Smoky Mountain Sweethearts

by Cheryl Harper

  The chief muttered, “Bump.” He pried Sam’s eyelids open. “Nausea and vomiting. Think we’re talking concussion.”

  Rodriguez cursed. “Sorry, man. We had to get you out of the fire zone.”

  Sam knew the kid was talking about his rough exit, but saving his life was more important than the indelicate way they’d pulled him out. He wanted to say that, but his throat was on fire. He tried a thumbs-up but couldn’t move his left arm.

  At his second grunt, the chief made quick work of all the buckles and fasteners securing his jacket, utility belt and the harness where he’d had a canister of retardant that was now apparently squashed under a fallen tree. “Could be the smoke. Besides, blame the tree for the bump.”

  Sam wanted to nod, but the dizzy urge to pass out again was difficult to fight off, even with the gentlest jostling he could expect. They needed to know how badly he was injured. For that matter, he needed to know how extensive the injuries were.

  Was his career over, delayed due to a recovery period, or on a few days’ mandatory rest and as-good-as-new status?

  The chief worked methodically up both arms and across Sam’s collarbone. When the pain level remained at “I want to die but I won’t,” Sam relaxed.

  The chief turned to his legs and Sam was even more encouraged that he could feel the firm grip as McKesson removed his boots. The realization made him want to cry like a newborn.

  If his legs were solid, he was solid.

  Then, with one light sweep of the chief’s hand over Sam’s left side, the whole world went hazy. He might have lost consciousness for half a second because he missed everything but “...broken ribs. Could be bad bruises, but I think we’ve got fractures.” Sam had to fight back more nausea as he watched the chief lean back. “You having trouble getting air in, Blackburn?”

  Flail chest, or multiple broken ribs that detach and make it impossible to breathe, could be dangerous here. Sam tried to calm the panic in his mind, but each breath was a struggle.

  “In through the nose. Out through the mouth,” McKesson said in a low voice. “We aren’t in any hurry here, Blackburn.”

  Sam focused on the chief’s calm face and breathed every time he repeated the instructions. Eventually, the smothering sensation faded. Pain was bearable; dying because he couldn’t get enough oxygen was not.

  McKesson squeezed his shoulder. “Good man. You keep that up. Let’s try some water for that throat. Want to?”

  Sam wasn’t sure whether he wanted to try water, because the nausea was clawing back up his throat, but he wanted to be able to speak for himself, so he raised a shaking right hand to take the thermos from Rodriguez. When he sipped it, sweet tea exploded on his tongue, the taste comforting and welcome and smooth as it slid down his burning throat. “That is not water.”

  Sam wasn’t sure anyone would be able to understand his gravelly words, but Rodriguez shook the thermos. “My girl, sometimes she sends me with two. That’s how I know she’s with me. I got something sweet.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Sam wanted to laugh but he knew it would hurt, so he nodded.

  The chief’s glare was intense as he shoved the thermos back at Rodriguez. “Drink the water, Blackburn.” His canteen was old-school, but Sam was sure it held regulation tap water and nothing else. The chief was like that.

  Now that some of the pain in his throat had eased, Sam was thirsty. He took the first swallow of tepid water and closed his eyes in relief. It should have worried him that it felt that good to breathe and sip water, but he was going to take the small victory.

  “Now we know you’re still with us, let’s see if we can get the incident commander on the comms,” the chief said. “There ought to be a satellite radio somewhere around, too.”

  When Sam tried to give the chief his water back, he was firmly held in place by one broad hand. “Stop moving.” He reached over to click on the comms again. “Crew chief to commander. We’ve got a fire in progress, lightning strike in origin, but we also have an injured crew member. Respond with orders. Over.”

  Sam wanted to object to the need to get any direction from the fire crew incident commander. It was obvious they should contain the fire.

  When there was no answer, the crew chief met his stare. “This station is currently out of the fire zone, but that doesn’t mean it will stay that way, Blackburn. We can’t leave you here.”

