by Cassie Cole
“Somehow I doubt that,” Derek said. Trace looked sideways at him, which made me wince, but then he rose and said it was time to get back to work.
“Are the fires intensifying, or is it my imagination?” Foxy said, pointing to the glow to the east.
“They’re not intensifying, and you’re not imagining it,” Trace said in a deep voice. “That’s the sunrise.”
“One night down, another day up,” Derek said.
We got into a good groove that morning. Cutting, digging, clearing. Extending the handline into the forest, a protective moat against the oncoming wildfire. It was exhausting work, but Trace gave us regular breaks to refuel and rest throughout the day.
That night, we started taking four hour rest shifts. I slept from eight to midnight, Derek took midnight to four, and then Foxy slept until eight in the morning. Trace claimed he didn’t need a break, but I took him by the hand, led him back to our camp, and practically shoved him in the sleeping bag.
“Thanks, mom,” he said as I began to leave.
I held up two fingers. “That’s two jokes you’ve made since we started.”
“Like I said, adrenaline and sleep deprivation.”
“All the more reason to sleep,” I said. “I’ll wake you in four.”
I ended up letting him sleep five, a fact which he didn’t complain about when he finally marched into the forest and swapped his McLeod for my Pulaski. But I could tell by the color in his cheeks that he was a lot fresher after the rest.
“I’m feeling pretty good about this,” Foxy said later that night while raking dirt. “We’re almost linked up with the fourth team’s handline. Under budget and ahead of schedule.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Trace said.
“You superstitious?” I asked with a frown.
“I wouldn’t say I’m superstitious,” he said with a smile. “But I’m definitely a little bit stitious.”
I held up three fingers. “That’s three jokes. You might need some more sleep, boss.”
“Don’t call me boss,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.
We were all feeling good about our work, despite being on the tail end of a two day shift. Then all we would need to do is maintain what we had built, and our job would be done.
Then we go home.
Everything went to shit before we got that far.
27
Haley
We finished connecting our handline with the adjacent team around nine o’clock that night, after the sun had set. We exchanged high-fives and jokes with them, tidied up around the connection, and then made the long trek back to our base camp. Trace used a can of spray paint to draw three lines along the way, dividing the handline into the four sections we would cover. Altogether, each section was about two-hundred yards long.
A lot of ground to cover, I thought as I laid down in the meadow by our gear crates.
“Spotters,” Trace said into his radio, “how much down time do we have?”
The other three of us were laying in the grass without our radios on, so we had to wait for Trace to get the response and then hold up three fingers. Three hours. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the soft ground. That would be plenty of time to rest before we had to man the lines.
But five minutes later, things changed.
“What?” Trace suddenly barked into his radio. He sat upright on the ground, eyes wide. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“What is it?” Derek asked.
Trace tossed his radio on the ground. “The fire intensity hasn’t decreased like they expected. If anything, it has increased. Our handlines need to be widened by five more feet.”
It took a few moments for that to sink in. “We have to widen the entire handline?” I asked incredulously.
Trace got to his feet and grabbed a Pulaski. “If we don’t, then the fire might spread past the handline. All our work would be for nothing.”
“Son of a…” My legs protested as I got to my feet. “There’s no way we can widen the whole thing in three hours.”
“We have to try,” Trace said, but he sounded as unhappy as I did.
We marched back into the forest with our tools and set to work. It reminded me of mowing a lawn in straight lines, and then starting over at a new line right next to the previously cut one. After thinking we were already done, it was demoralizing to have to start over at the edge of the meadow again. All the muscle aches and exhaustion I had been able to ignore before resurfaced twice as loud. Every time I pulled my McLeod across the ground, the muscles in my arms and ligaments in my elbow groaned with pain.
But I didn’t complain, and I didn’t slow down. I didn’t want all of this to be for nothing.
“All jump teams, be aware,” the spotter called after an hour. “The fire is spreading more rapidly than we expected, and at a higher intensity. It will reach the handlines in the following times. Jump Team One in two hours. Jump Team Two…”
The four of us cursed loudly when he reached our team. “Thirty minutes? We’ve barely started,” Derek said.
Trace’s face went blank. “Let’s finish widening what we can, then come up with a plan for defense.”
We worked twice as hard for the next twenty minutes, but it wasn’t much use. Trace ran out of chainsaw fuel immediately and had to use the ax side of a Pulaski to cut down small shrubs. Foxy had to bend over and yank roots out of the ground with his hands. When Trace finally called a halt to the work and we returned to base camp, only one tenth of the total handline had been widened.
“Fire is a hundred yards from your handline,” the spotter told us. “You’ve got ten minutes, give or take.”
Trace began divvying out supplies from the crate. Each of us took a handheld oxygen respirator, a medical kit, and a fire shelter. “You shouldn’t need the O2 tanks immediately, but have them ready just in case the wind swirls,” Trace said.
I mentally said the part he left out: or in case we need to deploy our fire shelters. But none of us wanted to think that far ahead. Fire shelters were a last resort, and we should be able to fall back to safer territory if things got bad.
