Prairie Fire

by Tessa Layne

  Cassie glanced at the fuel gauge. They weren’t that far from the airfield. If there were an outside chance she could evacuate any personnel she’d do it.

  “Mark… Sir,” she corrected herself. “How soon before we can land in the helibase?” She refused to call it a recovery effort just yet.

  “It’s still hot flame. It could be as long as an hour.”

  Cassie’s heart squeezed before plummeting straight to her toes. There was no way those guys could survive that heat for minutes, let alone an hour. “Are you sure?”

  “It would not be safe to fly over the helibase right now.”

  “Roger.” Every cell in her body screamed stay. You did not leave your people on the ground. You certainly did not leave your people on the ground so they could burn to a crisp. She rescued people, dammit. She didn’t fucking recover them. Anger raced up her spine as she banked the helicopter and pointed it in the direction of the airfield.

  Fuck this fire. “Steamboat Tower, this is Guard Copter three-four-six-two-seven inbound for refuel.”

  “Guard Copter three-four-six-two-seven, this is the tower. Cleared to land direct, pad three. Avoid over flight of the active. Contact ground on frequency 97.2,” air traffic responded.

  Cassie tuned in the ground frequency and pushed the nose forward, flying as fast as she could. If there was a time to pray for a miracle, it was now.

  As soon as they’d landed, and were hooked up to the fuel line, Cassie unstrapped and turned to Mark Sheldon. “Now what?”

  “As soon as you’re allowed, keep trying to contact Victor. I’m sure the IC is calling too. We’ll send a medic and litters out as soon as they arrive.” He removed his headset and hopped out of the aircraft.

  The green numbers on the instrument panel clock changed with agonizing slowness. Every second that ticked by was a second longer it would take to rescue anyone who was seriously or critically injured. She sat reliving a text exchange she’d had with Parker. She’d promised she’d have his six, and now chances were he was somewhere on a piece of burning mountaintop hoping to survive.

  She’d promised to have Murph’s six too. She grew sweaty under her flight suit. Now was not the time to relive that disaster. Not while this one was still unfolding.

  “How much longer?” she snapped. Could refueling go any slower?

  “Almost done,” Randi answered.

  As soon as Cassie received the go-ahead wave, she punched on the radio. “Geronimo Crew this is CW3 Grace. How do you read me?” There was a good chance they were too far away for radio communications. Too many ridges stood between the airfield and the helibase, if that’s even where he was. She refused to acknowledge any other possibility.

  The radio remained silent.

  After five minutes she tried again. “CW3 Grace calling Geronimo Crew. Do you copy?”

  Ambulances and first aid trucks began to line up at the edge of the airfield. Best case scenario, they’d be MEDEVACing individuals with smoke inhalation and burns. The local medical center might be able to handle the smoke victims. Burn victims would have to be flown straight to Denver.

  “Randi, let’s pull up the approach to Denver on our kneeboards.” They could at least prepare for a rescue mission while they were stuck on the ground waiting.

  Worst case? She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, pushing the terror out of her mind, willing herself not to think about the worst case.

  If Parker was the worst case, she’d never forgive herself for not giving him an answer. She’d wanted to wait and tell him in person after they’d come home and had a moment to themselves. She’d wanted them to be able to savor a little time alone. She’d even searched B ’n Bs in Manhattan and had inquired about champagne and chocolates. She didn’t normally indulge in romance, but if she was going to accept a proposal from the love of her life, she wanted it to be… significant. Memorable. And she wanted a soft bed, not some patch of uncomfortable hard ground. God, was she destined to be the kiss of death to everyone she loved?

  She snuck a glance at her co-pilot. Randi’s face was screwed up into a scowl. Cassie reached over to the younger woman and gave her an encouraging pat. “It’s not a recovery mission yet.” Her words had never felt more hollow.

  She radioed the AOBD. “This is CW3 Grace. Status update?”

  “Negative. Another ship is reporting the area is still on fire.”

  The anxiety was going to burn a hole in her stomach. “Permission to switch from recon to rescue ops.”

