by Grey, Helen
The living wall of fire would suddenly get what it needed and would surge downward. It wouldn’t move as fast as if it were moving up slope, but faster than we could walk, that was for sure.
“Let’s get going then,” I said, gesturing with my chin. “If the wind picks up, we’re going to be in big trouble.”
Then, as I watched and much to my dismay, the fire headed downhill, as if an invisible hand just shoved it downward. My eyes widened and I steeled myself. So did Matt. We looked at the group of kids and quickly made our way back to the group.
“We have to hurry,” Matt told them grimly. “The fire’s coming this way.” He eyed the two adults. “You keep those kids moving as fast as you can. Got it?”
Balding Guy nodded, his expression determined now. Skinny Dude paled.
“We have a chopper waiting for us at the bottom,” Matt explained, gesturing toward Bethany. “It can take her, maybe some of you, but if it can’t, the rest of us are going to have to go the rest of the way on foot.”
Skinny Dude began to protest. Balding Guy turned to him and snapped. “Shut the hell up, Sam. Let’s just get moving, shall we?”
With that, we once again headed down slope. Bethany started to cry, but Balding Guy tried to soothe her. I heard one of the boys cursing as we all scrambled down the slight incline leading out of the valley. Other than that, the kids moved as quickly as possible while watching where they stepped.
Matt led the way, swiftly and surely. The next campsite we reached was also abandoned, although the detritus of what I assumed had been hunters could be seen near the edges of the camp. A gutted deer, minus its antlers. One of the kids eyed it, gagged and then dry retched, complaining about the smell, but then turned away.
“Go on, Matt,” I called to the front of the line. “I’ll check the perimeter just to make sure!”
He nodded and kept moving, the others following behind. I completed a quick sweep of the camp, looking into the trees, checking for signs of fresh footprints, but saw nothing that indicated anyone had been here in a couple of days. Splotches of blood from the gutting of the deer had dried and congealed. I wrinkled my nose and felt my stomach turn at the sight of the pile of twisted, dried deer intestines and other internal organs dumped into a pile just outside the perimeter of the camp. I shook my head. The hunters must not be very experienced, leaving that pile of deer innards and the carcass so close to camp. Why not just post an invitation to every bear in the area to come and get it?
A gust of wind whipped past my face, bringing with it the strong smell of fire. And heat. I glanced up slope, my eyes widening in alarm. Oh God… I quickly hurried to catch up with the others, past them and hurried to join Matt at the front of the line.
“We’ve got to hurry, Matt,” I hissed. “The fire’s sweeping down the slope. Fast.”
He nodded, and without looking back, took my word for it. He quickened his pace even more. I waited for the others to pass, the kids now looking truly frightened, every expression of bravado wiped from their faces.
They smelled the fire. They felt the heat. They saw the embers floating in the air. As Balding Guy passed me, grunting with effort as he carried Bethany, I saw the sweat on his face, reddened from exertion. He gasped for breath at every step. Right behind him was Skinny Dude. I pulled him aside.
“Your friend’s going to have a heart attack if you don’t help him. Take Bethany the rest of the way.” He looked at me as if I had grown two heads. “Do it,” I told him. He glanced down at the ground, and then nodded.
“Jerry,” he said, catching up with his friend. “Come on, let me carry her for a while…”
I brought up the rear, urging the others forward. The smell of smoke grew heavier, the air thicker with ash. Some distance behind us, I heard the snap of flames. My God, how fast was the fire traveling? Just when I thought the entire group would collapse to the ground in exhaustion, we reached the last camp. Abandoned.
Down the trail about three hundred yards or so away, I saw the clearing. Ahead of me, Matt spoke into his walkie. In a matter of minutes, I heard the whomp whomp of a chopper heading around the side of the mountain, its rotating blades and engine echoing against the hills.
The boys started to gesture with excitement, pointing. Balding Guy nearly cried in relief. The other girl walked beside Skinny Dude and Bethany, clasping her hand. It had been a harrowing trip down the valley.
