Facing the Fire

Her heart pumping hard against her ribs, she set the bucket on the ground and looked up. A patch of blazing blue sky peeked through the thrashing pines.

Could there be a fire nearby? Fear crawled down her spine. How would she know? Her cell phone didn’t work out here so she couldn’t call to find out, and no one knew where she was. She listened intently, but the lonely sound drifted away.

She inhaled deeply, but only smelled fresh air and pine. She eased her breath back out. It was just her imagination. Old ghosts. The very memories she’d come here to banish.

She picked up the bucket and carted it into the cabin. Old ghosts or not, she’d better finish quickly and leave.

Cade McKenzie stood in the open doorway of the DC3 and sucked in the smell of burning pine. Below him, black, roiling smoke pierced by huge orange flames rose from the Montana forest and covered the earth with a threatening shadow.

Undaunted, he snapped down his face guard and narrowed his eyes. No matter how formidable the fire, he’d stop it. The steep hills and volatile winds only challenged him more. And he knew the eleven smokejumpers poised behind him felt the same.

The spotter, hanging partway out the door beside him, pulled in his head from the slipstream. “Hold into the wind,” he shouted over the roar of the rushing air. “And stay wide of the fire. It’s gusting bad down low.”

Cade nodded and returned his attention to the fire. They would jump near the heel and contain it first, then split up and secure the flanks. Despite the dry conditions, they could pinch off the head by late tomorrow—unless the wind changed direction and whipped the flames toward Granite Canyon.

His gaze shifted west toward the canyon bordered by a silver ridge. From the air, the dense pines hid the log cabin he knew was nestled beside the boulders. His old cabin, where he’d spent the most intoxicating months of his life—until Jordan decided she couldn’t handle living with a smokejumper and cleared out. A sharp stab of bitterness tightened his gut. Hell of a time to think of his ex-wife.

He forced the old anger aside. She’d raked him over good, all right, but he’d never see her again. She wouldn’t have kept the cabin after all these years. Still, he needed to make sure no one was in there in case the wind switched and the fire jumped the only road out.

“We’re on final.” The spotter scooted back and struck the side of the open door. His adrenaline rising, Cade moved forward into jump position. His jump partner, a rookie from a booster crew out of Boise, pressed in close behind him.

His muscles bunched, his gaze focused on the horizon, he waited for the spotter’s signal. An intense calm settled over him and his mind stilled.

And in that moment, he felt perfectly right. He was doing what he was born for, what he loved.

The spotter slapped his calf hard. His pulse jerked. He thrust himself out of the plane and into the roaring slipstream. And hurtled ninety miles an hour toward the fiery earth.

The wind rose again, swirling the orange flames high and pushing sparks and smoke over the line. Cade cut off his chain saw and lifted his arm to wipe the sweat dripping down his cheeks beneath his hard hat.

Something wasn’t right; he could feel it. But what? They’d secured the heel without problems and begun scratching a line up both flanks. But instead of feeling confident they would slay this dragon, unease slid through his gut. And he’d fought fires for too many years to ignore his instincts.

Unsettled, he strode to the pile of equipment and set down his saw, then pulled his canteen from his personal-gear bag. He drank deeply, letting the warm water soothe his parched throat.

“Hey, Cade.”

His smokejumping bro, Trey Campbell, strolled over. They’d rookied the same year out of Missoula and jumped together ever since. And after Jordan had deserted him, they’d spent more nights than he could remember frequenting Montana’s bars.

Trey rummaged in his own bag and pulled out his water. “Any word on this wind?” he asked.

“No, but it feels like it’s picking up.” He frowned back at the fire. Heavy brush and snags littered the forest floor, fueling the surging flames. The erratic wind kicked up sparks and slopped spot fires over the line.

He recapped his canteen, pulled out his radio and keyed the mike. “Dispatch, this is McKenzie.”

His radio crackled. “Go ahead, McKenzie.”

“Any idea what’s going on with this wind? It’s blowing the hell out of our line.”

Voices murmured in the background. “We’ll call the district for an update,” the dispatcher said. “We’ll get right back to you on that.”

“Thanks.” He stuffed the radio in the side pocket of his bag. “Do you mind taking over for awhile?” he asked Trey. “There’s a cabin by the rim of the canyon I need to check out, make sure there aren’t any people hanging around.” Like his ex-wife? His stomach tightened but he quickly discounted that thought. “They’re going to need a head start getting out of here if that wind shifts.”

“That your old cabin by any chance?”

“Yeah.” Which he’d surrendered to Jordan, along with any illusions he’d ever had about marriage. “After I swing by the cabin, I’ll recon the head again, too. When dispatch gets back with that wind report, we can decide where to build line tonight.”

“Got it.” Trey’s teeth flashed white in his soot-streaked face. He shoved his canteen into his personal-gear bag, picked up his chain saw, and loped back toward the line.

Cade took a final swallow of water, then stuffed his canteen in his own personal-gear bag. He moved a small notebook and compass to the side pocket with the radio, and secured the flap.

A sudden blur in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he glanced up. A blazing snag pitched silently forward, and his heart stopped.

A widow maker. A dead, burning tree that fell without warning, killing anyone in its path. And it was heading straight for their line.

“Watch out,” he shouted. “A snag!”

The men immediately scattered—except for one. His jump partner, the rookie. The kid looked up, then froze.

Oh, hell. Cade lunged to his feet and sprinted forward. The tree toppled closer and his adrenaline surged. With a final burst of speed, he barreled into the rookie and knocked him out of the way.

And was instantly slammed to the ground.

His breath fled as a massive weight crushed his back. He struggled to lift his face from the dirt, but branches covered his head.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. Where was the rookie? He tried to shout, but couldn’t move his mouth.

He shoved against the ground but the branches trapped him. Heat blazed up his back and his adrenaline rose. He pushed again, his efforts futile against the punishing weight.

“Cade! Are you okay? Oh, God. Get him out!”

“We need saws in here,” someone else yelled over the roar. “Hurry up!”

Cade’s eyes burned. He choked down hot smoke and coughed. Heat crawled up his neck and he gasped for breath.

Chain saws wailed and men shouted. The weight shifted slightly and the branches thrashed above him. Then suddenly, they were gone.

He lifted his head and sucked in air. Work boots stood inches from his face, along with green Nomex pants.

“Oh, man,” the rookie said, his voice trembling. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch him.” Trey crouched beside him. “Speak to me, buddy.”

“I’m fine,” Cade managed.

“Are you sure?” the rookie asked. “Man, that was close.”

“Damn close,” Trey said. “He’s lucky the trunk missed him. If he’d been one second slower…”

But he’d escaped, and so had the rookie. “Thanks, guys.” He struggled to push himself upright. Pain knifed his shoulder and he hitched in a ragged breath.