PROLOGUE
SOPHIA
Ithumb through the old stack of newspaper clippings as snow drifts on a lazy breeze. I can almost hear my brother in the back of my head telling me to sort through my junk. There’s clippings here from every major win of the Willow Ridge fire brigade—even small ones, like the time my brother and his best friend entered a sewer to rescue a litter of puppies, or when they raised money for the town with those cheesy bare-chest calendars.
Every year, I tell myself I’m going to make him a scrapbook.
And every year, I forget.
But I keep looking for the articles, keep cutting them from the local papers and storing them in the old shoe box on my bookshelf. There are even photos inhere; some old and worn because I cut them directly from the newspaper. Others are ones I took myself and printed at some point.
God, I don’t even remember doing it. Some of these are from the first year my brother joined the station as a cadet with his friends. I’d been so proud of him—of all of them.
And then I come to the bottom of the pile, and my stomach drops.
FIRE LIGHTS UP SMALL TOWN HORIZON, CLAIMING FOUR LIVES
Last night, January 26th at 11PM, the Jade Mountain Lodge experienced an oil fire that started in the kitchens of the Jade Bar and Grill. The Jade Mountain Rescue Team, with help from Willow Ridge Fire Brigade 278, evacuated 147 guests and 58 staff members from the incident. Unfortunately, line cook, Henry Klein (45), did not make it out of the initial fire. Guests, Bernadette Williams (62) and son, Joseph Williams (34), died from smoke inhalation on route to Wilfred Green Memorial Hospital at 12:33AM. Four additional staff and guests were airlifted to the hospital for burn related injuries.
A secondary fire started in one of the rooms southof the first after 12AM. Fire Captain Everette Page has yet to comment on what caused the secondary incident, despite it trapping three on duty firefighters sent to evacuate guests.
Of the three firefighters: Noah Grey (30), Oliver Sanderson (27), and Jason Rhodes, Rhodes (26), did not survive.
Rhodes is survived by his sister, Maggie Rhodes, and infant daughter, Lillian Rhodes. Grey is in critical condition at Wilfred Green Memorial and there is no news on his recovery. Sanderson escaped with minor burns.
No guests or staff were harmed in the secondary fire. Most were hospitalised for smoke related injuries.
A memorial for firefighter Rhodes will be conducted on the 28th of January. All those who knew firefighter Rhodes are encouraged to attend. Another memorial for the civilians who passed will be conducted in the town square on February 2nd.
My chest aches with the memory of that day. Three years, and it feels like it was yesterday. I still see flashes of the moment we got the call in the ER. Clearing beds as fear threatened to consume me. Noword from my brother over his status, knowing his best friends were coming.
And remembering the sight of the one man I’ve ever loved, in pain, writhing on a stretcher as he was brought into the burn unit.
I’ll never forget.
ONE
NOAH
Wind picks up. A flurry of snow creates a darkening blanket over Willow Ridge, forcing residents into their homes or the town hall for safety and warmth should the power blow. More than likely, we’ll lose half the grid with the oncoming blizzard.
The mountain creates a barrier around the town, but when the weather decides to punish Willow Ridge, that range becomes a cage, trapping us within the confines of the town limits. Two roads in, two roads out. Both are taken once the storms hit.
There are some benefits to living in an isolated town like Willow Ridge. Our closest neighbours are forty minutes out of town, but what makes us so special are the mountains.
It used to be the hub of all activity; the winters went from being cold and isolated to vibrant and loud. The little Christmas market shifted from a day-long event with only the locals to enjoy it to an entire week because of tourism.
And three years ago, that all ended.
I can’t make myself join in with the festivities this year—or any year. Especially as I pass the small square and stalls lining the paths. I take in people I’ve known my whole life and those I haven’t. New faces and old ones stroll the square while snow falls, none the wiser of what’s to come.
My gaze moves to the ever-darkening sky, a sigh falling from my lips as I push through the snow building on the road. I pass the square, which eases some of the pressure building in my chest. I don’t come down the mountain much anymore. Only when I need supplies, and nothing more.
Sometimes, I don’t even have to leave at all. There are still people who try to coax me out, attempting to bring me back into the fold that is life.
But it doesn’t feel much like a life anymore.
I try. Now that I’m on the mountain and my cabin is set up, during the summer I volunteer as a fire watcher. Keep an eye on any potential starters—hikers being lazy and not checking their campfiresare out, potential areas where a fire might start if the ground gets too dry.
