Page 214 of Smoke and Fire
BASTIAN
Years of wildland fire had trained me against bleak, dreary, soulless situations. Normally, charcoal-darkened hellscapes didn't bother me. Smoky terrains. Desperate animals fleeing their death. It all seemed so normal now.
Despite all that, a haunted feeling filled Adventura summer camp.
Maybe it had something to do with knowing what Adventura had been before the fire. Or knowing the owners and the people affected by the potential for harrowing loss.
For the first time in more than seven years as a wildland firefighter, I fought a fire on my home turf. The stakes of loss were personal now, even if Mark Bailey and I didn't have deep knowledge of each other.
Those thoughts accompanied me as I followed two other firefighters around the quiet camp. The ghosts of those that fled the danger seemed to lurk in the background.
Nilla checked a sprinkler set up on the main building while I veered toward the lake to check the hose access to water. Boot prints populated heavy tracks in the dirt around Adventura, indicating a broad bustle of movement as people scurried to get out. A volunteer fire department—probably Mark himself, too—had set most of this up.
They'd done well.
Not far from the lake lay a newish-looking stable. Three horses, skittish from the smoke, crowded the outside. Two of them pranced around, snorting when they saw me. I left a wide gap between us as I skirted the edge of the lake to head back.
When I returned to the main camp area, Nilla stared farther east. Rocky mountains jutted straight up behind Adventure, painted with slopes of evergreens in the steep faces. The mountains created a natural gorge, now filled with smoke, that led back. I'd hiked that gorge before.
Stunning, particularly in the summer, with the potential for frozen waterfall climbing in the winter. A stream normally trickled out, but this dry summer had evaporated it to a muddy puddle now. Even the lake had lowered.
Much of Adventura was obscured now from smoke, but I recalled it from memory. The Merry Idiots and I had come this way before Mark Bailey purchased the land, back when it was nothing more than a forgotten tract that used to house sheep and some cattle. He'd turned it into something else all together, and I wasn't sure how I felt about the development of wild places.
"No sign of fresh starts," Nilla said. Her gaze scanned what we could see for fresh signs of smoke. I glanced behind us, to the west. Nilla searched the wrong trees for signs of spotting. They would come from west of Adventura and blaze over. Everything was so smoky, however, it was almost impossible to tell.
My neck itched.
I didn't like this at all.
"Bastian?"
My squad leader James’ voice cut through my thoughts. He approached from near the main building. Droplets of water sprinkled his shoulders. He probably checked the outbuilding sprinklers. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and realized he'd asked me a question.
"Sorry, what?"
"How are the hoses?"
"Hoses are fine, not kinked. Appear to be working." The gentletch tch tchof the sprinkler as it released water around the main building filled in the space between my words. James turned to Nilla.
"Everything else look good?"
"Cleared out," she murmured. "Buildings on the north side of camp are empty. Everything is set up appropriately. No historic structures to wrap."
"Empty on the south," I murmured, "except the stable near the lake. Some of the horses have returned."
"I radioed it into the Supervisor already," James said. "They let Bailey know. Mark's on his way to corral them. Ready to get on perimeter patrol here? We need to hike west, see if we find any signs of fresh starts."
I grunted. As if brought here by sheer thought, the sound of tires crunching on gravel followed. Nilla glanced up.
Two headlights shone out of the foggy orange haze, then a second pair followed. Round, globelike things in the smoke. Two trucks with attached horse trailers had driven past the main building and into camp to stop near us, one behind the other.
My breath caught in the back of my raspy throat when a familiar pair of strong legs and dark hair spilled out ofmytruck. Dahlia's gaze found me almost immediately, then widened. I fought the urge to swear.
What was she doing here?
Suddenly, all the excuses that I’d been telling myself disappeared. They dropped, settling like ash around me. One look at her lovely face and I lost all my determination to do everything myself.
I. Was. A. Total. Idiot.
