Wildfire Smokejumper Trilogy

Chapter 8-2

Akbar was hunched over a breakfast of a tall stack of Betsy’s killer blueberry pancakes, ham, and two eggs over easy. It was about what the other smokies who’d struggled out of their bunks were eating. Most of them were up and about except for the real sluggards who could sleep twelve hours at a stretch with little motivation. It was actually early afternoon lunch time, but Betsy was great about shifting meals to match when people woke up.

The picnic tables that were MHA’s main gathering area were comfortable from the warming of the morning sun, but shielded from the midday heat by the kitchen and equipment buildings to the south. In the afternoon, the tall Doug firs to the west would offer sun-dappled shade. It was a good place to be.

They’d just come off two days on a fire, a small but intense blaze in northern California. They’d trapped it between a lake and a community that had actually maintained their urban-forest interface. They’d lost a couple of garden sheds, but no homes. A job well done and the local engine company had taken over yesterday shortly before dark.

Now they were up and relaxed. Ox was teasing Chas about not benching his own body weight when he did workouts; the fact that he could do more reps of a hundred pounds than Ox could was casually waved aside as meaningless. Krista and Tim were trying to get together a volleyball game for after breakfast, lunch, or whatever this was.

Akbar was enjoying the scene. He wished Laura was here. It was one of those good moments. The crew was rested, sitting easy. There’d been no injuries all season worse than Chas’ sprained ankle and wrist. No bad burns at all. And they’d been able to respond to almost eighty percent of the fires they were called on—only a twenty percent “unable to be filled” rate. There were never enough resources and it wasn’t at all unusual to be requested to a fire when the team was already deeply involved in another one. But only missing twenty percent meant they were kicking a*s this season, in 2012 the UTF was over forty-five percent.

He looked around to assess the team. MHA kept a dozen of them year-round, which was very unusual. With most outfits, he’d have been lucky to keep Tim, Krista, and Ox full-time. But even his newest seasonal firefighter had five years on the line and two years jumping smoke. MHA’s salaries and up-to-date equipment attracted the very best. Damn good crew.

Rumor had it that they’d be jumping Australia for a couple months this winter, which could be a nice change. Part of the price to keep them full-time, they’d have to travel to where the fires were. Maybe Laura could fly in for part of that and they could dive the Great Barrier Reef together or something like that.

Yeah, right. Long range plans with a woman. He could feel himself screwing up no matter how he was fighting against his own worst nature. Someday soon the most amazing woman he’d ever met would lower the boom on his sorry head. He’d deserve it too. He was clueless how to really do this and he knew it.

He forced himself to keep eating, he desperately needed the calories after two days on the fire line, but he wasn’t enjoying it any longer. Why did things go sour every time he thought of her?

Like that stupid horse of hers. Every time he saw Mister Ed, he imagined how Laura looked riding him; that easy, confidant sway of a truly skilled rider. She made many things look easy, but her work with the horse was flawless. But no matter what good thoughts he tried to raise each time he looked at Mister Ed, the horse knew he didn’t have his s**t together.

A sharp whoosh and buzz overhead had most of the smokies glancing upward. Steve’s drone launched and shot by overhead, then turned sharply south. Most returned to their breakfast, barely breaking their conversation.

Akbar glanced around. No Steve of course, he’d be at the drone’s controls in his truck parked by the launcher. Might be a fire, might be a Search-and-Rescue, might be an equipment test.

No Carly at any of the tables either. Was she keeping her fiancé company or was she with him because there might be a fire?

No Henderson.

Akbar rose to his feet, took his tray to the wash bins. He rolled the remains of two pancakes around the ham and eggs like a massive and sloppy burrito. He trapped it between English muffins for a handhold, and headed over to Steve’s control trailer. He did his best to appear casual to not alarm the others just in case it was nothing.

Around the backside of the bunkhouse where Steve kept his drone’s service truck and launch trailer parked, they were all clustered together: Steve in the truck at his controls, Carly, Mark, TJ, and Emily grouped at the tailgate. They were waiting…waiting for the drone to get where it was going.

Akbar sidled up to the group, “What’s happening?” He knew that if he asked, “What’s up?” someone was bound to gaze uncertainly overhead and reply, “Blue sky.” One of the many legacies he’d managed to instill in the MHA lexicon of humor. He took a big bite of his pancake burrito and managed not to wear any of the egg that was dripping out the back end and onto the grass.

Henderson answered him. “We got a badly broken radio report of a fire up on Mount Hood. Southwest we think. Rangers haven’t reported anything yet. Steve’s sending a drone to check it out.”

Akbar felt his blood run a little cold. “Southwest?”

“Maybe she said west. It was hard to tell.”

“She?” That cold chill turned into a deep freeze. Laura was leading a group ride today. They were supposed to overnight near the timberline on the West side. “Was it Laura?”

“Laura?” Henderson searched around a bit. “Oh, is that the lady who gave you the smacker of a kiss on the line the other day?”

“That’s her.”

Henderson shrugged. “You don’t introduce me to a beautiful woman, I’m not going to recognize her voice. It was almost all static anyway. She sounded calm.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Akbar thought about it. Laura always sounded calm, even the few times he’d caught her red-eyed and choked up—something she’d never explained. And he’d been dumb enough to not ask about it the second time after the way she refused to explain it the first time. His policy was not to question crying women, ever. But for Laura he should have. Next time he would.

He chucked the rest of his meal in a handy garbage can and tried to settle in to wait. At ninety miles an hour, it took the drone over ten minutes to swing around Mount Hood’s flank.

“We definitely have a fire,” Steve announced.

“Where’s Laura?”

“I don’t even know where the fire is yet. Give me a minute.” Steve kept one of his monitors twisted to the side so that they could see it as they crowded around the tailgate. The sides of Mount Hood were practically corrugated by long ridges running from peak to valley all around its slopes.

The smoke was spreading along either side of a long canyon that separated two long ridges. That was good. It meant there’d be water they could pump right from the stream running down the center of the canyon.

“You’ve got to find Laura,” he told Steve.

Steve tapped quickly at some keys, “There, I’ve configured the drone as a relay.” He handed a microphone to Henderson, but Akbar grabbed it without bothering to ask or apologize.

“Laura, this is Johnny.” He ignored the surprised looks the others aimed his way. “Can you hear me, over?”