Trace tied a bandana around his mouth. With his grimy brown hair and intense eyes, it made him look like a nineteenth century bandit. One who was absolutely jacked.
“Foxy, you’ll take the first section by the meadow,” Trace said. “Since you’ve got a big chunk that’s widened, try to cover a little bit of the next section, which Derek will take. Haley? You’ve got the next section beyond that. Be sure to watch the curve in the handline—I have a bad feeling about that area. Then I’ll take the last section.”
I shared a look with Foxy, but none of us argued. Trace’s section was the most dangerous since it was farthest from the meadow anchor point. A bad leader would have sent someone else to cover it. A good leader accepted the most dangerous part for themselves to protect the people under them.
I need to point that out the next time he claims he’s not a good leader, I thought.
Trace patted each of us on the shoulder while we guzzled water. “The important thing is to stay calm. It’s easy to get flustered with a high-intensity wildfire bearing down on you. If you start panicking, say so on the radio so we can help out.” He lingered extra long with his hand on my shoulder. “We’re a team, and teams pick each other up.”
I smiled up at him.
“The spotters will be watching for breakthroughs in the line, but they’ll be slower than our own eyes. If any flames get past the line, call it out. Now, let’s go kick this fire’s ass!”
We marched back out to our defensive positions. Foxy stopped in his section, and then Derek after him. When Trace and I were alone, he said, “How was my pep talk?”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“That seems like a low bar,” Trace rumbled.
I moved my Pulaski to my left hand so I could pat him on the back. “You did fine. Better than a little league coach in a cheesy eighties movie.”
He ch
uckled. “Now we just need We Will Rock You to start playing to set the mood.”
“Next time I’ll bring my radio.”
We reached the spot in the handline marked with spray paint. I gave Trace a final smile and then watched his huge, hulking form walk deeper into the forest.
And then I was alone.
The forest was still quiet, like the calm before a storm. Aside from the occasional bird in the sky, there was no wave of squirrels or woodland creatures fleeing ahead of the wildfire. Most of the animals had fled long before now. Only the humans were stupid enough to still be here.
The only sign of the fire was the orange glow in the sky, reflected against the dark smoke that climbed into the air and mingled with the clouds, blotting out the stars.
My pulse raced as I held my Pulaski across my chest. I was shocked I still had adrenaline in my body after working for two straight days. When all of this was over, I was going to sleep for three straight days. To calm myself, I opened my PG bag and checked my supplies again. Respirator and O2 tank, one more protein bar, a canteen of water, caffeine pills, my medical kit, and the fire shelter. Everything exactly where I’d left them ten minutes ago.
My radio crackled inside my helmet. “Just a normal night at the office,” Foxy said casually. “Who the hell didn’t clean out the coffee pot?”
“Must’ve been me,” Trace replied, deadpan. “I think I took the last cup. My bad.”
“And to think you’re supposed to be management,” Foxy said scornfully. “This is the definition of a hostile work environment. I’m calling HR.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be dealing with a printer jam right now,” Derek said.
“I second that,” I chimed in. “Printers don’t burst into flames and threaten to burn the whole building down.”
Foxy laughed. “You’ve never seen my mom’s old scanner, then. That thing got so hot while running that I swear the bulb melted the plastic shield. Made the whole house smell awful every time she used it!”
I laughed out loud. Even though I was alone in the forest, I didn’t feel alone.
Trace broke the moment by suddenly saying, “First tendrils of flame hitting my section. Standby to assist if necessary.”
Silence filled the air. I imagined Trace pacing up and down the line, using his backpack pump to spray hotspots with water.
“Got some hitting my section too,” Derek said soon after. “Seems to be holding so far.”
The wind picked up as the front of the wildfire drew closer to me, bringing with it the acrid scent of burning wood and pine needles. In the forest in front of me, it was like someone was slowly turning up an orange dimmer light. Unlike the wildfires we’d been fighting to this point, this one was not weak by any means. Its intensity was instantly obvious. Rather than a line of smoldering material advancing on the ground, this fire was a swirling maelstrom with flames six feet tall. It was a deep orange like lava pouring from a volcano. The fire advanced through the forest toward my position, swirling like a living, breathing monster.
I wasn’t very religious. I could count on one hand all the times I’d prayed. With the wall of flame bearing down on me, I added another tick to that count and said a quiet prayer to whoever may be listening.
Let me get through this. Let me survive to see the sunrise tomorrow.
The flames reached the edge of the handline. The wildfire seemed to be enraged by the barrier we had erected to block its path. The deep orange color flared with yellow and white as it searched for more fuel. I pulled my bandana over my face to protect my skin, but the waves of heat still brought tears to my eyes and scalded my cheeks. Ash and tiny embers floated through the air like bullets, attacking me from the ever-intensifying wind.
