didn’t notice the branches whipping him across the cheek. When he stumbled, he caught himself and kept barreling forward.

  The last bit of daylight was disappearing fast. There was a flashlight in his pack, but Matt didn’t want to stop moving long enough to dig it out.

  They had come so far, and they were so close to finding his friends.

  Finally.

  Matt followed the glow-in-the-dark patches on Scout’s vest, which bobbed and bounced as Scout ran and sniffed the ground.

  Matt felt a burst of hope. Scout still had Dev’s scent.

  He pushed himself to run even faster. His dad was close behind him.

  They were just steps from the overhang when Matt heard a loud cry of pain and a sickening crunch echo off the rocks behind him. He spun around just in time to see his dad fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

  “Dad!” Matt screamed, racing over to him. Scout passed by in a blur, his legs pumping and his tail flying out behind him. Scout reached Matt’s dad first.

  Fear and adrenaline spread through Matt’s limbs, making his fingertips go numb. His dad lay on his side, with one knee bent—and his foot jammed between two toaster-size rocks.

  Matt dropped to his knees. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” his dad said, wincing in pain. “My foot got stuck, that’s all. But I can’t get it out.”

  Scout pawed frantically at the ground near Matt’s dad’s foot and whined in desperation.

  “What is it, buddy?” Matt asked. He pulled his flashlight out of his pack and shined it toward Scout.

  In the beam of light, Matt saw that his dad’s foot disappeared up to the ankle into the narrow space between the rocks. It was so narrow, in fact, that Matt couldn’t believe the wide hiking boot had fit there in the first place—and he could tell that there was no way to get it out easily.

  Matt’s eyes fell on his dad’s ankle, above the boot, and he cringed. It was already purple and blue and swollen to the size of a baseball.

  “How bad is it?” his dad asked.

  “It’s not too bad . . .” Matt figured it was okay to fudge the truth a little in a situation like this.

  Scout was going nuts, barking and whimpering. He scratched at the dirt, digging up twigs and flinging pebbles about. A cloud of dust rose up around his face. Every strand of fur on his body stood on end, and his eyes burned with the ferocity of a predator. Every few seconds, Scout stopped clawing and stared at the earth as if it were alive.

  A low growl vibrated in his throat. He was acting so strange—almost like he had when they’d seen the bear . . .

  Matt and his dad realized what was happening at exactly the same moment.

  “It’s a snake hole!” Matt’s dad cried, pushing himself up on his elbows with a pained grimace. He pulled on his calf, but his foot wouldn’t budge. He was stuck.

  “Scout, leave it!” Matt commanded. He needed Scout to stop digging before he unearthed a snake—which probably wouldn’t be too happy about having its home invaded by a human foot. Scout stopped, but he stayed crouched over the rocks, baring his teeth.

  Matt hopped to his feet and looked around frantically for something—anything—he could use to fend off an angry reptile. He snatched up a long, dried branch and raised it in the air over his head.

  Matt was ready to fight.

  He and his dad exchanged a look. “Can you take your boot off?” Matt asked.

  His dad shook his head. “I don’t want to expose my foot—the boot will protect me from a bite.”

  “Then we have to dig out,” Matt said. “But once the rocks are loose, you have to get your foot out of there as fast as you can.”

  His dad nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Matt took a long, slow breath and steadied himself. He tightened his grip on the stick in one hand and the flashlight in the other. “Okay, Scout—go!” he cried. Scout started digging with renewed vigor. Matt’s dad scooped up dirt with his hands.

  Together, he and Scout began to widen the space around his injured foot. Soon, the rocks that pinned his leg were slightly loose.

  Matt’s dad grabbed hold of one of the rocks and began to shimmy it back and forth, slowly prying it out of the ground. Matt waited, his whole body tensed and ready to bring the stick down on any venomous creatures that might emerge from the hole.

  Scout kept up his steady, frantic digging.

  The rock was moving, ever so slightly.

  “You ready, Matt?” his dad asked through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah.”

  “Three.” His dad pushed hard at the rock. It was starting to give. “Two.” He grunted with exertion. The rock was almost free. “One!” Matt’s dad leaned forward, and the rock popped out of the ground with a snap before rolling off to the side.

  Matt’s dad yanked his foot out of the hole and scooted backward in one smooth motion. Scout leaped out of the way. The dust cleared, and Matt spotted a flicker of slithering movement under the soil.

  They heard an unmistakable sound. A large tan-and-gray rattlesnake was coiled in the spot where the rock had just been. Its tail vibrated in the air.