  “Granted. Medical crew arriving shortly.”

  “I’ve already cleared a spot for the litters,” Hatch interjected.

  “Get them on board as soon as you can.” She turned to her co-pilot. “I want you to have the coordinates and frequencies ready for the hospital in Denver with the burn unit. We don’t know what we’re going to find up there, or who is going to need what. I want this to go as smoothly as possible.”

  The AOBD came on again. “I want you and CW Roy to be ready to land at the helibase as soon as I give the go ahead.”

  “Has anyone established communication at the helibase?”

  “Negative. I’ve ordered bucket dumps on the edge of the helibase to help cool it.”

  Damn. For a split second, her hopes had risen. “Do you want me on that sir?”

  “No. I want you on standby to transport any victims to Denver.”

  Cassie appreciated more than anything that Sheldon was working to be as optimistic as she was. She sincerely hoped that things on the ground were different than what they had appeared like in the air.

  “Come on guys, hustle,” Cassie drummed her fingers impatiently against her kneeboard. “What’s taking the medics so long?” Didn’t they know lives were at stake? A wave of crushing despair slammed into her. They couldn’t all be dead. They couldn’t.

  As she waited for the AOBD to give the go ahead, she switched on the intercom. “I’m going to try Victor again.”

  “Roger,” answered Randi.

  Sending out a silent plea to the universe, she radioed again. “Geronimo Crew, this is CW3 Grace. Geronimo crew, do you copy? This is CW3 Grace. Can you hear me?”

  One long minute.

  C’mon. Answer me.

  Then another.

  Hopelessness circled like a panther, ready to devour her.

  Then radio static and a thin voice that cut in and out. “Vic… opy.”

  Her heart slammed into her sternum as excitement surged through her. Next to her Randi squeaked, sitting up taller in her seat.

  “Geronimo Crew this is CW3 Grace. You cut out. Can you tell me where you are?”

  Another heart-stopping minute ticked by.

  More static. “Geron… otshot… overrun.”

  At least someone was alive. And if one person was, hopefully, there were more? But where in the hell were they?”

  She switched frequencies, calling the AOBD. “This is CW3 Grace. Established contact with Victor. Very hard to hear him, but I have a voice.”

  “Where is he?” Sheldon’s voice rose with excitement and relief.

  “Stand by.” For as much good as they were doing, Victor might as well be on the moon.

  “Sit tight. If it’s too hot, you won’t be able to land, and you’ll have to drop the medic from three-hundred feet. Too much risk of reignition. We need to establish better radio contact before anyone moves.”

  Her heart sank, and she blew out a breath in frustration. “Roger.”

  Right now, sitting tight was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to do something. She wanted to put an end to the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness that was crashing in on her from all directions.

  Her crew chief hopped back aboard and grabbed his helmet, giving her an encouraging grin and a thumbs up. Next came two medics with a backboard.

  Suddenly Victor’s voice came through the headset. “CW3 Grace this is Victor with Geronimo. Do you copy?”

  Relief exploded in her chest. “Loud and clear. I’ve never bee
n so happy to hear your voice,” she said with a grin all the way to her ears.

  “Not as happy as I am to hear yours.”

  “Can you give us your location? We are standing by.”

  “Just beyond the helispot.”

  “How many casualties?”

  “Still assessing. We have at least one man down who needs significant medical attention.”

  “Burns?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “How many are with you?” The blood pounded in Cassie’s ears.

  A long pause. “Fourteen.”

  Her stomach flipped. Where were the others? They’d dropped forty men up there this morning. “Do you have contact with the others?”

  This time a longer pause. “Negative.”

  “We’re waiting to be cleared for take-off. We’re inbound for the burn injury. Second aircraft is just behind us to pick up the next 11. Third aircraft is getting ready to retrieve the rest. Hang in there.”

  “Roger.”

  Air traffic crackled in her headset. “Guard Copter three-four-six-two-seven, you are cleared for takeoff.”