With tremendous relief, I watched as the helicopter rounded the bend in the mountain. It was a rescue chopper, the side door already open and ready to lower a Stokes basket. It just might be large enough to take the rest of the group with them. Maybe.
The group erupted with a burst of energy when they saw the chopper. Even Skinny Dude seemed to experience a burst of energy at the sight of possible rescue. Adrenaline.
In a matter of minutes, we stood at the edges of the clearing. One of the chopper crew lowered himself on a pulley, disengaged his harness as the chopper hovered overhead, and quickly hurried over to Matt. They spoke loudly over the sound of the whirring blades of the chopper, kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris, but I couldn’t hear what they said.
The chopper crew-member looked in Bethany’s direction as Skinny Dude lowered her to the ground. She managed to stand, her weight balanced on her good foot. The crew-member stepped toward her, asked her a question or two and then nodded. Placing his arm around her shoulders, he helped her make her way beneath the chopper.
I understood what he was going to do as he placed an additional belt harness attached to the cable with several straps and clips. He arranged the harness around her waist. In a matter of moments, he had harnessed Bethany to his own harness and then gave a thumbs-up signal to the pilot.
Up they went, the line pulling them off the ground amidst Bethany’s squeals and the laughter of the boys. As soon as she disappeared inside, the crew-member was lowered by the cable again.
Matt moved to stand beside me. “They’re going to take them all, but they don’t have room for us,” he shouted above the chopping blades.” He turned his back to the chopper, taking the brunt of the debris kicked up by the blades onto his back. I did likewise.
“We have another campsite to check anyway!” I shouted up at him. I saw the expression on his face. Weariness. Relief. And something else. He looked down at me, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.
We stood watching as the others were lifted into the chopper one at a time. Skinny Dude guy went up after the kids, then it would be Balding Guy’s turn. As the chopper crew-member began his last descent and prepared to put him into a harness, Balding Guy turned to us, smiled, and gave us a thumbs up. Then, like that, they were gone. The entire evac had taken less than ten minutes.
Matt and I were alone again. Fire sweeping down slope, the wind gusting, whipping the flames into a frenzy. At this moment, all I could think about was the look in Matt’s eyes as he looked down at me. Then, the moment passed.
The buffeting winds would likely prevent any more choppers from venturing into the valley. We both knew it. But we also knew we had to complete our assignment. We had to check the last campsite.
“Let’s do it and then get the hell out of here.”
I looked over my shoulder, saw the flames steadily making their way down slope, and could only pray that we could stay ahead of the fire. If we got trapped in that box canyon where the last campsite was located, we’d be in a shitload of trouble with no way out.
Chapter 4
As soon as the chopper dust cleared, Matt and I quickly headed downstream toward the last campsite, tucked into a box canyon. The wind was gusting harder now, probably between thirty and thirty-five miles an hour, with even stronger gusts that pushed the flames down slope at the head of the valley. The fire was traveling fast.
I saw one of the larger air tankers flying low overhead, dropping a load of flame retardant. The reddish orange chemical sifted through the air so close that I could smell it. Our clothes were soon covered with
a faint dusting of it.
We walked quickly, Matt in the lead. After a few hundred yards, he paused, pulled the map from his pant pocket, and once again studied it. “The trailhead leading up into the box canyon should be close, maybe a quarter mile or just a little further,” he said, coughing a few times.
I glanced back over my shoulder at the flames. A helicopter in the distance dumped a bucket of water. I didn’t much like the idea of heading into a box canyon because there was only one way out. I mentioned as much to Matt.
“I know, Jesse, but we’ve got a check that last campground. They were all supposed to be empty, but we can’t take the chance.”
“I know, but I still don’t like it,” I said. “The damned wind has kicked up. You see how fast it’s pushing the fire. If this keeps up, we probably have less than an hour before things start to get a little dicey.”
