“How’s the wrist?” His voice is soft.
“What wrist?” I smile up at him.
He wraps me in his massive arms, holding me close as I drift off to sleep, relaxed and at peace.
Chapter Six
ATLAS
Hailey is still asleep when my phone starts to buzz. I’m not on call, but I pick it up. It’s just after nine in the morning.
Brock: Big One up here at the Lodge Chief!
I sit straight up. The last Big One was the fire at the old barn on Blitzen Street, where we nearly lost two of our crew and there were multiple casualties.
I’m in my clothes and out the door in less than a minute, jumping into my car. I call the firehouse, but there’s no answer.
Shit. Everyone must be out there already or heading that way.
The town is quiet but there’s a line of black smoke from further up the mountain that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. That mix of dread and excitement fills my stomach as I take the turn up to the mountain road.
The old chief, now long retired, used to refer to this kind of incident as a snot-slinger. He campaigned for more trucks and firefighters, because a bunch of farms were wiped out after a fire caused by a lightning strike. Now the Snowflake Falls Fire Department, partly thanks to charitable donations from somelocal billionaires, is one of the best-equipped in three states. We’re responsible for four districts, so the whole team is familiar with all types of fires.
But this kind of fire is an exception. I’m halfway there and I can already smell the acrid smoke spooling out over the mountain.
I speed up the road, the smoke getting thicker with every mile. As I approach the Lodge, my heart sinks. Magnus Huckle has spent years renovating it, turning into a space that hosts everything from art exhibitions to weddings. The entire new extension to the old building is covered in flames, glass panels crashing to the ground as the crackle of burning wood fills the air.
My heart pounds in my chest as I park my car, performing a quick size-up of the scene as I put on the spare set of bunker gear I have in the trunk. The Lodge is surrounded by pine trees and a fire as big as this carries the risk of spreading to the woods. And if it does, all bets are off.
My brother parks his cruiser alongside my car.
“Big one, Atlas.” His face is grim. “We got the call, but I’d already seen the smoke. Mr. Huckle said someone saw a guy in a striped shirt acting suspiciously this morning. We’re going to look for him and help get the guests outside to safety further down the mountain.”
“Roger that.”
Brock’s barking orders to the team, his face etched with determination. The pumpers are busy, pipes trained on the building, as a spray of water creates a rainbow in the morning sunshine.
“Chief. Two people are trapped in the east part of the building, where the new extension meets the older part. Dean went in before I arrived, we have limited comms, it’s fuckingchaotic in there. He says the flames are cutting them off, they can’t find a way out of there.”
“I want everyone to focus on stopping any flame spread to those trees. Rion and his team are getting the guests to safety.”
He nods. “What about Dean?”
“I’m taking Mav, we’ll get everyone out. Don’t ask me how.” I grimace.
Mav jogs alongside me as we make our way around the side of the flaming building. The heat is intense, sweat mixing with ash as I fight against the destruction threatening to consume everything in its path.
My radio crackles.
“We’re in the brick storehouse…can’t get out…” Dean’s words cut off as a beam from the top of the glass-fronted building crashes to the ground.
“Copy. We’re getting you out.”
Mav points at the storehouse attached to the extension. “Right there, Chief. Must be one of those walk-in places where they keep their wood. I can’t see an entry point that isn’t on fire.”
The yard at the back of the extension is partly paved, with a stack of stones where building work is taking place. There’s a small excavator parked to the side.
I grab my radio. “Dean, get everyone up against the north wall of the storehouse. Under a table or with something between you and the south wall.”