  “Roger.” For now, she needed to focus on retrieving the one downed firefighter and delivering him or her to the appropriate medical facility. Details on the rest would emerge soon enough, although she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew for sure Parker and the Prairie crew were safe.

  In less than five minutes they were approaching the helibase. What she saw out the window, sickened her. Blackened forest floor and trees in every direction. Smoke still coming off the trees and ground.

  “I see them,” Hatch said. “There appear to be maybe twenty?”

  Good. Half had survived at least.

  “It looks like maybe two are down.”

  Hopefully, Roy was off her shoulder with another medic team. “Are the medics ready to deploy?”

  “Affirmative,” Hatch answered. “Clipped into the hoist and rappelling in three, two, one. They’re off.”

  This was the most dangerous part. From higher up, the medics were more vulnerable to the wind and could easily start spinning out of control. Once they were down, they’d have another line anchored into the backboard to keep the patient from spinning as Hatch raised the winch.

  A few seconds later Hatch confirmed. “Medics are on the ground. Winching up.”

  As soon as the winch was secured, Cassie began to execute a slow circle. It could be five to ten minutes before the medics had the patient stabilized and ready to be lifted into the aircraft. The smell of smoke permeated the air. Randi began to cough. Cassie could tell her voice would be shot by morning, although a steamy, hot shower would help release some of the smoke they were breathing.

  “Time to grab our patient,” Hatch’s voice cut in.

  She repositioned the craft. “Send down the hoist.”

  “Hoist away.”

  Seconds later Hatch spoke again. “Patient connected, hoisting in three, two, one.”

  It was critical for Cassie to keep the helicopter perfectly stable for the next ten seconds as the winch reeled the medics and patient into the bird. She let out a slow exhale, keeping her grip light on the throttle. Her pelvic floor settled more deeply into her bones. At times like this, she felt at one with the aircraft. Like her arms were simply an extension of the apparatus.

  “Patients and medics aboard and secured.”

  One of the medic’s voices popped into her headset. “This man needs burn attention.”

  “We’ve been cleared to transport any burn victims to Denver. Let me radio the AOBD.”

  Sheldon’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Go ahead.”

  The medic jumped in. “Victim’s red card reads Parker Hansen. Is young male likely under thirty with significant second-degree burns on his hands, forearms, and legs. Patient has lapsed in and out of consciousness. Possible significant smoke inhalation and pulmonary burns. Giving oxygen and IV treatment right now.”

  Cassie’s blood ran cold.

  Her voice sounded like it was in a tunnel. “Prognosis?”

  “How fast can you push this bird?” the medic’s voice asked.

  Oh God, it was Murph all over again, except this time the helicopter hadn’t been shot down, and she still had to fly. Pain streaked down her left arm and leg.

  Cassie, either fly the damned aircraft or transfer the controls. Her flight instructor’s voice from Fort Rucker echoed in her head. Her hand tightened around the cyclic, and for a split second, she froze. Time slowed.

  A heated exchange with Park came back to her. What if you freeze up in the cockpit and you jeopardize your crew?

  I’d never let that happen.

  May not be up to you, darlin’.

  She remembered the look in his eye of quiet encouragement. Sometimes it’s what you do off the battlefield that takes more courage.

  It was like having an out of body experience, the recognition you were no longer able to fly your bird. That you’d jeopardize everyone on board if you continued. And the knowledge that when it was over, your career might be compromised. But better that than falling out of the sky. And if it would save Parker. Give him a fighting chance at survival…

  Breathing out as everything sped up again, for the first time in her career she spoke the words. “You have the controls.”

  Her co-pilot answered as she took hold of the controls, “I have the controls.”

  Cassie’s hands shook as she confirmed relinquishing the controls and she fought to keep her voice even. “You have the controls.”

  It shamed her to admit that she couldn’t fly him to safety. That when it mattered most, her emotions had clouded her ability to do her job. As much as she wanted to fall apart, to let fear and worry overtake her, her mission was to get her patient safely to Denver. Her crew and the patient were relying on her to be absolutely focused on successfully completing her mission. She’d have to rely on the medics to be focused on theirs. Anything personal would have to come later.

