Lang Downs

by Ariel Tachna

  “I never dated,” Ian admitted. “Not even before I got here. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Never?” Neil said. “Wow, that’s….”

  “Pathetic,” Ian said. “I know, but my life wasn’t good before I got here. You knew that already even if you didn’t know the details. I’m probably going to fuck this up completely.”

  “Focus on getting to know him,” Neil said. “If you like what you learn, you can figure the rest out as you go.”

  “Thanks, mate,” Ian said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Just, you know, don’t give me details, okay?” Neil said. “I don’t need to know about your sex life.”

  Choking, gasping, retching up bile and bitter fluid.

  “No details,” Ian promised. Neil didn’t need to know there wouldn’t be any details to share.

  “Get the gate?” Neil asked as they reached the edge of Lang Downs. Grateful for the respite, Ian jumped down and opened the gate for the ute to drive through. He shut it behind them and hopped back in, content to sit in silence as they headed toward the clouds of smoke, much closer now than they’d been an hour ago.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Neil said as they drove. “There wasn’t that much smoke last night.”

  “Nor this morning,” Ian said. “Thorne didn’t sound pessimistic when we talked about it this morning, but things must have changed since we got up.”

  “I don’t know what caused it to get worse, but I know what’s going to cause it to go out,” Neil said direly. “That bitch of a fire isn’t getting anywhere near my family.”

  “Just don’t get hurt. Molly wouldn’t forgive either one of us if you did,” Ian said.

  Neil scowled at him but didn’t argue as they drew nearer the fire line. Ian could see tracks left by heavy equipment. Neil steered the ute along the trails they had left behind, and in a matter of minutes, they had reached the RFS brigade.

  “Did Thorne mention the captain’s name?” Neil asked as he parked the ute.

  “Not to me,” Ian said, “but Caine and Macklin are already here. I’m sure the captain knows we’re coming.”

  They climbed out of the ute and joined Caine, Macklin, and the other Lang Downs jackaroos to see what their orders were.

  “The heart of the fire is on the other side of this ridge,” the captain was saying as they walked up. “The ridge itself is rocky, so hopefully that’ll stop that portion, but there’s the risk of it splitting into two fires and closing us in. I’ve got my men spread out, watching for it, but it’s a waiting game. Unfortunately, there was a huge deadfall at the base of the ridge. All those fallen branches and trees in one place has made the fire hotter and stronger now than it’s been in weeks, which makes the risk of it working around the ridge greater.”

  “Tell us where you want us,” Macklin said. “Most of my crew bosses have experience with grassfires, and the rest of the jackaroos are levelheaded enough to do as they’re told.”

  “We’ve got the foam utes out trying to spray the areas where the fire is most likely to spread,” the captain said, “but that’s guesswork until we see how it develops from here. I’ll assign a crew of your men to each group of my Firies. That way we have men in place no matter what happens.”

  “Neil, get the crews divided, at least one experienced man per crew. Make it very clear they take orders from the RFS and aren’t to do anything without orders. We’re here to help, not to get in the way.”

  “Yes, boss,” Neil said. “Ian, get your crew.”

  Seven

  THE ROARING of the fire was deafening, and the smoke so thick Ian couldn’t see the other men in his crew. They were supposed to be watching out for one another as well as doing their best to combat the fire, but Ian could only hope they were safe because he had his hands full with the fire. They’d given the deadfall up as lost and had backed along the base of the ridge to a break in the trees where they had a hope of containing the revitalized fire, but Ian wasn’t sure how long they’d be able to hold it. He had cleared the ground as well as he could, but he was limited to a rake and shovel. They couldn’t get the heavy equipment to this location, so it was up to the men on the ground. Ian could see bare dirt in places, but there was still far too much dry grass there for his peace of mind. He wished he could see or hear the others so he had some idea of how they were faring, but short of abandoning his assigned spot, he was on his own.