  Scout barked wildly at the snake as Matt swung the stick down over his head. But he made contact only with dirt. The snake had unlooped itself and slithered back into its hole without a backward glance.

  It was gone.

  “Wow,” Matt’s dad said with a laugh and shake of his head. “Nice work, boys.”

  Matt threw the stick off to the si
de and shook out his hands. “You too,” he said. “Way to go, Scout.”

  But Scout wasn’t waiting around for a grateful scratch under the collar. He stiffened and raised his head. One ear rotated forward and the other backward, and his brow furrowed deeply as he locked his eyes on something in the distance. His fur stood on end again.

  Scout was alert, on guard against a new threat that Matt couldn’t hear or see. He stared up at the peak above them.

  “What is it, Scout?” With a hard lump in his throat, Matt followed the dog’s sight line up, up, up . . . to the very top of Mount Kit.

  Matt went cold.

  Black smoke twisted into the sky. Red flames danced on the rock.

  The peak was on fire.

  The fire had jumped the ridge.

  10

  “WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!” Matt cried. “Dad, can you get up?”

  Matt’s dad eyed the black smoke and hot orange flames on the summit, and the reality of their situation crossed his face. He pressed his lips into a grim line and nodded at Matt. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  He tried to stand up, and it was immediately clear that he was anything but fine. His face was sheet white and filled with pain. “Help me up, would you, Matt-o?”

  Matt eased his dad to his feet, as carefully—but quickly—as possible. He wrapped an arm around his dad’s waist to steady him. His dad put an arm over Matt’s shoulders, and for a terrifying second, he wobbled like a drunken boxer, hanging on to Matt for dear life. Matt wasn’t sure if he would topple over with his dad or buckle under his weight, but he somehow managed to keep them both upright.

  “Let’s do this,” his dad said.

  Matt couldn’t believe his dad’s determination. His dad had to be in excruciating pain. He sucked air through his teeth every time he jostled his injured ankle, but he acted like he was taking a Sunday stroll.

  Together, they teetered and hopped through the dark, back toward the trail. Scout stuck close to Matt’s dad’s other side, his head and ears up. He was listening, watching, scenting—protecting them. Every few minutes, Scout ran a few feet ahead, as if he were clearing the path for them, then zipped back over to them.

  Matt looked over his shoulder at the fire. “How quickly can a wildfire move?” he asked nervously.

  “Depends on the wind and how much there is to burn between here and there.” His dad gestured at the dry brush that covered the ground all around them. “My guess is we have an hour, max.”

  An hour. That wasn’t a lot of time—but it was better than nothing.

  Matt ran through his options, as few as they were.

  If Dev, Amaiya, and Curtis were still somewhere above them, the fire was coming right for them. Matt had to get to them, but there was no way his dad could make the final ascent. Before he could go after his friends, he had to get his dad somewhere safe. But where, exactly, was that?

  It was impossible. Matt needed to be everywhere at once. His brain was spinning, and he forced himself to slow it down and think clearly and calmly.

  Then he had it: The waterfall.

  “Just a little farther, Dad.”

  “Where are we going?” His dad was sweating from exertion and pain. His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists as he willed himself through it.

  “Back to the waterfall,” Matt said. “You can put your foot in the water to keep the swelling down.”

  Matt didn’t say the real reason out loud. He didn’t have to. They both knew that if the fire made it this far down the mountain, the water could protect them from the flames.

  The short journey felt like forever, but finally Matt heard the waterfall from around the bend. Sweaty and exhausted, they reached the clearing, and Matt led his dad to a large flat rock that protruded over the water’s edge. He helped his dad to the ground. With a grimace, his dad leaned back against another rock, gently slipped off his boot, and dropped his leg into the water. He let out a long, deep sigh. “That feels good.”

  Matt could tell his dad was trying to hide his pain. He was tough—a lifelong military man—and he didn’t slow down easily. His injury had to be pretty intense for him to sit down and stop right at the critical moment of a mission.

  Matt stood nearby, unable to calm down enough to sit. He looked up at the burning ridge and had to force himself to stand still when every instinct in his body told him to race up the mountain. Every second I stay here, safe and sound, is another second my friends are in danger.

  As if he felt the same way, Scout paced restlessly around the clearing, whining and barking up at the fire.

  “We’ll be safe here for now,” his dad said, scanning the sky. He pulled out his phone and shook his head. There was still no service. “Your mom was going to send her people in if she didn’t hear from us by nightfall. Her team will be coming soon . . . then they can go find your friends.”