  Sheldon’s voice cut through the maelstrom inside her. “Copy that. We’ll notify the burn unit. They’ll be waiting when you land.”

  The cabin stayed eerily quiet the entire flight to Denver. Everyone was focused on Parker. The oppressive silence punctuated only by the most necessary flight communication.

  Soon, but not soon enough for her comfort, Randi executed a tight landing on a small hospital helipad on the outskirts of Denver. Five staff waited at the edge of the helipad with a gurney, ready to take Parker. Everything inside her screamed at her to shut down her aircraft and go with him. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t do anything. That she couldn’t help him survive the next few hours or days. That she didn’t even know the extent of his injuries. It wrecked her that she couldn’t be there for him in the myriad of ways he was there for her every day.

  “Patient away,” Hatch reported.

  “Wait,” Cassie practically shouted as she unstrapped and scrambled out of her seat.

  “Cassie, what are you–”

  Cassie ducked and shouted again, scrambling across the helipad to where the rest of the medical team waited. She didn’t care this was a violation of protocol, she didn’t care what the rumor mill would do to her for this, she had to see him just once. “Wait,” she shouted again, and sprinted to catch the gurney.

  A hot wave of nausea roiled through her and the blood drained from her face, as she looked down at him, eyes bloodshot, face sooty and obscured by the oxygen mask.

  Dread pooled in her gut. She brushed at a lock of his hair. “You’re going to be okay Park. I’ll make sure of it.” She had no idea how, but at the moment she didn’t care. “I love you.” She wasn’t even sure he could hear her. “I love you, Parker. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  “Ma’am,” the medic yanked on her flight suit, his voice sharp.

  She shrugged off his hand, staying rooted to the spot until Parker’s gurney had disappeared. Only then, did she turn and hustle back to her bird.

  Sh
e climbed aboard and met five surprised pairs of eyes. “What?” she barked. “He’s my boyfriend. Anyone who has a problem with that can suck it.” She scrambled back into the cockpit and strapped herself in. She fought back a sob.

  She took a deep breath and focused. Her mission was not over. There were others relying on her. Others who might need airlift. Her training took over, and she resumed control of the aircraft. “This is Guard Copter three-four-six-two-seven departing University of Colorado Denver hospital for Steamboat Springs airfield.”

  Air traffic responded almost immediately. “Guard Copter three-four-six-two-seven remain below seven-hundred feet and fly direct along heading two-hundred seventy-five degrees. Frequency change approved.”

  The ground fell away, and she banked, turning the bird westward, all the while chanting in her head. Please, Parker, be okay. Please, Parker, be okay. Please, Parker, be okay.

  CHAPTER 32

  Cassie paced in the waiting room, taking comfort only in the fact that the vending machine coffee was scalding hot. It burned on the way down, and it might possibly have fried her taste buds. But she didn’t care. This was nothing compared to what Parker had endured.

  She shuddered recounting the horror of the last five days. It had been late the night of the blow up before the IC confirmed Parker and one of the Geronimo hotshots had been seriously injured. Roy had flown the other casualty to the burn center. Twenty-four crewmembers had been treated for moderate smoke inhalation, and surface second degree burns, Tony and Mike among them. Miraculously, everyone survived the burnover. A testament to the crew’s thorough work on the line and in prepping their safety zones.

  “Are you Ms. Grace?” A nurse with a kind face asked.

  She nodded and tightened her grip on the paper cup.

  “He’s settled now. And doing much better.”

  “Can you tell me his prognosis for full recovery?”

  The nurse shook her head, two slashes appearing above her nose. “I’m so sorry.” She shrugged apologetically. “You’re not family, and… HIPPA.”

  Right. Not family. HIPPA.

  That was going to change as soon as she could manage it. She bit back a smart retort. The nurse was only doing her job, and she’d see Parker in a moment anyway. “Which way to his room?”