Page 57 of Smokin' Situation

After the horn blared through the building, the inside of the base station locker room was a frantic flurry of activity as our group of ten smoke jumpers on duty suited up and checked the gear before hustling to our awaiting aircraft. After sixteen years on the job, everything was second nature, but I checked every pocket and every strap of my harness, just in case. Even veterans made mistakes, and every piece of gear we carried was essential, meaning mistakes could cost a life.

“We ready to do this?” Pace asked from my side as we exited the side of the hangar, the light breeze at base command a tease against my face compared to what I knew we’d be jumping into.

“Don’t think we have a fucking choice,” I grunted, my focus on running through the list of things I checked before each mission. Every single one of us had a ritual we followed, and not fucking talking was mine. I needed to be in the right headspace to jump, and right now I was irrationally pissed that someone in our organization caused this fire unnecessarily.

Anyone running a controlled burn knew to watch wind speeds and weather advisories before they lit the first line, which meant the burn boss had epically fucked this one up. Not to mention whoever closed the trails that were closest to the burn area didn’t do a good enough fucking job apparently, since we had a half a dozen hikers now trapped by a fire they couldn’t control without our help.

“We fucking got this,” he said, holding his glove covered fist out for a bump. I tapped it and hauled myself up the stairs into the aircraft, sliding across the seat to my designated spot. The adrenaline rush on the way to a jump was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, every cell in my body buzzing as the last member of my crew boarded.

We were all quiet as the plane took flight, the radio chatter of the spotters indistinguishable over the roar of the engines from where I was sitting.

Once we reached the drop site, our team was like a well-oiled machine, each jumper waiting for their cue until they leaped from the door one by one until I was the last man left. Double checking the strap on my helmet, I waddled my way to the open door, the sound of the wind rushing through the airplane almost deafening. Grabbing the stationary pole by the door, I waited for the spotter to give me the go ahead.

When his fist connected with my shoulder, I was gone, free falling with the wind at my face, scanning the horizon line for the little blue dots of my colleague’s parachutes.

We were to set the fire line between the burn and the stranded hikers, keeping it away from them until the wind conditions improved for an aerial rescue. Having done hundreds of jumps, my brain was on autopilot, running through the checklist of things I needed to do as soon as I hit the ground.

Deploying my parachute, my heart rate slowed as my body bounced, and I grabbed the handles, steering into the wind to get near the drop zone. Studying the ground, I could see where the front line of the fire was, a pillar of smoke in the air marking it in the distance.

Scanning the spotty tree line, my eyes widened when I noticed a flash of color that shouldn’t have been there. As the ground came closer and closer, I tried to focus, but my eyes were drawn back to the bright purple dot in the forest, way too close to the smoke.

A gust of wind caught my parachute, and I steered against it, ready to battle the winds to reach my final destination and steer away from the fire, but as I crossed over where the purple dot had been, I saw flashes of arms waving through the branches.

“Fuck.” There was someone out there.

We were too far out for anyone to know that one hiker wasn’t with the group they’d steered away from the fire, and since I was the last man on the ground, and my crew was far enough away they didn’t know we still had a civilian in danger.

I wasn’t a search and rescue firefighter. It wasn’t my job to rescue people from burning buildings or wildfires, but fuck if I was gonna let someone remain in danger on my watch.

My adrenaline was pumping as I steered toward the trees, knowing I was about to get the fuck beat out of me. When I plunged through the canopy, I was thankful for my gear, the heavily padded suit and helmet protecting me from the tree branches as I fell.

It still knocked the wind out of me when my chute hooked overhead and my body bounced in the air, suspended about six feet off the ground.Reaching for my front pack, I grabbed my knife, cutting the lines of my parachute and bending my knees for the impact with the forest floor.

The sound of a feminine shout carrying through the haze had me jumping up, jogging toward the sound of her voice. Blood rushed in my ears as I hustled as fast as my heavy packs would allow through the smoke, no time to throw off my extra gear.

“Where are you?” I yelled, hoping I was heading in the right direction, but I could barely see, the smoke burning my eyes as I scanned through the trees, the distinct red glow of the fire much closer than I wanted to see it.

“Here!” the voice echoed back, and I turned, picking my way through the underbrush toward a steep hill. I slogged my way down it, trying not to let my heavy gear throw off my center of balance.

“Just keep yelling!” I shouted, knowing I needed to find this person and get them the fuck out of here before that fire got any closer.

Her voice carried over the rush of the wind and the roaring crackle of the fire. I followed it as I scanned for the purple dot I’d seen overhead.

Breaking through a cluster of trees about halfway down the hill, I saw her on the ground, clutching her leg while she sat yards away from a battered purple tent that had been stretched out over the ground but was clearly not set up on the steep hillside. I had to admire the quick thinking on her part. It was a bright marker that could clearly grab attention from the air, but holy fuck.

“What the fuck are you doing out here by yourself?” I yelled, assessing the situation. While we were all required to complete mandatory emergency medical training each year during the off season, I didn’t have the equipment to properly set a bone or splint a leg.

“I fell down this embankment and I think I broke my leg. They were going to send someone back for me, but it’s been hours, and I tried to walk, but I kept falling, and—”

I held up my hand, cutting her off. “So, it’s broken?”

She nodded; tear tracks visible on her dirt-smeared cheeks. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ve got a fire shelter in my gear and I’m gonna help you climb into it. That fire line is way too close to us, and I can’t carry you out of here safely.”

“You’re going to leave me?” she whimpered, her breathing picking up.

“Not unless I need to,” I replied, shaking my head, but as the wind blew, and embers danced in front of my face, catching on the canopy overhead and sparking the branches, I knew I might have to if she had my only fire shelter.

Activating the beacon on my gear that would broadcast my location, I made sure the little blinking light engaged, the chirp it emitted almost drowned out by the sound of the fire as it flashed up the hill toward us. I dropped my packs to the ground beside me, but kept my outer suit on, reaching down to yank out what I needed.

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