“We hiked up to Luna Lake. I got in an argument with my brother last night. Went to bed broiling mad. Woke up in the middle of the night to the fire and Jake nowhere to be found,” Jackson said.
“You don’t think…” Griffin said, stopping before the rest of the sentence could leave his mouth.
Jackson quickly shook his head. Then, he said, “I don’t know. I don’t want to think that. I only want to find him in one piece—both him and his girlfriend alive. I can chew his ass out later.”
“Makes sense.” Griffin retrieved his canteen and took a long swallow.
Jackson did the same.
“I can’t believe we have MacHugh as our crew supe today,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Shit.”
“I know. I’m not excited by it either. The dude’s a rattlesnake on his best days,” Griffin said. “I wish they’d fire his ass.”
“Oh, you know the department. They’re loyal to a fault and slow to change status quo.” Jackson took another swig of water.
“Yeah, but MacHugh’s a train wreck. I think he stashes those little bottles of booze you get on airplanes in his briefs to make it look like he’s packing heat,” Griffin said, smirking.
Jackson snorted. “Let’s hope he’s not drinking on the job.”
Thanks to Griffin’s stupid comment, he couldn’t help but glance at MacHugh’s crotch. Is that a…? No. I must be seeing things. It’s nothing, he thought before quickly looking away.
A few minutes later, the lookouts tromped in their direction.
After retrieving his Garmin, MacHugh scanned the area. “Wind is still moving east. It looks like the head of the fire is over there.” He pointed. “Here’s where we’ll build the fire line to attack the head. That’s where it seems to be moving the fastest. Each team will start here. Wilson, your team will work along the west side. Callahan, your team will work along the east side.” He swept his hand out. “The anchor point and safe zone will be at the lake.”
“What about contingencies, sir?” Jackson said, eying the light breeze.
“I’m getting to that,” MacHugh snapped. “I’ll be monitoring the weather. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Our escape route is southwest, following the trail. What are you waiting for?” he said, thrusting his hand toward them. “Get to work, people.”
Jackson and the rest of his team—Griffin, Mark Hubbard, Tom Smith, Dan Caldwell, Ano Māhoe, Wang Chen, and Tori Ames—hefted their tools and moved into position. Jackson picked up his chainsaw and yanked the pull to get it running. Then, he began to cut down brush, trees, and fallen logs, creating a fire line around the perimeter of the fire while keeping a safe distance away from the flames. Griffin joined him on the saw line. Hubbard and Smith hefted Pulaskis and Chingaderas, prepping to dig the line and chop stubborn roots. Mahoe and Smith raked away the debris with MacLeods, making a five-foot-wide line. The swampers, Chen and Ames, dragged the brush and other felled debris to the opposite side of the line.
The day proved arduous, but all this is what he trained for. Every fifteen to thirty minutes or so, he would drink some water. Staying hydrated was essential. An early lunchtime food drop and breaks provided them with much-needed fuel.
By noon, the sun beat hot and heavy on his back while the radiant heat from the fire pounded his skin. He was sweltering, sweaty, and filthy, but his stint had barely begun. Each of them looked forward to a twenty-four-hour shift, followed by a break, and then another twenty-four until the fire was contained…unless, of course, they got the fire out sooner. From the looks of it, that didn’t seem possible.
Jackson stayed focused on the task in front of him. This deep in the woods, they had little knowledge of the fire’s progress. All they knew was what the crew supe advised, which hadn’t been much of anything today.
Feeling parched, he set down his saw and reached for his canteen. Taking a long, deep draw, he welcomed the refreshing liquid.
Griffin wandered toward him, water bottle in hand. He cast his gaze to the treetops.
“Huh,” he said. He eyed the horizon. “Wind’s shifted directions. Shit. Why haven’t we received a weather report from MacHugh?”
“He’s probably too busy counting the bottles in his briefs.”
Griffin guffawed.
“You know that was a sick visual to leave me with, right?” Jackson arched an eyebrow.
“I’m just telling it as I see it,” Griffin said, smirking.
Jackson scoffed. “This wind change could be trouble for the McMansions down the hill.”
