Page 164 of Smoke and Fire
Sometimes on fires, I’d debate with myself over which element was the most heartless and destructive. Fire. Water. Wind. Earth. All of it captured power. When swept into a rampaging force, true escape from any element became a farce. Infernos. Tidal waves. Tornados. Mud slides.
Fire was the mark I saw all the time. Charred devastation. Darkness. A stark desperation in a previously healthy land that lasted for generations.
Heat, smoke, and the scent of burned wood filled my head as I lay back on my pad at fire camp. Stars speckled the sky overhead, despite the building wind in the tops of the trees. Branches waved back and forth, subject to the caterwauling gusts. In the far distance, clouds built up. They’d drive in on this outflow wind and, with any luck, drop some moisture.
Meanwhile, the very wind that brought the rain also grew the flame.
I didn’t look at my watch, because it would only tell me what I already knew. About 3:30 am. My arms ached after sixteen hours of swinging shovels and pickaxes in what would most likely be a futile attempt to dig line and stop the building inferno. We’d be up early to get back at it after breakfast, in which I wouldn’t be able to eat enough calories to recompense what I lost today. Didn’t matter. It would have to work out somehow. Likely, on sheer grit.
My mind turned to Dahlia. Thoughts of her usually made it easier to relax, but her concerned voice when we spoke tonight set me on edge. After talking I had no new video update. I missed it, even though I still got to hear her voice.
I shook my head to clear those thoughts. They wouldn’t serve me tonight.
Although I couldn’t explain why, I had a feeling the fire was toying with us. My theory didn’t make sense. Hardly anybody but other wildland firefighters would agree with me, but fire had personality.
Sometimes, you’d have a small blaze that petered out and played possum. We’d think it safe, back off, and it would blaze back to life after creeping around in the root systems, sometimes for weeks or months. Like it just wanted to mess with us.
Other fires started and ended hot, blazing, and ticked.
Others provided a gentle burn. Consistent. Steady. Not too troublesome, but enough to be respected.
Thisfire?
This sucker danced.
It would blaze and burn, then retreat. Retract, grow, stop. Other fires did the same, but this one felt . . . nefarious. Like it had a vendetta come due, and it would get its payback. None of that was true. Fire was fire. Conditions fueled it, and sometimes conditions were a son of a bitch.
Still . . . I had a feeling.
The voluntary evacuations had already gone out, but I doubted many people would leave. Those with animals would probably start moving them to safer ground. Bags would get packed. All that meant Dahlia was fine so far, but I didn’t like the thought of that changing rapidly. If fire did anything, it was change rapidly.
I contemplated the picture of her in my mind as I dropped into a restless sleep. Dahlia and I had met twice.
Yet I felt her surround me, kind of like smoke.
WHILE RIDINGthe green wildland fire truck out to our assignment the next morning, I checked my phone. No messages from Inessa or Dad’s caregivers, which was a win I’d take. I wished I could call them. Inessa didn’t like the phone, but sometimes I could snatch a minute or two of her gabbing. Dad was a lost cause as he wandered around, lost in his own mind all day, every day.
My throat tightened at the thought.
A text message popped up with Dahlia’s name attached. Seconds after I tapped on it, a video began to download. So soon? It was barely nine in the morning. I couldn’t tell if it was a good sign or a bad sign.
Her immediate smile set me at ease. She wore her hair down around her face, like usual. Her dark eyes had a sleepy look in them, as if she’d just gotten up. The background of the coffee shop was visible behind her strong shoulders.
I tapped the play button.
“Hey! Just wanted to send you a quick update. I checked the social media group last night and couldn’t find any trace of Katrina posting recently. Her last post that I can find was a few months ago, but it was in response to a question about book twelve. Doesn’t mean she’s not posting about Jess elsewhere, but I can’t see it from your profile if she is. I also finished book eight at like four in the morning.”
She sent me a stern look, and I laughed.
“I need more sleep, thank you very much. Anyway, I’ll keep an eye on things here and update you. If presumed-Katrina pulls anything crazy, I got yo’ back.”
She giggled, then her face softened ever-so-slightly.
“Please be safe. Don’t do anything stupid out there. The voluntary evacuation arrived late last night via an alert, like you said. I'm not going to leave this place yet, but I probably will prep after work, just in case. Thanks again.”
The video ended.
After it, she’d sent another message.
