Page 14 of Smokin' Situation

Baker: No, but I’m bored as fuck and want to feel useful. You better get your ass up here soyoucan directtraffic, probie.

Tripp: Fuck off. Thanks for reminding me how low I am in the ranks.

Baker: No problem. Now get your ass in gear, bitch boy.

Choosing not to react, I finished getting myself ready, hopping into my truck and pulling up the location pin that had been sent to my phone before I took the access road from the back side of the ranch to the highway.

Heading north of town, the roads were quiet; the sun hovering low behind the trees, an ominous orange haze hovering across the pavement. The wind had picked up overnight, rustling the trees and making the windows in my truck vibrate in the frame. While it’d helped bring down the uncharacteristic sweltering temperatures we’d had lately, it was only going to make containing this fire more difficult.

Under normal circumstances it was a bad time of year for wildfire, but with the lack of rain, higher than normal temperatures, and now the wind gusts that were strong enough to shake my truck while I was driving, I did not have a good feeling about this. There were certain instincts you honed as a specialty firefighter, and reading the environmental conditions was something I’d learned a long time ago. Things were about to get very real about my new assignment.

Tristan

Pullingontotheshoulder,I eyed the line of cars along the side of the road and then craned my neck to the side to see above the skyline through the windshield. A winding column of smoke was visible in the distance and my training kicked in, calculating the risk of where we were located and the distance to the fire.

It didn’t appear to be very large yet, but that didn’t mean shit when you were dealing with an uncontained blaze and the high winds that hadn’t improved as I ascended the mountain pass.

Climbing out, I shoved my phone in my pocket and filled my cargo pockets with two bottles of water and my compass.

Since I wasn’t cleared for interior work, I doubted the Chief would let me go up with the ground crew that was likely up on the ridge working containment.

We were still a few miles outside of town, but there were acres and acres of kindling in between that could go up in the blink of an eye. I was hoping the natural barriers of the river and the reservoir south of the ridge would help us keep it from jumping the road, but nature didn’t always like to play by the rules.

“Officer Harding, glad to see the alert system works.” The Chief nodded as I hiked up the remaining incline and ducked underneath the flap of the temporary pop-up shelter they’d set up on the gravel shoulder of the road.

“Where do you need me?” There was no point in beating around the bush or trying to convince him I needed to be on the groundcrew. He’d made his stance clear during my initial interview; he thought I was a liability until I proved otherwise.

It didn’t matter that I had more extensive field training than almost every single officer in the department, including him. Once that PTSD label had been slapped on my file, it took away the one thing in my life I’d worked literally decades to achieve. But the only thing I could do to prove myself was to keep showing up. To deal with whatever he threw at me and say thank you with a smile. And hope that I didn’t have a panic attack while on duty that would put the final nail in the coffin of my calling to be a firefighter.

“Baker and Rhodes are running the current motorist barricades, and I have another crew setting up detour signs before the turnoff for the pass that’ll keep traffic from getting up here. We’ll need some guys south of the ridge to direct traffic if we end up requiring an evacuation, but right now I could use someone to do gear checks on the supply rig. Go with Officer Ford and he’ll show you what I need done.”

“On it,” I nodded, following an officer almost a decade younger than me toward the mobile supply unit that’d stay close to where the fire containment crew was working. We spent over an hour checking valves, filling tanks and making sure that the ground crew could quickly grab any supplies they needed. It was busy work at its finest, but it was better than sitting on the ranch feeling useless.

At one point, we all donned particulate masks because the wind changed directions and started raining down ash particles on where we were located. But I just put my head down and focused on what I could do, helping fill in the supplies that’d save other officers time in an emergency. Every fiber of my being wanted to be up that mountain surrounded by smoke, figuring out how to run a containment line, but that wasn’t my life anymore.

After what felt like forever, but was really a few hours, the Chief pulled us all to where the pop-up shelter had now been broken down and loaded into the back of a department pickup truck headed toward town.

“We’re going to swap crews and push back to the barriers. The high winds are reducing visibility and we’re going to have to enact an evacuation zone. Lake County crews are coming at the fire from the north, but the wind is causing spot fires to crop up outside the containment zone. It’s better to be safe than sorry, so we need to get the civilians most at risk out of the way while we can do it easily.”

He barked orders to different crews, and the crowd thinned out quickly, officers springing into action for their assignments. Baker took off for one of the emergency rigs, ready to start residential evacuations north of the pass, but I knew his job wouldn’t be an easy one. There were rentals all over the mountain, some up winding sparsely accessible roads, so it wasn’t like your typical urban evacuation where you just went house to house and banged on doors. This was driving into remote areas, not knowing who or what you’d be encountering.

“Harding, I want you to head back to town. I need you rested in case we need to call the volunteer crew back in to assist,” Chief explained, clamping his large hand on my shoulder. Fighting the urge to wince as it set off a cascade of nerve pain down my back, I nodded, knowing I needed to stay on his good side to prove myself.

“Yes, sir.”

“I know you want to be up there, but I’m sure the Wests could use you at the ranch right now to get things prepped in case we need to do a town-wide evacuation. They’ll appreciate your experience if it comes to that.”

Gritting my teeth, I tried to resist the urge to plead my case, knowing that it didn’t matter what I thought I was ready for. He was the one calling the shots, and he thought he was doing what he needed to do to ensure the safety of his department and of the residents we were duty bound to protect.

Didn’t make it suck any less. And it certainly didn’t make me feel any less useless than I had since I’d woken up in the hospital four and a half months ago knowing my life as it had been was over.

“Marty would be fine with me staying out here to help where I’m needed. I know you can’t send me up to the fire, but surely there are other things I can do around here or back at the station.”

He flashed me with a look of pity, shaking his head. “All I need from you right now is for you to help them set up the new barricades at the detour point and then you can take off. If it makes you feel any better, I can send a radio with you so you can hear if the line shifts in your direction. You’ll get another push alert to your phone if we decide to call everyone in, so just make sure you keep it charged. Hopefully, we can get this back under control in the next few hours, so we don’t need to do that.”

Nodding, I turned and headed back to my truck, hating that I couldn’t be more useful to him. And hating myself more, because it was my savior complex that had put me in this situation to begin with.

Annie

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