  Sam would have argued, but every slight shift stole his breath, so he did his best to relax and concentrate on the right words. He wanted them to do the job. He could get himself out of the station if things got worse.

  Then he realized he couldn’t get himself to the doorway without passing out.

  If they moved him outside, near the engine...

  Sure, when he regained consciousness, he could totally crawl up into the engine, start it up and crash into the flames to save his team.

  Because that was as good a plan as any he could come up with at this point.

  The blow to the head had rattled his brain.

  “Whatever you think, Chief,” he croaked as he settled down to wait out the verdict. He was part of the rescue at this point. He was no longer part of the team.

  And that burned, but he knew when he was beat and he wasn’t going to waste anyone’s time pretending otherwise.

  Even if it made him wonder how ready he was for bigger mountains and bigger fires.

  “Anybody unearth the sat radio?” the chief said as he stood. “We’re going to need a second crew.” He raised the lantern that had been at his side to get a better look into the corners of the small, boxy room that had served as a weather station, albeit with equipment upgrades, for almost fifty years.

  “Nothing, Chief,” Rodriguez muttered as he stared hard at his cell phone. “And we’ve got no service.”

  “Of course we’ve got no service. When the comms don’t work...” The chief held out both arms as if the rest of the sentence was completely common sense.

  “We could find something to stabilize him and move him into the engine.” Sutton, one of the older guys on the team, stared out the window. “Or we could take a shot at damping the fire. Rain’s working, but we could add in some firebreaks. Two guys stay here with Blackburn, and the rest of us dig. Then we take him back down, radio when we can and send another crew back up.”

  The crew chief opened the door as a wild gust of wind tipped another pine down, the flames contained and burning slowly at this point. The canopy fire had fizzled out, which was good news. The ground fire was burning, but with a slow spread that the rain had not prevented. That wasn’t terrible news, but it made leaving the area under these conditions a risky move. If the wind shifted the flames, they could lose the weather station or more. Few natural firebreaks existed in this remote area. And if the fire jumped the road, it could spread up the mountain without anything to stop it.

  “Rodriguez, you and Sutton head back to the engine with Blackburn. The rest of you, grab shovels and start digging. We aren’t going for containment, not here and not after this drought. We’ve got to extinguish it.” McKesson urged one of the other guys out of the way. “They’ve got a transfer board. At least something is going right.” The chief disappeared a minute before returning to slide a wood board alongside Sam.

  Before Rodriguez could bend to lift him up by the shoulders to scoot him onto the board, the chief grabbed his jacket. “Before you go, you agree that you don’t leave him behind.”

  “Sure thing, Chief,” Rodriguez said easily. “We’ve got this.”

  The chief shook his head and turned to Sutton. “Nope. If we don’t put this out in five minutes, Blackburn’ll be fretting like a toddler. He’ll insist you come back to help us and I do not want this injured man to be left alone. Do you understand?”

  Sutton saluted. “Count on me, Chief.”

  Since Sam had been quietl
y plotting a way to do exactly that, he was disgruntled when the two men shifted in place to pick him up. Then Rodriguez grunted under his weight and he felt better. Holding his breath as they maneuvered him and the board through the narrow doorway was easy enough.

  He mentally chanted “please don’t drop me” in a continuous loop until they were outside again.

  Watching the smoke and stormy clouds go by before he squeezed his eyes shut against the driving rain was something that Sam would never forget.

  Was it humiliating? A little bit, but more than that, he understood now that the stories he’d been telling at the library weren’t completely accurate. The bears? They hadn’t been anywhere near hurting him. He hadn’t cheated death, not really.

  But tonight, if that tree had fallen differently, if the flames had shifted before they were ready, if the other members of his crew had missed his injury or been caught up in their own accidents, if his ribs were damaged further in the rescue, he could well have died. The twin forces of gravity and Mother Nature had been impossible for him to overcome.

