by Cassie Cole
Our flight was out of Boise, so the three of us took an hour bus ride south before hopping on the plane. It was a small puddle-jumper, with just three seats per row—one on the right, and two on the left. Foxy and I had seats next to each other.
The flight was less than two hours, but I was still exhausted from our previous jump and found myself nodding off as soon as we were in the air. I woke up with a jerk and realized I was resting my head on Foxy’s shoulder.
“Sorry!”
He grinned down at me. “I don’t mind. I’ve been told my shoulder is awfully comfy.”
I blushed and looked out the window at the mountains we were flying over. “Look at all those trees.”
The seat creaked as Foxy leaned over. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s dangerous,” I said. “Five years of below-average rainfall. Record-high temperatures. When I look at it, all I see is a giant tinderbox waiting to go up.”
“You’re not wrong,” Foxy said. He lowered his voice. “You were also right about how we might get sent on the same assignment. And how because of that we shouldn’t…”
My blush deepened as I realized what he meant.
“I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” Foxy said quietly. “You’re awesome, Haley. I’m glad we’re going to Redding together. If we have to just be friends, then I’m cool with that. We can pretend like nothing happened last night.”
Even though I knew he was right, the words stung. I was glad Foxy was going to Redding with me… But part of me wanted to do more with him, not less.
He was still staring intently at me. I made myself smile and said, “Technically, we didn’t do anything last night. Right?”
“Oh, we did something,” he teased.
“We held ourselves back from going all the way. It doesn’t count.”
Foxy smirked. “It counts a little bit. I know I can’t stop thinking about it.” He cleared his throat. “But I can stop thinking about it. If I need to.”
“Me too,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if that was the truth. “Just friends from now on.”
“Friends and colleagues,” he corrected.
I glanced across the aisle. Derek was staring at the back of the seat in front of him. Like some sort of zombie. Or someone who was traveling to a funeral.
I elbowed Foxy and whispered, “Has Derek seemed strange to you since this morning?”
Foxy paused to glance over. “Probably just processing everything. Maybe he’s anxious. Hell, I’m anxious too. We’ve gotten called up to the big leagues, and there’s a lot of pressure that goes along with that.”
What he said made sense, but I still found myself glancing over at Derek for the rest of our flight.
After we landed and collected our luggage, I fell in beside Derek on the way out of the airport. “You alright?”
“Never better.”
“It’s alright to be anxious.”
He looked sideways at me. “Who says I’m anxious?”
I kept talking like he hadn’t said anything. “On our last jump, I was terrified. My hands were literally shaking on the plane before we jumped. I thought I was going to throw up all over myself. But that kind of anxiety is normal. Especially before we do anything. Once we get sent out on a mission, it will be easier. We’ll be able to focus on our work rather than the anticipation. You know what I mean?”
He gave me a weird look. “Thanks,” he finally said.
I smiled to myself with the knowledge that I’d made him feel a little better.
Redding Smokejumper Base was attached to the airport, a quick walk down the road from the civilian terminal. I had expected someone from the base to greet us at the airport and escort us there, but there was no one that we could see, so we made the short walk by ourselves while carrying our ruck sacks. It was a hot day, hotter than I would have expected for May in California. Sweat covered our faces by the time we reached the base. It looked like any other municipal building, a featureless grey structure like a single story elementary school. We walked through the front door and didn’t see anyone in the lobby.
“I think I hear voices this way,” Foxy said.
We dropped our gear off and followed the sound of a television down the hall. It was coming from a big common room. Tables covered the first half like a school cafeteria, and the far side was filled with couches and chairs. There was a pool table, two pinball machines, and a variety of televisions spread out. One of the televisions was playing the local news.
The Redding smokejumpers were spread out among the couches, relaxing like men who were exhausted but didn’t want to go to sleep at two in the afternoon. Even though they looked clean in their civilian clothes, the smell of smoke and ash was heavy in the air. One or two guys glanced over in our direction, but nobody made any move to greet us.
“This place feels dead,” I whispered. “Did something happen?”
“Aside from six of their jumpers being hospitalized last week in the Shasta fire?” Derek muttered.
Foxy strode toward the closest person, a bald man seated at one of the tables and fiddling with a tablet computer. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but we just arrived from McCall. I’m Reid Fox, but everyone calls me Foxy.”
The bald man stared at his hand but made no move to shake it. “Huh,” he grunted.
Foxy lowered his hand. “Do you know what we’re supposed to do, or where we’re supposed to go? Where’s the base commander?”
“Dunno,” he said, returning his attention to his tablet.
Foxy turned and gave me a what the hell look.
Finally one of the guys near the television rose from his couch and sauntered over. He had wavy chestnut hair and sexy scruff on his cheeks and jaw. His eyes were sharp, although tired, and he gazed at us as if we were a chore he didn’t want to deal with.
“You must be the rookies they sent us,” he said in a deep voice. He looked at each of us in turn, up and down like he was inspecting cattle. “What’s your story? You barely pass smokejumper school, or what?”
“We were top in our class,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I’m Haley Hinch. This is Derek Sale, and Reid Fox.”
