Page 280 of Her Reluctant Hero
She stopped and he turned to her, impatience overcoming his pain. “We have to go back.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked immediately.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Just too much smoke.” He started forward again. “Wish we had our packs. I could use some water. Maybe one of those guys up there still has his supplies.”
“I suppose I’ll be docked for losing two packs in a week,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
He slid her a look. “What did you find that pissed her off?” He waved his hand at the black ground, the stripped trees.
How did he know? The same way he knew she was here? She’d find out the whole story later. Right now his glower prompted her to just answer the question. “A glove, way too small to be Doug’s.”
He laughed, a horrible, rough sound that dissolved into coughing. Again, Peyton wished for water to help him. He shook his head. “Goddamn her. Did she say why?”
Could she tell him? Could she tell him the reason those people died was because of him? How would he react?
His radio beeped and he pressed the button with a sigh.
“Gabe, do you see them?” Jen’s voice was a squawk, and it was impossible to gauge her emotion. Still, Peyton could only imagine what she was feeling, out of contact with her husband, miles away from where he could be dying.
“No. What’s the word on the slurry?”
“He’s on...way. You should see him...minute. Where...drop?” Her voice faded in and out with the poor reception.
Apparently, Gabe was able to decipher her message. “About two hundred yards east of the ridge moving up the mountain. He should be able to see—”
“...sees them! He sees them!” Jen’s voice rang out clearly. “They’re alive, running!”
Just then the sound of a motor vibrated toward them and a plane emerged from the smoke, dropping lower. They were close enough to hear the cargo bay open, to see the rich pink of the slurry against the gray smoke, to hear the splat as it hit the ground.
Three figures moved through the smoke, down the mountain toward them. The smokejumpers were laughing, sliding in the slurry, their posture telegraphing their relief. One of them raised a hand in greeting. Doug, Peyton realized. Gabe must have realized it at the same time, because he lifted his radio to his mouth.
“All present and accounted for, Madame IC,” he said, then dropped to all fours, his body twisted with coughing spasms.
Peyton fell to her knees beside him and wrapped her arms around him, panic seizing her, wondering how he’d made it so far only to collapse now. He’d been more worried about the smokejumpers than he’d wanted to admit. As the coughs stole his breath, she was uncertain of how to help him without any supplies. She looked up the slope to see none of the firefighters had their packs. They must have abandoned them as she and Gabe had, to move faster.
“Jesus,” Doug wheezed, hands on his knees, spraying black spittle. “Jesus, we were almost toast.” He blinked at Gabe, who dropped back onto his butt. “How could you be behind us and not be barbecued?”
Lovely imagery. “We deployed.”
She exchanged a glance with Doug, who took Gabe’s radio. “Jen, we need a medevac chopper up here.”
“...you okay?” Jen asked.
“We’re great. Gabe took in too much smoke. We need to get him treated. And we lost our gear, so some water would be great too.”
“...done,” she said. “I love you.”
Peyton’s attention was diverted from the conversation when Gabe reached over and squeezed her thigh, unable to speak for a time, struggling for breath.
Finally he said, “Are you okay?”
She gave a little laugh. Of course he would be more worried about her than himself. Damn hero. “I’m fine.”
Doug dropped the radio back on Gabe’s lap. “The chopper should be here in about ten.”
Gabe waved him off. “I can make it. Is everyone else all right?”