  “Almost there, Blackburn,” Sutton muttered as he motioned with his chin over his shoulder. “We’ll get you warm in two minutes or less.”

  The sarcastic reply that he’d like to know how they intended to accomplish that was on the tip of his tongue.

  The burn of his throat and the noise of the storm convinced him no one needed his attempt at lightening the mood—not yet, anyway.

  No matter how careful they were as they moved, each step the firefighters took was a sharp pain in Sam’s side, so he’d given up on the hope the chief was wrong.

  His ribs were broken.

  But he was alive.

  They deposited the board on the ground next to the engine and carefully lifted him inside to sit in the driver’s seat.

  And as he caught his breath while Rodriguez and Sutton hunted for dry clothing or towels, he could see the faint glow of the light bar on a reserve vehicle headed in their direction. When Ash Kingfisher jumped out of the SUV, red, white and blue lights swirling in the rain, Sam rested his head back against the seat. However he’d done it, Ash Kingfisher was there with the rescue.

  Sam opened the engine door and waved weakly. When Ash trotted over, one hand cupped over his eyes to assess the damage, Sam said, “Tell me you’ve got another engine coming.”

  Ash didn’t react to Sam’s croaking voice except to say, “Right behind me. What happened to you?” Then he waved his hand and trotted back to the rear of the engine.

  Sam watched the three of them confer for half a second, then closed his eyes, relieved that another engine was on the way.

  It didn’t arrive with sirens blaring, but the flashes of light when the second engine eased up alongside the first sent a shot of energy through Sam. Everyone was going to make it out of this fine.

  Both doors opened, a cold wind whistling across the seat as Sam jerked and then covered his rib with a wince.

  “I’m going to take you into town. We don’t have a medic with either company, but the chief’s certain you have busted ribs and a possible concussion.” Ash eased his shoulder under Sam’s with a careful motion. “Sutton will help from here, and Rodriguez is waiting until we get you out to shift up and help.” Ash’s calm stare made it impossible to panic, even though Sam knew it was going to hurt.

  “No fainting jokes,” Sam muttered. He wasn’t sure Ash heard him, and at the first shattering jolt through his midsection, Sam was beyond caring about anyone’s opinion. He didn’t yelp or whimper. Biting through his lip was a possibility, but it was the manly way to suffer. That had to be good enough.

  “I’ve got you, Sam,” Ash said quietly. As Rodriguez moved to lift Sam’s legs, he shook his head. “Walk. Hurts less.” His legs did still work. He could do this with help. Each step was painful, but nothing like hanging upside down over Rodriguez’s shoulder or being jostled at both ends by two guys walking over rough ground.

  “Passenger seat or back seat?” Ash asked as they approached his Expedition. “I could fold down the back if that’s more stable and you lie down.”

  “Passenger.” Sam might regret it, but he didn’t want to roll around the back of the SUV like a bag of potatoes.

  Ash nodded, reached in to lower the back of the seat so Sam would have a solid view of the ceiling upholstery and then helped Sam crawl inside. Before he closed the door, Ash pulled a shock blanket out of the glove box and spread it over Sam.

  As soon as Sam was in, he knew he could relax. He’d done every bit of the hard part. When they made it to the hospital, passing out would be a good thing. They’d put him on a gurney, wheel him inside, and when he woke up again, everything would be better, thanks to X-rays and modern pharmaceuticals.

  When Ash slammed the driver’s door, Sam cursed. “Sorry. I forgot about your head.”

  Sam had, too, thanks to the pain in his ribs. The throbbing picked back up. “No problem.”

  Ash started the SUV, eased over the humps of dirt marking the edge of the gravel road and handed Sam his phone. “I’ll tell you when we’re back in cell range. You need to call your mother.”

