Wildfire on the Skagit

Chapter 1-4

Evan had tried a hard turn while stalling the chute to get clear of the thermal, but it hadn’t let him down in time. He was jerked back aloft and the drop zone was now gone behind him—no way to get it back.

Need alternate landing. You got about ten seconds, Ev.

Down here near the valley floor, the trees were massive. Snagging a tree two hundred feet up was incredibly dangerous. He’d be as likely to collapse the chute and plummet down as to get safely stuck and then lower himself to the ground.

The only places not thick with trees were…mostly on fire.

The tail of the fire didn’t have the towering flames like the ones he’d seen up at the head, but it was still burning outward in all directions despite the lack of driving wind.

He relaxed the steering toggles to get maximum flight distance. The burning edge of the fire gave him some welcome extra lift, but not enough to turn back. Even though the slap of heat punched right through his gear and the smoke stung his eyes, it bought him a hundred feet up and another few seconds of descent.

Past the burning edge, he entered the Black—the burned-out forest that was stark with loss of color. Greens and browns had been stripped away, replaced by black char, tree bark scorched gray, and all wrapped in writhing smoke that made it look like a horror movie set.

The trees still stood, might even still be alive. But without the cushioning smaller branches and foliage—which had all been burned away—the main branches were as brittle and dangerous as blackened spears.

Despite the wind of his passage, there was a silence above the Black. He could hear the trickling of a stream rolling fast over rounded rocks, a glistening silver line in the gray world. The low fires of the tail now crackled a hundred meters behind him.

A landing spot.

Well, not even a spot, more of a narrow slot. A small ridge of rock had kept the big trees clear to either side. The fire had cleared it of brush and saplings.

He was running with the wind. He flew past his new drop zone and did his best not to look at the fast approaching spires of taller trunks on the climbing slope.

Evan yanked down on the parachute’s left steering toggle, initiating a braked flat turn and spun like a top right around the nastiest looking of the still standing trees. Then he dove into the headwind.

As soon as he cleared the leading edge of the opening over the narrow bit of rock, he stalled the parachute hard. The ground rushed up toward him. At the last moment he flared the chute converting most of his speed into lift, and managed to land with just enough impact that he had to do a tuck and roll but was able to regain his feet. A quick twist and he collapsed the chute before it snagged any of the trees.

A voice spoke from close behind him, making him jump.

“You better not have gotten any burn holes in that chute, Rookie, or Chutes will take it out of your hide.” Chutes was the master of MHA’s parachute loft and hell on anyone who packed a chute that was less than perfect.

Evan spun to see Krista standing just two steps away. She must have sprinted the whole way upslope from the drop zone to get here so fast. Winded, though not badly, she wore her hardhat and gripped a well-worn Pulaski in her gloved hands.

“Just thought I’d do a little sightseeing before I started on the fire,” and he turned back to gathering his chute. Soon his heart rate would start coming down. It was always crazy on landing, even on a clean one. Missing the drop zone and nearly eating a smokie-killing tree had pumped his pulse up with a serious dose of adrenaline along the way.

Krista standing so close and grinning at him wasn’t helping.

“Good jump, Rook. That was a really nice save. Could get to like you. Just don’t go off worrying me again without permission.”

“Yes, sir,” he saluted sharply.

“Do I look like a sir?” She cupped her big hands beneath her breasts which were framed by the chest and waist straps of her safety harness. “These aren’t over-muscled pecs, Rook.”

“Wouldn’t know, sir,” he nodded toward her chest. “You haven’t shown them to me.”

She saluted back, but he could tell it was a civilian gesture; and not just because it was made with a middle finger flicked against the brim of her hardhat and a laugh.

Still, Master Sergeant Krista Thorson definitely fit her—military or not. Odd, he knew the background of most of the crew after the three weeks of season-prep and dozens of practice jumps.

He knew nothing about Krista.