Griffin nodded. “I’m sure they’ve sent a team to evacuate them if it looks like danger is approaching.”
Jackson nodded. “I’ll be back in a sec. I’ve got to go take a leak.”
He trekked downhill. Right as he unzipped, something caught his awareness a few yards away. He cocked his head and listened.
“Goddamn radio,” someone said. “Command, can you hear me?”
That sounds like MacHugh. Jackson pressed against a tree trunk and listened.
“Shit,” MacHugh said. “Command from Fifty-Nine, do you read me? Goddamn. I’ve been tuned to the wrong channel all day.” He fiddled with the dial of his radio. “Command from Fifty-Nine, can you hear me?”
“Copy that, Fifty-Nine. Go ahead.”
MacHugh, his expression an angry scowl, emerged out from behind the trees.
Jackson slid out of sight.
MacHugh mumbled something into his radio that Jackson didn’t catch and then headed back for the line.
The asshole hasn’t been able to hear anything. How can he be so clueless? He finished his business and headed back into position.
Catching Griffin’s attention, he said, “MacHugh’s been tuned to the wrong frequency all day.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Griffin said.
“Nope. I heard him down the hill, talking to himself. Then, he was able to reach IC.”
“Great,” Griffin said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“I’ll bet he missed the weather report,” Jackson said.
“He’s got eyes,” Griffin said. “Now that he’s on the right channel, he’ll get it, don’t you think?”
“You’d think, but you can never tell with MacHugh. I’m sure he sent out scouts to watch the fire’s progress,” Jackson said, staring in the direction MacHugh had headed. “At least I hope he did.”
As the day progressed, the teams continued to toil. Jackson kept a wary eye on the fire as he worked. Flames licked the crowns of the trees. Burning embers swirled as branches crashed to the ground.
Jackson and his team stayed back a safe distance, working to create their fire line, but that much heat couldn’t be escaped. It radiated like a small sun.
Overhead, a helicopter kept making rounds, dropping water on the fire, probably sourced from Luna Lake.
At 3 pm, Jackson lifted his canteen to his lips for the millionth time that day.
“This one’s really cooking, isn’t it?” Griffin said, standing next to him, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
“No shit,” he said. “I’ll bet it’s no longer a local problem. It’s gone to the feds.”
“Help!” A faint cry beckoned from somewhere south of Jackson.
He paused, cocking his head. “Yo, Grifter. You hear that?”
“Hear what?” Griffin said.
“Listen,” Jackson said.
He and Griffin stilled for a minute.
“Help!” came the cry again from due south.
“Yep, I heard that one,” Griffin said. “Someone’s in trouble.”
Jackson set down his chainsaw and looked around for MacHugh. Where the hell did he go? He lifted his radio to his mouth and said, “Fifty-Nine, from One-Fifty-Seven.” No reply. “Fifty-Nine from One-Fifty-Seven, can you hear me?” He waited a minute before saying, “No response. Break. Command, this is One-Fifty-Seven.”
“One-Fifty-Seven, go ahead,” Menendez said.
“I heard shouts for help down the h
ill. Can’t reach MacHugh. Request permission to check it out.”
“Go ahead. Medics are already en route.”
“Copy that.” Jackson turned toward Griffin. “Let’s go.”
He scrambled down the low-angle slope with Griffin in hot pursuit. Ahead, he spied someone frantically waving her arm. Is that…? He squinted. Shit, it’s Chase. From what Jackson could see through the brush, Chase sat hunched on a small plateau.
His speed increased. Griffin kept up a slow, steady pace.
“Help!” Chase screamed again.
Jackson picked his way through the rubble. A root caught the toe of his boot, and he stumbled. He slid down the hill, catching himself on his right palm.
“Watch out for this section,” he called to Griffin as he shook his smarting hand.
“Duly noted,” Griffin said.
Jackson eyed broken branches and other slide marks near his trajectory. The broken end of a dried branch had drops of blood clinging to it. Damn, that can’t be good. Then, his gaze landed on a prone figure, near Chase. It’s Jake.