  The roaring got louder as the edge of the fire approached, licking greedily at the makeshift firebreak. Ian gripped his shovel more firmly and went back to building a wall of dirt to stop the advance. He coughed through the wet kerchief that covered his nose and mouth. The smoke was getting worse too. His eyes and lungs burned from exposure, but this was his home at stake. He had to keep fighting.

  “WHERE’S IAN?” Thorne demanded as the crew came stumbling back into the staging area. “He was supposed to be with you.”

  “We had to get out of there, Lachlan. There wasn’t anywhere viable to make a stand. I wasn’t throwing our lives away for nothing.”

  “Where’s Ian?” he repeated.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Emery, are you up to a rescue mission?” Thorne said, giving up on getting anything else from the sorry excuse of a firefighter. You didn’t leave men behind.

  “Who are we rescuing?” Neil asked. His face was covered in soot, but otherwise he looked much as he had for the past two days, cocky grin and all.

  “Ian.”

  Neil’s expression sobered. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I need rope,” Thorne said. “I don’t know where he is, but his crew was at the base of the ridge. If he’s still there, I can climb down to him, but if he’s hurt, you might have to help pull us back up.”

  “Let me get the others,” Neil said. “I don’t know if I can pull you both up if it comes to that.”

  “Meet me at the ridge. I’m going to start searching.”

  Neil nodded and took off at a run. Thorne ran in the opposite direction, to the edge of the ridge and Ian’s last known position. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see a thing.

  “Any luck?” Neil asked. He handed Thorne a coil of rope.

  “I can’t see a thing.” He tied the rope around his waist. “I’m going down. If I pull twice, pull me up.”

  Neil didn’t look happy but he nodded. “Bring him back.”

  “I’ve never left a man behind. I’m not planning on starting now.” Thorne didn’t admit that sometimes he’d brought back bodies of men he couldn’t save. Neil didn’t need to hear that part, although the look on his face suggested he’d guessed.

  Thorne climbed down the ridge as fast as he could with the limited equipment. If he’d had his Commando team with him, they’d have jerry-rigged a harness and carabiner in the time it took him to blink and his descent would have been both faster and safer, but they were all back in Afghanistan last he’d heard from Walker. He was on his own.

  The temperature spiked as he neared the ground. He peered through the smoke, searching for Ian. To his right the fire formed a flickering wall. If Ian was that way, he was too late. Praying with all his might, he moved to the left and continued his search.

  IAN COUGHED again, the force of it bending him double. He had to get out of there. He wasn’t doing any good anymore, but he couldn’t see a way out with the smoke so thick around him. Away from the fire was the best he could hope for. If he could move faster than the approaching flames, he would win free of the smoke eventually. He just had to keep his head and his feet until then. He took a moment to get his bearings and set out toward safety.

  Ten minutes later, he was ready to admit defeat. Either his sense of direction had deserted him in the smoke, or the fire had him surrounded. He collapsed to the ground as another coughing fit took him. Self-preservation dictated he stand up and keep searching for a way out, but he couldn’t catch his breath to make his legs support him. He was going to die here, and he’d do so without ever ha
ving a chance to see if Neil was right and if Thorne really could be the right one for him. He had no real hope of escaping this alive, but if he did, he swore he’d stop letting fear hold him back. Maybe Thorne wasn’t the one, but Ian had nothing to lose by finding that out. If he made it out, he’d make the most of his second chance.

  He doubled over again, the coughing almost constant now. He wouldn’t have to worry about the fire getting him. The smoke would kill him before the flames could reach him.

  His vision grayed from lack of oxygen, and he dropped to his side, hoping the smoke wouldn’t be as thick and he could hold on long enough to crawl away. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but he no longer trusted his own senses. He rolled toward where the voice seemed to be coming from, hoping to find some sign that it was real, not a smoke-induced hallucination.

  Thorne burst into the clearing where he lay, and Ian knew it was a hallucination.

  “IAN!”

  Thorne fell to his knees next to Ian and checked his pulse rapidly. Okay, good, he was still alive. He lifted the kerchief covering Ian’s mouth and checked for breathing. Shallow but present, which meant he needed to get Ian out of there as swiftly as possible. The smoke stung his eyes as he pulled Ian to his feet.