I began walking along the handline to search for hotspots threatening to break through the line. It was alarming seeing so many embers floating across to the “safe” side of the handline, even though they weren’t hot enough to ignite any new fires. I tried to stay calm while walking along the handline, but it was like walking along the eyewall of a hurricane. The chaos was right there, so close that I could almost reach out and touch it. Throw in the fact that I had a section two football fields long to protect…
A tendril of grey smoke on the “safe” side caught my eye. An ember was beginning to ignite a clump of pine needles. I wielded my Pulaski and covered it with mineral soil, then stamped it down with my boot.
I came across several small danger areas like this. None of them were large enough to call it out on the radio, but each time my pulse raced until I had extinguished them. Sweat rolled down my neck and between my shoulder blades. It was like working with my head inside an oven, and I constantly had to wipe my face with my sleeve—something that was tough to do while wearing a hard hat.
Then I came across a sight that stabbed my heart with fear. A huge pine bough had landed on the other side of the handline and was burning gently. “I’ve got a possible breakthrough about eighty yards into the south end of my section!” I said while sprinting toward it.
“Need assistance?” Derek asked. “I can be there in two minutes if you need me.”
I shoveled mineral soil onto the pine bough. Sparks and embers flew it all directions, but I covered them one by one while shoveling like a crazy person.
“Naw, I think I’ve got it under control,” I said when it was nearly extinguished. “It didn’t spread fast.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when it was covered, then continued down the line to look for more trouble.
Unlike all the other fires I’d fought in my days, this one seemed angry. Wind whipped the flames toward me like fiery fingers as I walked along. The heat pulsed and scalded the left side of my body through my clothes. Soon the right side of my face was drenched in sweat, not because it was the only side sweating but because the left side was evaporating before I could feel it.
I fought a few more flare-ups like the pine bough. I got to each one in time, but they were the kinds of hotspots that would reignite the entire wildfire on the safe side if left unattended. Each of them was just on the other side of the handline. If we had had time to widen it another five feet, none of them would have been a problem at all.
I reached the south end of my section and turned back. Then the spotter crackled in my radio. “Donaldson? We think we see a potential breakthrough to the north. Approximately four-hundred yards from the base camp.”
“On my way!” I replied at the same time Trace said, “Heading there now.”
I sprinted along the handline, then slowed to a jog when I realized I wouldn’t be able to keep up that pace. I passed several burning embers on the “safe” side of the handline, but I ignored them and kept running. A potential breakthrough visible from the spotter aircraft was much worse.
Hopefully we’re not too late.
I knew what the spotter was referring to the moment I reached it. A tall pine tree had fallen from the burn side across the handline. The taller branches were burning softly on the “safe” side of the line, and beginning to ignite the surrounding material on the forest floor.
Trace slid to a stop on the other side of the tree. “Confirmed flare-up!” he shouted. “Hinch and I are engaging now.”
“Need assistance?” Derek asked.
Trace and I met near the top of the tree, where the flaming trunk was deepest into the “safe” section. “It’ll take you too long to get here,” Trace told him, which sounded like an echo that I heard in person and in my ear. “By then it’ll either be under control, or it will be too late.”
He nodded to me to get my attention. “Start digging for containment. I’ll stop the spreading where I can.”
I began digging my Pulaski into the ground by the top of the fallen tree, down until I reached the cold mineral soil. Then I started digging a moat around the right side of the tree, where the surrounding pine needles were beginning to burn the fastest. It was just damage control for now, but we had to work quickly. Right no
w, it was a manageable breach in our handline. If the fire spread any farther, though…
Trace worked on the other side of the burning tree, using his backpack pump to spray a stream of water on the surrounding undergrowth while sweeping away the larger fuel with his boots. That wouldn’t stop an intense wildfire for long, but it would hopefully buy enough time for me to extend the moat around that side.
“Hurry,” Trace growled.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” I shot back.
I dug faster than I’d ever dug before. Tilling the ground and stirring it up like a field ready for planting. At one point the flames from the fallen tree flared up and scalded my right side and made me yelp, but I didn’t slow down. Finally I connected the moat to the handline on one side. Then I jogged back to the top of the fallen tree and started digging it around the other side.
“How’s your water?” I asked.
“Could be better,” Trace replied. “But I think we have enough to contain this. Need to switch?”
“No time,” I said as I continued digging. Making him take off the backpack and then putting it on me might have only taken fifteen seconds, but that felt like too much time to sacrifice right now. Already the fire was spreading faster on this side, and I had to adjust my angle of moat to make sure I cut off the advance. Trace had started out spraying his water in small squirts, strategically dampening certain parts, but now he was unleashing a continuous spray to keep the flames at bay. Or, at the very least, slow the advance.
“Donaldson, report your progress.”
“We’re working on it,” he replied with more than zero attitude. “Containment is nearly complete…”
Somehow, I dug the moat in front of the flames and connected it to the other side of the handline, completing our encirclement of the fallen pine. As soon as that was done, Trace grabbed his own Pulaski from the ground and helped me dig deeper into the moat. We tossed the cool mineral soil onto the pine tree, first extinguishing the boughs and then eventually moving in to cover the trunk itself. Tendrils of smoke still rose from the pile of dirt when we were done, but the flames were extinguished. Covered in soil, the tree looked like a massive, twenty-foot-long grave.