“Found my brother,” he called to Griffin as he picked his way to where Chase huddled near Jake.
“I’m calling for Tech Rescue,” Griffin said from farther up the hill.
“Good,” Jackson said.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Chase said, her wide eyes framed by a too-pale complexion. Her clothes were torn and dirty.
Jake lay curled in a ball in the center of a ten-foot clearing at the edge of a cliff. His skin held a sickly yellowish-gray pallor.
“Tell me what happened,” Jackson said, crouching next to Jake. He scanned his brother to ensure he was breathing, and then, let his eyes search for bleeding. Can’t see any blood on this side. I’ll have to turn him over.
“He just took off in the middle of the night. I woke up, and he was gone. I started a search, and then the fire started.” Her face was smudged with dirt. Bloody scrapes covered her cheeks and hands. “I’ve been looking for him for hours. And this awful fire…” Her voice caught as her words trailed off. “I haven’t been able to get him to talk to me, but it looks like he tumbled down this slope. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. He refuses to talk to me,” she said again. “He won’t talk to me, and he won’t open his eyes. He just stays curled up like that. I don’t know what’s going on with him.” Her voice cracked. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
Jackson nodded. “I can deal with Jake, don’t worry. We’ll take good care of him,” he said, sliding into his paramedic-speak. Turning his attention to Jake, he gently shook his shoulder. “Jake, are you okay? Talk to me.”
“Go away,” Jake mumbled.
“No can do, bro,” Jackson said. “I need to examine you. Where do you hurt?”
Jake said nothing.
“Jake, this is important. We need to get you out of here and get some help. You’ve got to work with me for that to happen.”
“Yo, Jackson.” The voice came from further up the hill.
Jackson looked up.
Griffin carefully made his way down the slope and said, “Tech Rescue was deployed. They should be here shortly.”
Jackson nodded and turned his attention back on his brother. “Help’s coming, but let me examine you. Where do you hurt?”
The wind whipped around their heads, swirling dust and debris.
Jake stayed quiet, his eyes glued shut. He took sharp, rapid breaths.
“I know you’re hurting, Jake. Let me help you,” Jackson said. “This is what I’m trained to do.”
Jake’s lips pressed into a tight line. His head made an almost imperceptible shake.
“Jake. Stop dicking around. I need to examine you.” Jackson duck-walked toward his brother’s head and began palpating his scalp. He scanned the ear facing him for signs of fluid, indicative of brain injury. Nothing. Good. “Jake, I need to see the other side of your head. Can you roll over?”
Jake shook his head.
“Where are you injured? Legs?”
Another head shake.
“Arms?”
“No,” Jake whispered.
Goddamn it.
“Griffin, get his legs.”
Griffin’s hands curled around Jake’s ankles.
Jake kicked out, clocking Griffin in the lip.
“Fuck!” Griffin said, falling backward on his butt. He brought up his hand and dabbed at his bloody lip.
Both shame and rage launched through Jackson’s belly. My fucking brother kicked one of my firefighter teammates? Bad move. He gripped his brother’s shoulder.
“Jake! Goddamnit, do we need to get the police up here? I’m no stranger to an ITA call. Do you know what that means, huh? That’s an involuntary treatment and transport done by whatever means possible, even handcuffs. Is that what you want, huh?”
“Jake, baby, let your brother help you. Please,” Chase said. Tears slid down her cheeks.
Jake let out a huge sigh. Slowly, he rolled his body over, revealing the pointed end of a stick protruding through his belly. Blood seeped around the edges.
Jackson kept his calm. “We’ve got to get you out of here, Jake. This is serious. We’re going to leave the stick in until you get to the hospital. We can’t remove it here in the field or we could do some major damage.”
With his eyes still squeezed shut, Jake said, “No, Jackson.”
“Griffin, call Flight of Life Northwest. He’s got to be airlifted out of here.”
“Sure thing,” Griffin said.
While Griffin radioed in the request, Jackson swiftly examined the rest of Jake’s body, determining a possible broken rib, plus various scrapes and contusions. “Jake, look at me. I need to talk to you.”
