Page 77 of Falling for the Firefighter
Lead Us Through the Dark
"Command, this is Beta Leader."Parker's voice carries an edge I haven't heard before."Fire behavior changing. Multiple vortices forming along the eastern flank."
Fire vortices—tornado-like columns of flame and superheated air that can transform a controlled burn into an unstoppable force.
"Intensity?" I grab the radio, dread pooling in my stomach.
"Extreme. Flame heights now exceeding ninety feet. Rotating columns visible at three points along the containment line."
I check the topographical map, confirming my worst fears. "The canyon system east of your position creates perfect conditions for vortex development. If they merge..."
"Fire tornado." Sheriff Donovan finishes my thought, face grim.
Before we can process this new threat, Mac's voice cuts through:"Alpha Leader to all units. Major wind event developing. Central position at critical risk. All personnel prepare for rapid change in fire behavior."
As if his words were prophecy, Parker's next transmission comes through garbled and desperate:"Beta Leader toCommand. Fire tornado forming. Eastern flank compromised. Multiple spot fires behind our position. Route to safety zone cut off."
The command center falls silent as the implications register. Parker's team—including half of Mac's hotshot crew and Noah Morgan's local firefighters—are now trapped between an advancing fire tornado and a rapidly developing secondary fire that blocks their retreat.
"Beta Leader, report positions."Mac's voice remains controlled despite the crisis."Exact coordinates of all personnel."
Parker responds with precise grid references that I immediately mark on the tactical map. Two groups, separated by the developing fire tornado, both cut off from established escape routes.
"Command, this is Alpha Leader."Mac's transmission comes through crisp and determined."I'm moving with Jackson Hart and four team members to Beta position. We'll establish a corridor through the secondary fire for evacuation."
"Negative, Alpha Leader." Sheriff Donovan responds immediately. "Fire intensity exceeds safety parameters for rescue attempt. Maintain position."
"Not a request, Command."Mac's tone brooks no argument."Alpha position stable under Williams' direction. Hart has identified a potential route using natural features for protection. We're moving now."
The radio falls silent as Mac disconnects, already committed to his course of action. Sheriff Donovan curses under his breath, frustration warring with grudging respect.
"He'll get himself killed." Donovan mutters, turning to me. "That route—is it viable?"
I study the map where I've marked Parker's coordinates, tracing potential approaches through terrain I know intimately.Every path seems blocked by advancing flame or impassable in current conditions.
Then I see it—a possibility so slim it barely qualifies as an option.
"The ridge system west of their position." I trace the feature with my finger. "If they follow this spine, they might—might—be able to approach from behind the secondary fire."
"But?"
"But it's incredibly exposed. No natural cover. Directly in the path of ember fall from the main fire." I swallow hard. "And even if they reach Parker's position, getting everyone out along that same route would be nearly impossible with the fire's current rate of spread."
Donovan studies the map, the grim reality settling between us. Mac is attempting what might be a suicide mission, with minimal chance of successfully extracting the trapped firefighters.
"There has to be another way." I pull out my most detailed maps, searching for alternatives missed in our initial planning. "Something we've overlooked."
Eleanor joins us, her keen eyes scanning the topography. "What about the old mining tunnels? The ones you used for the camper rescue?"
I shake my head. "Too far south. They don't extend to Parker's position."
"Not those." Eleanor taps a section of the map marked with faded notation. "The high country system. The one Jacob Mackenzie mapped in '87."
My father's name jolts me. "That system was never fully documented. Dad only explored the southern entrance before the company restricted access."
"But you have his notes." It's not a question. Eleanor knows my father kept meticulous records of every exploration, whether official or not.
I hesitate, mind racing through possibilities. "The tunnels might—might—extend beneath that ridge system. If they do..."
