Wildfire Smokejumper Trilogy

Chapter 12-2

Laura had both of her hoses running and was glad that she’d put down the money for the higher-powered well pump. She’d merely thought to save time when filling the horses’ watering trough. Now she held the two nozzles side by side and swept them up and down the side of the log cabin and soaked the perimeter ground—both grass and planting beds.

A glance over her shoulder showed the two columns of smoke merging into one larger one. In the growing light she could see that they weren’t as black as she’d first thought. But they had been. As black as…

Arsonist. The word finally snuck back into her memory. As black as a gasoline fire. By the size of the explosions, a lot of gasoline. And the smoke was changing color as it began burning the forest.

Had whoever lit the fire even known her cabin was here? It was well hidden.

Arsonist. It was a hell of an odd word to have in a marriage proposal. She felt absolutely ridiculous to be standing here in full firefighter’s gear, spraying her home to protect it from a lunatic’s fire. That she was also grinning like an i***t really put her sanity in question.

The woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with. That so worked for her. She was head over heels gone on her charging knight in Nomex yellow. She hoped that he understood her smile was the loudest yes that she’d been able to give at the moment. His proposal had simply filled her too much for any words.

The smoke had spread wide across the morning sky by the time she’d sprayed down the closest side of the log cabin and yard. She started back down the length to soak it more thoroughly when she heard the little lawnmower sound of the drone, followed shortly by the thudding beat of a helicopter arriving overhead.

She’d come to appreciate that sound deeply.

Now they could help Johnny fight the fire. She looked all around the clearing, but could see no sign of him. She considered radioing him to see where he was, but didn’t want to interrupt him wherever he had gotten to.

* * * *

Akbar dialed down the volume on his radio as he moved from tree to tree through the forest. The fire was still so newly started that there wasn’t a “black” yet where the fire had burned and left behind nothing but char. He skirted the trailing edge of the fire seeking the origin, letting the fire’s roar mask any sounds he made. It wasn’t the full-throated freight train of a monster fire yet, but it was definitely up to accelerating semi-truck. A whole line of them.

Please. Please. Please, let the arsonist still be here admiring his handiwork. According to his training, that was not the least unusual. They craved the fire and wanted to watch it burn. He didn’t know what he’d do when he found the guy, but the Pulaski fire axe felt good and solid in Akbar’s hand.

Whatever accelerant the bastard had used to start the blaze had been a powerful one. Gasoline fit the profile.

He stopped beside a couple of white-barked aspens.

The Fire Marshall’s report had identified gasoline as the accelerant at the four-point origin of the Zigzag fire.

If it was the same arsonist, what else did the two fires have in common?

Shit! He’d been so stupid.

He turned and sprinted back toward the cabin hugging the encircling fire as closely as he dared to find the shortest route back.

The only other common factor between the two fires was Laura.