Jake shook his head.
Goddamn, he’s acting squirrelly. “Jake, I know you’re scared. Anyone could have slid down that ravine. What were you doing way out here? This is quite a ways from our campsite.”
“Look out!” Griffin called, pointing, as a huge flame-covered branch twirled in their direction, caught in the tempest of wind.
Jackson instinctively shielded his brother with his body, being careful not to touch the stick protruding from his gut.
The branch landed a few yards uphill in an explosion of embers.
Jackson peeled away from his brother. Then he looked down. A sick feeling flooded his belly.
Jake stared wide at the dancing flames with pinprick irises.
Jackson knew that look all too well. Jake was high on heroin.
Chapter 30
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Jackson called to Griffin, as flames spread up the slope near his brother and Chase, partially blocking their escape.
“No, shit,” Griffin said, eying the slope.
Jackson looked up to see a Tech Rescue team—a woman with honey-colored hair and a guy with a shaved head—picking their way down the hill, staying far from the flames, medical bags in hand.
Thank god.
“We’ve got a penetrating wound,” Jackson said to the medics as they approached. “Lower left quadrant. Contusions, scrapes, and a possible broken rib. His pulse is rapid and weak. From the looks of it, he’s in hypovolemic shock.”
“Okay,” the woman said. Her embroidered name tag read J. Meyers, PM/FF. She set her medic bag down. “I’m Julie.”
She extended her free hand to Jackson.
Jackson shook her hand. “Jackson.”
“We’ve got it covered, Jackson,” Julie said as she crouched and unzipped her kit. “Danny, tell the team to bring the Stokes equipment. We’ve got to hustle, or our exit will be blocked.”
The guy with the shaved head nodded and began speaking into his radio.
“Looks like he’s on heroin,” Jackson said, practically vomiting the words from his mouth. “He’s an addict. He’s my brother.”
He cringed at the thought of being associated with his loser of a sibling.
He lifted his gaze to check the progress of the blaze. When cutting a fire li
ne, he stayed focused on the job at hand. The only way he tracked the progress of the fire was through communications with the crew sup, which today, had been missing, thanks to MacHugh’s idiocy. From his viewpoint down the hill from where he had been working, he could see the fire spreading wide through the forest.
Flames crackled and swirled, caught in the gusty wind. The tops of the trees were crowned by fire. Burning branches were flung from the trees by the strong wind blowing all around them. Spot fires had crossed their fire line. What started as a mere forest fire was rapidly becoming a firestorm.
His eyes met Griffin. They shared an anxious glance before turning their attention to the task at hand.
“And you are?” Julie said to Chase, who still huddled near Jake.
“The name’s Chase,” she said, standing to extend her hand. “Jake’s my boyfriend.”
Julie shook her hand. “Think you can make it up the hill if these two guys assist you?”
Chase swallowed and nodded.
“I’d let you stay, but we’ve got to move quickly before the fire prevents our escape. I, for one, don’t want to try leaping onto a chopper, do you?” Julie said with a smile.
“No way,” Chase said, shaking her head.
“We already dispatched Flight of Life,” Jackson said. “They’re twenty minutes out.”
“I’ve been listening. All we have to do is get Jake to the makeshift airlift at the top of the hill. A team’s been set up to clear the area.” She turned to Jake and said, “I’m afraid this shirt will have to go. Are you okay with that?”
Eyes squeezed shut, skin covered with a sheen of sweat, barely conscious, he nodded.
“We’ll keep you warm, though, promise.” Julie fished out her trauma shears and sliced Jake’s shirt apart. She peeled the fabric from his body and began packing bandages around the branch protruding from his belly.
As she worked, she said to Jackson and Griffin, “Why don’t you guys help Chase up the hill? Then, you can assist with securing the Stokes basket ropes if they need help. Otherwise, you can get back to your other duties. Thank you.”
Another warm smile crossed her face.
“You got it,” Jackson said. “I’m going to radio up for some assistance with this fire.” He pressed the call button on his radio and requested help. Then, he turned toward Chase and said, “Ready?”
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