  “Can you walk?” he asked as he supported Ian’s weight with his shoulder.

  “Try,” Ian said hoarsely. That was enough for Thorne. He followed the rope back the way he’d come, aiming for the ridge and from there up to safety. The fires were getting closer. They’d have to hurry or even that escape route would be cut off.

  “Thought—” Ian’s words were cut off by a hacking cough. Thorne didn’t like the sound of that at all, but he couldn’t do anything about it until they were safe from the flames.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Thorne said. “Save your energy for walking.”

  The smoke thinned slightly as they made their way toward the ridge, and as it did, Ian seemed to shake free of some of the lethargy that had weakened him. He still coughed far more than Thorne was comfortable with, but he wasn’t leaning as heavily on Thorne’s shoulder, nor was Thorne having to drag him along to get him to walk.

  “We’re almost to the ridge,” Thorne said. “When we get there, Neil and the others will pull us up. You just have to hold on a little longer.”

  “You came for me,” Ian gasped as he pulled the kerchief away from his face. “I thought I was going to die.”

  Thorne tightened his grip. He wouldn’t have hesitated to plunge back into the smoke for any of the men he’d met at Lang Downs or for any of the other Firies, but saving Ian had been even more than the imperative of his training. Something had started building between them last night and this morning, and Thorne wanted to see what it could be. He could argue with himself later about how they hadn’t known each other long enough for it to be anything more than curiosity, but right now, facing the fact that Ian had been down when he found him, that a few minutes later and he’d have lost him, Thorne gave up being logical.

  “I’ll always come for you.”

  Ian stumbled, and when Thorne pulled him to his feet again, Ian was in front of him, completely encircled by Thorne’s arms. He told himself they were still in danger, that this was neither the time nor the place, but Ian was reaching for him, and Thorne gave in and lowered his head so he could close his lips over Ian’s mouth. Ian tasted of soot and smelled of smoke, but Thorne didn’t care. Ian was kissing him back, and nothing else mattered. He deepened the kiss frantically, loving the way Ian practically climbed into his arms, tangling his hands in Thorne’s hair and pulling it free of the band that held it out of his face. He felt Ian tense as he supported his weight with his hands on Ian’s arse, but Ian didn’t stop kissing him to protest, so Thorne didn’t move his hands.

  Another coughing fit forced them to separate. “Come on,” Thorne said. “We’ve got to get you to a doctor.”

  Ian nodded and stumbled forward again at Thorne’s urging until they reached the base of the ridge.

  “This is where it gets interesting,” he warned Ian. “We only have one rope and not enough time to pull us up separately.” He looped the rope around Ian’s chest and knotted it as best he could. “Neil and the others are going to pull us up, but you have to hold onto me while I guide our climb. Whatever happens, don’t let go.”

  “I won’t,” Ian said.

  Thorne pulled hard on the rope twice and braced for the answering tug. The rope bit into his back as it pulled taut and they began their ascent. He’d have bruises, if not rope burn, by the time they reached the top, but he’d had worse injuries, and Ian was depending on him. He braced Ian between his chest and the steep slope, angling his body in the reverse of a rappeler’s seat so his feet were at a ninety-degree angle to his hips, creating a cradle for Ian to sit in.

  The muscles in his legs protested the extra weight, but he ignored them. His body was a tool for him to use, not the arbiter of his actions. This had to be done, so he would do it, no matter the cost.

  Inch by inch, they climbed out of the valley, leaving the flames behind them, but the smoke followed them and Ian’s cough returned with a vengeance. “Just a little longer,” Thorne said. He wished his hands were free to pull the kerchief back over Ian’s nose and mouth, but he needed them to stabilize Ian and hold his position. “There’s an oxygen mask in the medic’s tent, and we’ll get you to Cowra and a doctor in no time at all. Just keep breathing, slow and shallow so it doesn’t irritate your lungs any worse than it already has.”