  Then Sam watched him wrap both hands tightly around the steering wheel and blessed Ash’s grace under fire. The trip up here from Otter Lake had taken more than an hour, because the engines moved slowly on the curves, hills and unpaved roads. Ash was going to beat their time by a long shot. He was going to beat his best time, too. He turned up the frequency of the windshield wipers and then reached down to aim all the vents at Sam. Since the heat was already pouring out, Sam was sure he’d be covered in sweat by the time they made it to town, but that was fine. Shivers shook him now and then. They had little to do with the temperature.

  “Don’t you go into shock. I’ll have to kill you.” Ash’s lips were grim as he slowed down enough to glance Sam’s direction. “Then your mother will kill me and she’ll go to jail. No one wants that because she’s a nice lady.”

  Sam clenched his teeth until he was sure they weren’t going to chatter. “How does my mother even know?” He had a difficult time understanding the words coming out of his own mouth even though he knew what he meant to say. It was proof of their friendship that Ash understood and answered him.

  “I called her.” Ash shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry. I figure you wish I hadn’t, but Sweetwater’s such a small place. I was afraid she’d hear about it and panic.”

  “So you told her and caused her to panic?” Sam wanted to sit up and frown so hard at Ash that he would remember it forever. Instead, he clenched the phone tightly in his hand and wondered if they were in range yet.

  In his whole career, he’d never once had an injury that required a trip to the hospital. Sprains and bruises, definitely, but this would be the confirmation that his mother always expected that he was lucky to make it home alive.

  A routine trip to perform maintenance at the weather station had turned into this, a rescue and a panicked mother.

  If he got the job in Colorado, how could he take it now, knowing that this was what his mother would remember? And Avery? She didn’t need to step foot in another hospital ever again because she’d done her time.

  “Tell me when I can make the call.” That was all he could do at this point. “And find me some water to drink.”

  His throat was still coated in prickly thorns that speaking set on fire, but he was going to set everyone’s mind at ease as fast as he could.

  Ash reached down into the oversize glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. “Take it easy. No vomit on the upholstery, please.” He took the lid off and held it out. “I thought I was doing the right thing, man.”

  “You definitely did.” Sam carefully sipped as Ash returned his attention to the road. Ash was right. If his mother had heard about the engine crew losing communications, she would have worried.
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  And then if word of the fire burning at the weather station had made it back, she might have added up all the variables and come to the right conclusion, that Sam was in trouble.

  Now he wasn’t, so he could fix this. Then he’d go to the hospital, wake up with the good drugs in his system, and everything would be fine.

  “Try to call.” Ash didn’t look away from the road, and Sam could tell that they’d reached top speed. Gravel was flying. It was hard to anticipate how close they were to the paved road until...

  The hard thump jostled him, bouncing him against the seat and surprising a yelp out of him. Ash cursed and apologized in a long string, but Sam had managed to hold on to the phone. With one more stabilizing sip of water, he said, “Slow down. I’m going to make the call, and if she hears me whine like that, you’re going to be dead anyway.”

  Ash didn’t answer but eased his foot off the gas.

  After Sam caught his breath, he hit Redial on Ash’s phone. It had been two hours since he’d called Sam’s mother, according to what it said on the screen.

  Enough time for her to imagine the worst.

  Since Ash had to have called from the same spot, the last spot his phone could make the call, Sam was relieved his friend had put off delivering the news as long as he could.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AVERY HAD DECIDED the only way to distract Sam’s mother from the fact that it had been more than an hour since she’d talked to Ash was to go ahead with the cooking lesson. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. Checking the clock on the microwave without letting the other two know she was doing so was frustrating, but the worry over what was happening with Sam could escalate quickly.

  Avery had to be strong for all of them. “We should have started cooking lessons sooner.” That way, she could have been depressed and miserable for the past two years...but well fed.

  Since her own mother used half of her cabinets to store fabric samples, things that she’d been employing in her covert business, and Avery had managed to miss since her mother was shoving a plate of scrambled eggs at her every time she turned around, Regina was forced to take the lead today. Avery had thought of the most time-consuming dish she could imagine that would also come in handy someday.