He nodded in agreement and then turned and continued on. I followed, watching where I stepped, but at the same time keeping one eye on Matt. I couldn’t help but once again admire his physique. Even with the backpack, I sensed, no imagined really, the shifting of muscles in his back, his tight, trimmed waistline, the way his ass moved every time he took a step. I felt it nearly unquenchable urge to reach out and squeeze that ass, but resisted. This was not the time, nor the place. I don’t even know where that flash of humor had come from. The situation I found myself in was anything but humorous.
I need to focus on the task at hand; get up into that box canyon, make sure the campsite was indeed abandoned, and then get the hell out of here. I could imagine that the Hotshots and other fire crews were scrambling to reposition themselves with the change in wind direction and speed. If the gusts grew worse, the helicopters would not be able to fly. The air tankers dispersing chemicals might even be grounded. It was incredibly difficult to gauge where to release chemicals when the wind was gusting like this.
Timing was everything. Timing, effort, and a lot of money to load the planes with their fire retardant cargo was a tricky endeavor. Despite the urgency of the situation, the bigwigs would hesitate to spend thousands of dollars on fuel, fire retardant, manpower, and everything else when chances were that the retardant wouldn’t end up where it was supposed to anyway.
Matt walk quickly, and I had to take every two steps for his one. Day after day of firefighting had taken its toll on my muscles. I tried to ignore the ache that I felt deep in my bones. Matt was just as tired as I was, but we had a job to do.
“There,” he said over his shoulder.
I looked past him and saw the small sign post marking the trailhead leading into Elder Box Canyon. We quickly turned away from the stream and headed up an incline, following the trail along the north side of the canyon’s edge. Within fifty yards, the trail rose steeply. We entered the canyon, the trail we followed abutting the massive rock face. At this point, the canyon was maybe sixty yards across. The opposite face was studded with rocks, boulders, with aspen, fir, and elder scattered anywhere it could take root.
The walls were so steep and high that even if there had been no fire, no smoke choking the sky, the sun would have difficulty shining down into the bottom of the canyon until about noon every day. My right shoulder brushed against the rocks much of the time, while to my left, a steep slope dropped to the canyon floor, dotted with scrub brush, trees, and more rocks.
It seemed an unlikely location for a campsite, but we hadn’t gone that far up yet. Just then, Matt paused and turned to me.
“Does that brochure provided an idea of how far up the canyon the campsite is situated?”
I quickly pulled the brochure for my leg pocket and opened it. I stepped closer to him so that we could both look at it. I pointed out the box canyon. “Crap, the campsite looks like it’s further up, near the top.” I glanced up, scanning the canyon walls. “Maybe there’s a meadow up there.”
Matt looked quickly up, then toward the base of the canyon, shaking his head. I knew what he was thinking. The smoke was getting thicker, heavier, and darker. Then he glanced down at me with a frown. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I had an idea. This might be close.
We continued to climb. I marveled at Matt’s stamina as the incline increased still more. Surely, his legs were burning like mine. I heard him breathing heavily, and I tried not to start panting with exertion. On any other day, this might’ve been a lovely hike to the top of the box canyon, but at this moment, it was neither lovely nor panoramic. It was hell.
The location of this campsite was certainly not meant for novices or kids. The trail along the side of the canyon was often treacherous, and Matt and I were extremely careful to watch our footing. Still, areas of the trail shifted from hard packed dirt to loose shale chips, making stability difficult.
I lost track of time. I don’t think we had been in the canyon very long, because Matt had set a pretty brisk pace for us, but the minutes seemed to drag on. Perhaps it was my fatigued muscles, my near complete exhaustion from days of vigorous activity, or perhaps just the steepness of the incline up along the side of the canyon. It didn’t really matter. All I was focused on was finishing the climb, checking the campsite, and making sure it was abandoned. Coming back down the canyon would be so much easier, as it was downhill most of the way.
