Seven say Dean. One says Jack.
I rub at the puffy circles that ring my eyes.
I was crying. Jack was here. I’ve been working. Reed was…Reed.Working.
Reality crashes in on me.
Eight missed calls and it’s light out!
“Reed!” I slap at his arm and he sits up with a start.
“What? What is it?” He scans the room, swinging his head frantically. Then he groans at the surge of light.
“My phone’s on silent,” I say, switching the sound on and off again to be sure I’m seeing it correctly. “How did my volume get turned off?”
Reed scratches the back of his head. “I thought you could use the extra sleep on your day off.”
“Yeah, I could! Except it’s past nine now and we missed a dispatch call over an hour ago!”
He throws himself out of bed and runs to the living room. He turns on the TV, flipping to Channel 7 News, and we hear the detailed report we would have gotten from my dad or Dean if we hadn’t missed their calls.
“The White Horse fire burning across the Payette National Forest developed a massive shift overnight when a thunderstorm swept the area. The fire that was once contained on the northern border hopped the Salmon River. High winds and lightning in the area are making it difficult for crews to stay on top of the spread that has burned an estimated 103,000 acres at this point. Forest Service officials say if they don’t get ahead of this thing, we might be in for a long summer.”
I grab the remote from his frozen hand, punching the OFF button and flinging it on thesofa. “We gotta go! Now!”
Reed’s the first one in the truck.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even think—” He shakes his head and clenches the steering wheel in a firm grip.
“Let’s just hope we aren’t too late, or we’re all screwed,” I say.
We ride in silence, with Reed barreling twenty miles an hour over the speed limit through Warren Wagon Road and me hanging on for dear life.
A call comes through the truck’s dash with Reed’s phone connected to autoplay. He answers it.
“Where the hell are you!” Dean’s voice screams through the speaker.
We jostle back and forth when the paved road gives way to gravel.
“Five miles out,” Reed answers.
“From where?”
“What do you mean from where? White Horse!”
“You need to turn around,” Dean says.
“Why?”
“Because we’re not there, man.”
“Where the hell are you then?”
“The crew had to turn down the job, Morgan. We can’t work with a seventeen-man team.”
Reed’s eyes grow wide. “No. We… we can still do it. I can be wherever you need me to be.”
“Weneededyou to answer your dispatch call almost two hours ago.”
