Page 102 of From Air

“Alan!” Erin screams.

My gaze shoots to the tree, and I sprint toward his body, dangling five feet from the ground. He’s red in the face, clawing at the suspension line that’s a noose around his neck. Todd and I lift the weight of his body while Erin climbs the tree to help him untangle the line.

We lower him to the ground, and he stares at the sky with shallow, rapid breaths and probably visions of God descending from heaven to take his dumb ass to the pearly gates. We’ve all done something stupid that’s given us a glimpse of the afterlife.

I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn’t state the obvious and make this a learning opportunity for everyone gathered in a circle around Alan. “Always check for lines before you release your harness attachments,” I scold (teach), when I know he will live another day.

He rubs his neck without looking at me. “I was pissed that I didn’t steer clear of the tree, and—”

“Welp, no time to be pissed. There’s still a dozen ways you can die today; let’s focus on avoiding those and put the goddamn fire out.”

After we unload the supply boxes and trek to the fire, I bark orders, feeling out of sorts and on edge, trying to forget about the message on my phone and the member of my crew who tried to be a piñata. “Right here, dig a cup trench.”

“Up either side and tie it off at the top?” Todd finishes for me.

I nod.

Three hours later, we have a completed line, and we break for food. I update dispatch and recheck my phone. No new messages, but I also don’t have any bars.

“You good?” Erin asks. She’s a second-year rookie. A true talent. She’s also the most emotionally in tune with everyone, which isn’t always a good thing in a male-dominated profession of blowhards who pride themselves on not showing emotion. Most of the women keep that shit locked up, too, but not Erin. She can relentlessly tear into the earth with her Pulaski one minute and rock a baby to sleep the next.

“Yup.” I nod several times, but I don’t make eye contact.

Everyone chuckles when I pull out my favorite snack, a frozen bean-and-rice burrito. It’s good and warm by the time I get a chance to eat it.

I find a believable smile to give them before getting back to business. “We need to get the burning snag down. Todd and I have the crosscut. You two make the bed.”

As soon as our break ends, we return to work, felling the burning snag, throwing dirt on it, and tearing it apart.

“Dispatch said we’ll be picked up at oh seven hundred. Grab dinner, and get some sleep. We’ll be up early for another check, gearing up, and a four-mile hike to the helispot.”

Todd, Alan, and Erin share stories during dinner. I stare at my phone and play every scenario in my head. Where was Jaymes attacked? Why? And why wouldn’t she want me to know?

By 0500, we’re grabbing food and checking for hot spots.

“You good?” Todd asks.

“Jesus, I’m fine. Should I make a public announcement?” I pack the tools.

“So you’re not good. That’s all you need to say.”

I feel his gaze on me, but I don’t have the time or patience to make him feel okay about asking me anything.

After we get picked up, I muster as much professionalism as possible to discuss everyone’s performance, which was good. If there is such a thing as textbook, this was it.

An hour later, we’re back at the base for a shower, and all personnel gather for a debrief.

“Go.” Gary grabs my arm before I take a seat.

I narrow my eyes.

“Do you know about Jamie? Her friend messaged Evette this morning.”

After a beat, I nod.

“Then go. Take whatever time you need.”

“I’m fine. I’ll text her after we finish.” I pull away from his hold.

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