Page 2 of The Smokejumper's Lady
There’s a delay. The flames eat it.
The fire is spreading fast. Dry pine needles, brittle grass, low humidity. It’s like the whole forest was just waiting for one spark.
Maddie is screaming, high and shrill, and Mrs. Reynolds is frozen, her hand on her chest, staring at the rising smoke like she can’t believe it’s real. Mr. Reynolds is barking her name, grabbing at Maddie, trying to keep them both moving, but it’s chaos. Heat is building, smoke choking the clean alpine air, turning the world around us into a nightmare.
“We have to move,” I bark, louder than I mean to. “Everyone stay close to me.”
I grab Maddie’s hand and start running down the narrow trail, my boots slipping on loose gravel. My lungs are burning already—from the smoke, from the fear. The heat surges behind us, chasing us like it has teeth.
That’s when I see it…a narrow dip in the ridge, shadows just beyond the thick bramble. A jagged outcropping of rock, barely visible through the smoke. My pulse kicks into overdrive.
It’s a cave!
I don’t even hesitate. “This way!” I shout, dragging them toward it. Branches snag at my arms. Maddie stumbles once, then again, but I don’t let go of her hand.
The flames are close now, so close I can hear the trees screaming. We duck into the cave just as the first wall of heat rolls over the trail.
Inside, it’s damp and tight, but it works as a cover. The opening is small enough that I pray the fire won’t come barreling in, andthe rock above us gives a layer of protection we didn’t have a minute ago.
Maddie is sobbing now, completely undone. Mrs. Reynolds is trying to hold it together, but her face is streaked with terror. Mr. Reynolds is wheezing, hands braced on his knees.
I take off my flannel shirt and press it against Maddie’s nose and mouth. “Breathe through this, sweetie. Just like blowing out birthday candles, okay?”
Her eyes are wide and glassy, cheeks streaked with soot and tears. But she nods. Brave girl.
Mrs. Reynolds clutches her daughter tighter. “Are we going to be okay?” she asks me, voice trembling.
I pause.
My instinct is to lie. Say yes. Say help is already on the way. Say there’s no way in hell the fire will reach us here. But I’ve guided enough groups and studied enough weather patterns to know better.
So I meet her gaze and speak the truth, because it’s all I’ve got left.
“We’re in a decent spot,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “The cave gives us some cover. Fires usually move with the wind and terrain. We’re near the creek, and the air’s thinner up here. We just have to stay low. Stay calm.”
Please just believe me.
The walkie squawks, and I lunge for it, my heart leaping into my throat. “Tour guide ten reporting,” I say. “We’re in a cave near the East Fork ridge, north trail. Four people, including a child. Requesting immediate air support.”
“Copy that,” a male voice crackles back. “Smoke jumper team’s been dispatched. ETA ten to twelve minutes. Hold tight.”
Relief crashes into me so hard I nearly sag against the rock wall. Ten minutes might as well be a lifetime, but it’s hope. It’s something.
I turn to the Reynolds’s, offering a weak smile. “Help’s on the way.”
Mr. Reynolds lets out a shaky breath and nods. Mrs. Reynolds buries her face into her daughter’s hair. The tiniest bit of tension leaves their bodies. Not all of it, but enough to give them a second wind.
Ten minutes.
I glance toward the cave opening. Orange flickers in the distance. The flames are crawling closer. The sound is almost worse than the sight, like a freight train barreling through the trees, snapping branches, devouring everything in its path. Hungry. Alive.
And through it all, I’m here.
Not in a safe office. Not behind some glossy desk in a hotel like my parents wanted. I’m in the middle of a wildfire, babysitting tourists, wondering if this is the hill I’m going to die on. Literally.
I hear my mom’s voice again, sharp and certain:“You’re wasting your future on this park, Clea. Do you want to be thirty with nothing to show for it except bug bites and a sunburn?”
I always say something about how thirty is still a whole decade away. How I’m only twenty and have plenty of time to figure out what I want to do.