  Ian nodded through the coughing. Thorne wanted to reassure him, but he had to focus on keeping his feet beneath him or they’d both end up crashing into the ridge. They were bruised and battered enough; they didn’t need any more proof of having survived this battle. Another coughing fit, even worse this time, racked Ian’s body, and he convulsed against Thorne, throwing him off balance. He tipped sideways, crashing into the rocky slope. The pressure on the rope didn’t abate, though, dragging them inexorably upward. He cursed under his breath as the rough surface tore at his skin. He hadn’t bothered with full gear when he’d gone searching for Ian, so he had only a thin T-shirt to protect his arms and shoulders, and it would be shredded in a matter of moments. He twisted his shoulders, trying to keep Ian away from the rocks. They were nearly at the top now. A few more minutes and they’d be to safety and it wouldn’t matter. He winced as a particularly sharp stone tore through his T-shirt and scored his back, but with Ian’s weight against him and with the jackaroos above still pulling them up, Thorne couldn’t do anything but hang on. He ran too great a risk of hurting Ian if he tried to get his feet back under him now.

  Finally they reached the top of the ridge and hands reached over the edge to grab them. Thorne pushed Ian up ahead of him before grabbing another set of hands and pulling himself the rest of the way up.

  “He needs oxygen,” Thorne ordered as soon as he saw the Lang Downs jackaroos crowded around Ian’s prone form. “Give him space to breathe.”

  One of the Firies ran toward the supply tent and came back a minute later, pushing his way through the crowd of men to give Thorne the oxygen mask. It was a small container, but it would hopefully be enough to stabilize Ian for the drive to Cowra. Thorne thought he could make it in about thirty minutes if he pushed the ute’s limits on the rough outback terrain, forty-five at the most.

  “He needs to see a doctor,” Thorne said. “The hospital in Cowra is the closest.”

  “I’ll take—” Thorne glared at Neil with such ferocity that he could see Neil swallow hard and change his mind—“your place on the squad so you can drive him to town. Carley can bring a change of clothes for you both, but it’ll take her longer to get there than it will you.”

  “I’m fine,” Thorne said automatically.

  “No, you’re bloody well not,” Neil snapped. “Your arms and back are bleeding. You look like somebody dragged you over rocks.”

  Thorne managed a sardonic smile. “Somebody did. Thanks for that
, mate. You saved both our lives getting us out of there. A few scrapes are worth his life.”

  Thorne wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look Neil gave him, but he had other things to worry about, like getting Ian to the hospital. “Do you think you can walk to my ute?” he asked Ian.

  Ian started to pull the mask away to answer, but Thorne caught his hand. “Don’t talk. Just nod.”

  Ian nodded, so Thorne helped him to his feet. Ian managed a couple of steps before he stumbled again. Out of patience, Thorne scooped Ian into his arms, ignoring the annoyed squawk, and carried him the rest of the way to the ute. He would tell himself later that he hadn’t relished the surprised but touched expression on Ian’s face or how good Ian felt in his arms, but for the moment, he took gleeful advantage of the situation. He’d nearly lost Ian to the grassfires, but Ian was safe now, and even better, he’d reciprocated when Thorne kissed him.

  When they had time and privacy, he fully intended to see what else Ian would be interested in reciprocating.

  The drive to Cowra was harrowing as Thorne pushed the limits of his ute’s off-road capabilities, skidding and fishtailing over the dirt and gravel paths the heavy equipment had dug out. Beside him, Ian held on to the door handle with one hand and the oxygen mask with the other, looking pale and maybe a little carsick, but Thorne didn’t slow down. Better carsick than choking from the smoke.

  When they hit the main roads, Thorne tossed the fireman’s light on the console and gunned the engine. He wasn’t racing to a fire, but he had a legitimate medical emergency if anyone challenged his use of the emergency light. He ignored the signs that said Emergency Vehicles Only and pulled right up to the hospital doors. “I need a gurney,” he shouted as he jumped out of the cab and went around to help Ian out.