Page 107 of Ablaze

I rub up and down her bicep, and I am about to say something when my phone vibrates with a text at the same time as it rings.

I pull it out of my pocket to see a call coming in from our fire chief. Both mine and Mala’s brows pinch. She’s likely thinking the same thing I am–the chief wouldn’t call me on my two days off unless it was important. I pick up the call. “Chief?”

“Meyer.” Chief’s voice has its usual thunderous rumble, but there’s an urgency in the way he says my name that has my spine straightening on its own accord. “You been keeping up with the situation in San Diego?”

My heart drums and I flick my gaze from a tree swaying behind the wire fence to Mala’s concerned expression. “Of course. The whole station’s been keeping up with the news. We’ve been texting back and forth as more information comes in. The two major fire clusters seemed to be about seventy percent contained last I checked a few hours ago.”

“Well, not anymore. The fire’s spreading farther toward rural areas, with the wind gusts now up to twelve miles-per-hour. Everyone’s been asked to evacuate, but the blaze has destroyed close to two-hundred square miles and about a hundred and fifty homes already with no end in sight. The crew on the ground is getting exhausted, and Cal Fire is calling for reinforcements. We need all available fire engines on the scene.” He pauses only a second to let his words sink in. “I need you and most of the crew to head over there to help.”

I swallow as a weight plummets to the bottom of my stomach. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

DEAN

“Alright, listen up!” McAdams yells over the din of helicopters above us and the faint sounds of feet on dried grass. The silver in his mustache contrasts with the dark smoke behind him. “I need a man every three hundred feet. We’ve got the wet line around the fire, but the blaze has jumped in several areas. We gotta fight this thing decisively and aggressively, hear me?”

McAdams is the deputy chief in charge of our crew, and though he's a shorter, stockier man than most of us here, the authority in his voice makes it clear he doesn’t put up with any sort of insubordination. Rumor has it, he’s fought more wildfires than house fires, so if there’s anyone who knows what they’re doing, it’s him.

The lot of us standing around him take stock of each other before surveying the brush fires around us. While a decent number of us have fought wildfires before, I doubt any of us have been around long enough to have fought one of this caliber. So, it’s not surprising that the same anxious energy is coursing through all of us.

We’re all thinking the same thing–the fire’s continuing to push against the control lines and the weather isn’t on our side. One misstep, one wrong decision, could be the difference between life and death.

Hell, even the right decisions–the ones made after evaluating all the data at hand–could still have the same outcome, with us fighting for our lives.

I tug on the necklace around my neck and give the pendant a kiss. Mala gave it to me before I left, and just having it on my skin reminds me what I have to get home to. A smile pulls at my lips as I eye the infinity sign with the dog bone inside it. Perhaps no one else would understand the reason why it’s special to our friendship–our love–but no one else needs to.

A few guys shift on their feet nervously, but I take in a few shallow breaths of smoky air, tasting the ash at the back of my throat and hoping for it to distract me from my thoughts.

Fear is only going to hold me back, keep me from the task at hand. So, as much as the memories of once being in almost this exact position years ago–looking at a similar raging inferno of trees, feeling the same dread trying to creep in–threaten to cloud my brain, I fist my hands at my sides, shoving them off.

Right now, at this very moment, I have no other choice but to believe things will end better than they did last time. They have to.

Because now I have so much to lose.

Now I have everything to lose.

Just like he did.

“Let’s fight this thing and get the fuck outta here, yeah?” he’d said, looking over his shoulder at me while I helped him carry the hose toward a large burning redwood tree on our first day. “Cuz, I got a girl whose bed I don’t like being away from for too long.”

I’d snorted. “And this is only day-one, ladies and gentlemen. How are you gonna deal if we’re stuck here for a week or longer?”

Zander’s eyes darkened, and I wished I could take back my words. “That’s the thing. I’m not, brother. I won’t be able to deal with it well if it’s too much longer.” He saw the skepticism in my expression, perhaps, because he added, “You’ll get it one day, Dean. I swear to you, you’ll get it.”

And he was right.

I do.

McAdams’ voice has me blinking back from the past. He goes on to remind us all of the basic protocols, like maybe we’d forgotten them over the past hundred times he’s repeated himself today. “Stay informed on weather conditions, know what the fire is doing at all times, identify escape routes, communicate often and clearly, hear me?”

We all shout our affirmations as my eyes drift beyond his shoulders to the crew scattered across all parts of the visible terrain. Some are fighting active fires while others are digging trenches to stop them from advancing.

“Remember, fight decisively and aggressively. There’s no room for mistakes,” he repeats. “First and foremost is your safety.”

“Yes, sir,” we all respond collectively.

Malcolm, Rohan, and I have been here for four days, fighting on the ground throughout the day, resting for a mere two to three hours in the encampments set up for us nearby before heading back to do it all over again.

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