  Matt looked away. “Okay.” His voice was calm, but inside, he was in turmoil. He felt pinned between two terrible options. He couldn’t bear to just sit here doing nothing. He wanted to go after his friends, but if he did, he’d have to leave his dad here alone.

  What if the fire came this far before Matt got back? Matt couldn’t put his dad in that kind of danger—could he?

  He’s a soldier. He can handle this. But my friends . . . they need my help.

  Matt studied his dad’s face. It was pale and clammy. His eyes were squeezed shut and he lay back on the rocks, his injured foot dangling in the water. It was almost as if he had kept himself together just long enough to get to a safe place, and now the real pain was kicking in.

  The day had been hot, but now the temperature was starting to drop. Matt shivered in his sweaty T-shirt. He saw that his dad’s arms were covered in goose bumps.

  Matt dug through his pack and pulled out a flat plastic package that held a Mylar thermal blanket—the kind used by rescue personnel or given out to runners after a marathon. He ripped open the packet, unfurled the metallic sheet, and draped it over his dad’s chest.

  “Thanks, buddy.” His dad pulled it tighter and shivered.

  Matt tugged his sweatshirt out too and slipped it on. He looked back at the top of the mountain.

  The blaze was growing. Flickering flames spewed waves of black smoke into the air above them.

  They stayed quiet for a moment. The only sounds were Scout’s whimpers and the churning waterfall behind them. Matt’s mind was swimming with thoughts of everything that had gone wrong. They hadn’t found his friends. His dad had gotten hurt. He couldn’t finish the mission.

  Matt shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on what was going right.

  His dad was comfortable—for now. They were safe—for now. Help was on the way.

  He raised his eyes to the glowing red line and tried to picture Dev, Amaiya, and Curtis near it. Had they found a safe place? Were they waiting it out?

  Matt could feel his dad’s eyes on him.

  “Matt-o. Mom’s people are coming. I just need you to sit tight and trust me. Your friends are going to be okay.”

  Matt wished he could believe him.

  11

  MATT NEEDED TO KEEP HIMSELF OCCUPIED.

  “We need a campfire,” he said, scouring the area for dry sticks and leaves. He found a spot on the rocks right next to the water where there was no risk of sparks igniting anything else. He placed the kindling down first, then stacked the sticks on top in a pyramid shape, leaving space between them for air to pass through.

  Fire needs oxygen, Matt could hear his dad telling him on a dozen camping trips when he was younger. It can’t burn without it.

  Matt took a box of waterproof camping matches from his backpack and held a lit match to the dried leaves at the bottom of his woodpile. They caught immediately, and within minutes they could feel the warmth radiating off the crackling fire.

  “Well done,” his dad said.

  “Hungry?” Matt held out a granola bar from his bag.

  “My favorite meal.” His
dad reached for it and grimaced from pain. “Is there enough for you in there too, kiddo?”

  “Plenty.” Matt held up three more bars. He sat down close to his dad and leaned back against the rock.

  They chewed in silence. Matt poured a baggie of kibble out onto the rocks for Scout, who scarfed it down in a few hungry bites. Then he tipped the water bottle to Scout’s mouth, and he gulped the water gratefully.

  Matt’s dad broke the silence. “I know you want to go get your friends, Matt.”

  Matt tried to protest. “I could never leave y—”

  “It’s not your job to worry about me. You know that, right?”

  “But, Dad, you’re hurt—”

  “I am. And I’m also going to be fine. It’s a broken ankle at worst.”

  “But it’s all my fault that you got hurt in the first place,” Matt blurted out, before he even realized what he was going to say. “It’s my fault that you’re even up here on this stupid mountain.” Matt choked up as he said the words. “I’m the one who brought us up here.”

  “We came up here together,” his dad said firmly. “And besides, it’s my job to worry about you—not the other way around.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” Matt said.

  “Oh, Matt-o,” his dad replied with a smile and a shake of his head. “That’s like asking me not to breathe. I’m your dad. There is nothing more important to me than you and Bridget.”

  As if to make sure he was included on the list, Scout wandered over and wriggled his way between Matt and his dad. He plopped his head down on Matt’s lap, and Matt put an arm around him and pulled him close. Scout’s warm, soft fur and familiar—and slightly tangy—breath helped Matt feel calmer.

  “I’m just—not here that much,” his dad said softly. “I’ve spent so much of your life away from you.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. You have to do your job. There are a lot of people out there who need your help.”

  His dad stared up at the smoky sky above them. “I used to worry that I wasn’t here to teach you things.”