My hand disappeared completely within his palm as we shook. He was wearing a tight black tank-top, which bulged with muscle in his arms, shoulders, and neck. He looked like a linebacker. Every part of him was lined with hard muscle.
“Trace Donaldson,” he rumbled. “I’m one of the jumper team leads. Your bunks are down that hall.” He pointed. “Pick any one that’s empty. Doesn’t matter to me.”
He would have been incredibly sexy if he wasn’t frowning so hard. Everything about him radiated unhappiness. Like we were the last thing he wanted to see right now.
They’re all exhausted, I told myself. They’ve been fighting the Shasta Wildfire for weeks.
“We’re excited to get to work,” Foxy said amicably. “Y’all just get back from a jump? Place seems awfully quiet.”
Trace stared back blankly. “We’ve had non-stop missions for four weeks. We just got back from a jump this morning. And we’ll have another one tomorrow. Do whatever you want tonight, but try not to bother anyone. The guys need their rest.”
He walked back to his couch without another word.
“I get the feeling they don’t like us very much,” Foxy muttered.
“Can you blame them?” Derek said bitterly. “They’ve been waiting for reinforcements, and instead they’re sent three rookies right out of smokejumper school. If I were them, I’d be pissed too.”
I gazed around the room at all the men ignoring us. This is going to suck.
9
Haley
We gathered our luggage and picked rooms in the barracks. There was a bunk bed in each room, though there were enough empty rooms that nobody had to share. Mine was in between Foxy’s and Derek’s.
The three of us hung out in the big common room for the rest of the evening. Foxy, being the social butterfly that he was, tried to i
ntroduce himself to some of the Redding veterans. Most of them just ignored him. Foxy eventually gave up, looking as disappointed as a golden retriever who nobody wanted to play with.
Eventually I couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer. I said goodnight and went to my bunk to get some extra sleep. I was still bone-tired from the final training jump at McCall, and if we had a jump in the morning then I wanted to be well-rested. Despite that, I struggled to fall asleep. I was lonely, like a new kid showing up to school halfway through the year. Not only did I have to catch up on all the classwork I’d missed, but I had to scramble to make new friends while everyone treated me like an outsider.
At least I had Derek and Foxy with me. It would have been much worse by myself.
Tomorrow, I told myself as I fell asleep. Tomorrow will be a fresh day.
I was partly right. At breakfast the next morning, the Redding smokejumpers weren’t zombies—they moved around the room energetically and chatted with each other, laughing and joking in a way that was familiar and comforting to me. But the conversation quieted as I walked into the common room. Every eye turned in my direction. Every jumper was sizing me up the way Trace had done yesterday. Measuring my worth.
I grabbed a plate and got in line at the food station. It was just like a school cafeteria, with metal trays of steaming hot food. One guy in a Forest Service uniform stood on the other side of the food, clutching a serving spoon like a dagger.
“Are you the lunch lady?” I said, smiling to make sure he knew it was a joke.
He took my plate wordlessly and began filling it. Scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, and a biscuit smothered with gravy.
“Can I have some bacon?” I asked.
“We’re out.”
I frowned and gestured. “There’s an entire tray of bacon right there.”
He covered the tray of bacon with a lid and said, “It’s bad. Need to throw it out.”
I took my plate of food without argument. I knew how this went. Same shit had happened to me at the Air Force Academy. Guys had a way of letting the new recruits know they were still outsiders who had to prove their value. Withholding privileges, and light hazing.
I’ll have to work twice as hard to earn their trust, I told myself. Just as I’d been doing my entire life.
I found Derek and Foxy sitting at the far end of one table by themselves. There was a DMZ of empty seats between them and the rest of the jumpers. “What’s a girl got to do to get some bacon around here?” I asked as a greeting.
Foxy snorted. “It ain’t because of what’s in your pants. We didn’t get any bacon either.”
“We used to do the same thing in the Army Rangers,” Derek said. He stirred eggs with a fork and looked as glum as he had yesterday. “Harass the burnouts we knew weren’t cut out for it. Put pressure on them in a hundred little ways. Force them to eventually quit.”
“Great,” I said. I wasn’t sure what was worse: withholding bacon because I was a girl, or because I was a newbie.
“Navy was the same way,” Foxy said. “We’ll earn their trust. Just takes time, like anything else.”
“Or one of them will leave us behind to get encircled by a flare-up,” I replied.
For some reason, Derek winced at that. I gave him a questioning glance but he returned to stirring his eggs wordlessly.
While we ate, I noticed the other jumpers whispering and stealing glances at us. Yesterday they were too exhausted to pay any attention to us, but today we were something of a spectacle. One of the guys whispered something, and everyone around him laughed.
Trace Donaldson, the big guy who had greeted us yesterday, was sitting in that group. He was the only person not laughing. He just stared in our direction, then shook his head with something close to disappointment.
I’ll prove what I’m worth, I thought.
“I’m just eager to jump out of a plane,” Foxy said while sipping orange juice. His beard rippled as he smacked his lips. “They can make all the assumptions they want, but hard work speaks for itself.”