I felt every step now. Every step produced a burning knot in my calf muscle. My thighs burned and cramped, my hips grew stiff and achy. I had to lean slightly forward to shift the weight of the backpack forward of my center of gravity, and before long my lower back and shoulders began to protest the position. Finally, just when I was about to call uncle and tell Matt that I needed to rest a moment, we suddenly topped the incline and found ourselves at the head of the canyon.
“Wow,” I said, catching my breath. Despite my exhaustion, I was amazed at the beauty that opened up before me. As I had figured, a meadow opened up before us, surrounded by trees. Above the tree line steep, rocky canyon walls shot upward another hundred feet or so. If it wasn’t for the site of the light blue Porta Potty situated half-shaded near one edge of the meadow, I could’ve sworn I had stepped back in time.
We continued forward, and although we didn’t see any tents or any signs of life, I knew Matt wanted to check the remains of campfires that dotted the meadow. They were old. To be on the safe side, he bent down at each one and pressed his palm into the center.
“Good,” he said after checking the last one. “No one’s been here for a while.”
I glanced up at him as he cast his gaze once more over the area. Despite the situation, my body once again betrayed my desire for him. Maybe it was the danger of the oncoming fire that made me desire him so much at this instant. That instinct for survival, procreation, of clutching another human body close to your own. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the feelings that burgeoned inside me were intense.
He looked down at me at that instant, and I knew instinctively that he knew what I was thinking. His gaze swept over my face, then down along my body. His pupils dilated and I could tell that he was likely thinking the same thing. He grinned.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said.
I offered a half laugh. “Oh I’m thinking about it, but I know we have to get out of here.” I glanced upward. Black smoke roiled over the top of the canyon walls. My heart began to flood in alarm. Could the fire be that close? Could it have traveled that fast? Sheltered as we were in the canyon, we didn’t feel much of the wind, but if it was gusting up there, pushing the flames…
“Come on, Jesse, let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
He turned and headed back for the trail that had brought us up here. At this point, we were probably one hundred feet or so above the bottom of the canyon floor. Here, the walls stood only a short distance, maybe thirty yards, but not much more.
I had no idea what time it was, how much time we had spent from the time we headed down the trail head at the top of Aspen Valley to the point we found ourselves now. All I knew was that I was dog tired. I wanted to l
ay down and rest, but at the same time, I didn’t want to die.
About a quarter of the way back down the trail, we once again came to a spot where the trail was nothing but loose bits of shale rock. Despite my efforts to watch my step and keep my balance, I inadvertently stepped on a stone. In trying to protect my foot, I shifted my balance, which caused by left shoulder to bounce against the rock face. I tried to correct my balance by making a little hopping step with the same foot that had stepped on the stone. The problem was that my foot came down on yet more loose rock, and before I knew it, the ground had shifted beneath my weight.
I let out a startled gasp, trying desperately to catch my balance. The trail here was on a steep incline. I reached my left hand out to try to grab against the rock face, but there was nothing to grab on to. It was smooth, slick, and hard.
Matt heard my intake of breath and quickly glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened in alarm as I began to teeter. He spun around and tried to reach out for me as I extended my hand toward his, knowing that his strength was enough to keep me from tottering over the edge. Too late.
My momentum pulled my hand from his grasp.
With a cry of alarm and disbelief, I felt myself falling as I went over the edge.
“Jesse!”
I only saw one more brief flash of Matt’s horrified expression as I went over. I saw the smoke-filled sky as I landed on my right shoulder, hard. A cry of pain shot past my lips, and the next instant I was face down, skidding down the slope. I crashed into a rock, thought that I would stop, but then the rock gave way with my weight and momentum and down I went again.
Shit!
My heart pounded and I grabbed desperately with my hands, striving to catch onto anything that would halt my plunging descent. The slope was at a steep sixty-degree angle, so I could do little to halt my speed while gravity, my weight, and momentum propelled me downward.