I glanced at my phone. “And on that note, it’s almost eight o’clock. Time to receive our marching orders.”
The briefing room was similar to the one back at McCall. Rows of chairs all facing a single podium and two whiteboards with maps taped to them. The room was half full by the time we got there.
“Up there, newbies,” one of the jumpers shouted. “Got some seats reserved for you at the front of the class.”
I’d dealt with bullies before. Grade school, the one year of college I’d tried before dropping out, and the Air Force. The worst thing you could do was let them know they were succeeding in getting under your skin. Better to go with it like it was your plan all along.
Derek looked like he wanted to fight them, though.
“Appreciate it,” I said, patting Derek on the back and leading him to the front of the briefing room. Everyone watched us take our seats like we were a new exhibit at the zoo.
There were about thirty seconds of silence before someone finally spoke.
“You three are replacing good men,” called someone in the back. “Big boots to fill.”
“I can’t promise we’ll be as good as them,” Foxy said diplomatically. “But we’re here to do our best.”
“Your best isn’t what we need,” someone else said bitterly. A man with a scar across his cheek that made the left side of his lip pucker. “We need experienced smokejumpers. There’s no time for on-the-job training out here.”
I twisted to look behind me. “I’m a quick learner.”
“Then learn to sew, honey,” said the first guy. “Half our equipment is tattered and needs mending.”
A couple of guys chuckled. I only grinned.
“I’ll be sure to sew a big pink dildo into your jumpsuit. That way you can go fuck yourself.”
The room roared with laughter and oohs as the insult landed. I kept my eyes on the guy who had told me to sew, with a big smile plastered on my face. To his credit, he didn’t get angry. He gave me a look that said, alright, that was pretty damn funny.
“You think walking in here and insulting my men will win you brownie points?”
The voice cut through the laughter like a chainsaw through wood. Base Commander Callaway had entered from a door at the front of the room and was now standing at the podium. He was much leaner, and grizzled, than Commander Wallace back at McCall. There was more white in his hair than brown, and his skin was wrinkled and leathery. He looked like he spent his time out in the field rather than behind a desk.
And right now he was staring daggers at me.
“Sir,” I said. “I was only—”
“I need excuses like I need a kick to the teeth. We don’t have time for your rookie bullshit.” His voice was thin and raspy. If he were in any other profession I would have assumed he smoked cigarettes, but here? I knew it was years of throat damage from inhaling smoke and scalding air.
“Sorry, sir,” I said with an inward wince.
He was already ignoring me and addressing the room as a whole. “We did good work in the jump two days ago, and the forestry guys on the ground have held their own. But the wind shifted overnight, and now the Shasta Wildfire is spreading toward the San Claranden Valley.”
There were no groans or curses in the room. Just intense looks from the smokejumpers. But I surmised from Commander Callaway that it was bad news.
He pointed at the map taped to the whiteboard. “We’ve got two jumps scheduled for this morning. Jump Group Alpha will be landing here, and constructing a handline from this lake eastward. Jump Group Beta will be landing three clicks north of there to build a backup handline in case the first cannot be constructed in time. Finally, a third group will be sent on the ground to assist the state forestry service in their fire road construction to the south, protecting another wooded entrance to the valley. The primary goal of all three groups is resource protection by indirect attack. Any questions?”
He hardly paused lon
g enough for anyone to respond. He taped a piece of paper to the whiteboard next to the map and said, “Your assignments are here. All groups be ready to depart in one hour.”
Callaway nodded in dismissal and began walking away.
“Short and sweet,” Foxy said. “Like how I prefer my women.” He gave me a sideways glance.
“Shut up,” I muttered. Everyone in the room was jumping to their feet to check the assignment sheet, but I rose and followed Callaway out the door and into the hall. “Commander Callaway? Sir?”
He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t slow down. “Don’t have time to hear your apology. Don’t care about it, either.”
I caught up to him and stuck out my hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself. Smokejumper Hinch.”
To my immense relief, he shook my hand. “Haley Hinch,” he said while still walking down the hall. “Six years in the Air Force, including the Wings of Green program. Skipped out on applying for the Wings of Blue, and instead went home to join a volunteer fire department in North Carolina. Signed up for smokejumping school after a year of that. Passed yesterday at the top of the class.”
“You… know me?” I stammered.
He scoffed. “I don’t allow so much as a cockroach into this building without knowing everything about it. So I sure as hell wouldn’t accept three rookies without knowing beyond a doubt that they can do their jobs, and do them well. Too many lives are on the line to accept anything other than the best.”
“I understand, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“I don’t give a fuck about me,” he shot back, “and neither should you. Getting shouted at by a superior shouldn’t even cross your mind. What you should be afraid of is letting your teammates down. And the good people of California who are relying on us to keep them safe.” He stopped in front of his office and turned toward me. “If we fail at our job, innocent people die. Thousands more lose their homes, their cities, their way of life. We are the last line of defense against the angry arm of mother nature. No, failing me shouldn’t be your biggest fear, Smokejumper Hinch. Failing everyone else should be.”
