You know what it feels like to be eighteen, in a war zone, half-thinking you’ll get blown up any second, and your girlfriend won’t even take your calls?
Shitty.That’s how.
We never eventechnicallybroke up.Neither of us ever saidwe should break upto the other.True, our last fight was pretty spectacular, and I said alotof things I didn’t mean.But it was only our last because Clementine suddenly went totally silent on me.
She didn’t answer my calls, didn’t answer my emails, nothing.After a week I stopped, decided we’d broken up, and signed up for another tour just to get back at her.
I stand on the back porch for a long, long time.Flecks of rain fly in through the screen, so I’m covered in a fine sheet of water, but I don’t move.Mandy and Lucy both leave, I think, or at least I hear them saying goodbye to Silas.
The storm slows, moving away, and eventually the rain stops.I glance at the house next door, where Clementine lives.There’s a gnawing feeling in my gut, knowing thatthistime she’s right there.
I could go over there.We could talk this over, like the adults we’ve become.But it’s not what she fucking wants, so history’s gonna repeat itself.
I head inside at last.The guys are all looking at me, but I don’t say anything.I can’t even explain this shit tomyself, I’m not gonna try it out loud.I just take a long, hot shower, eat dinner, and go to bed.
I feela little better the next morning.I remember that from before, too: sleeping always helped.
At breakfast, everything is tense.Not because of me.It’s not like I’m the first guy who’s had a huge fight in front of everyone.We’re together all day, every day.Shit happens.
It’s because we could be leaving for Utah any minute.The Wasatch fire is still borderline, so we’re all checking updates, trying to get ourselves mentally prepared.It’s toward the end of fire season, and we’re all tired.The men with spouses and kids want to go home, and the rest of us aren’t looking forward to sleeping on the ground.
I’m just afraid I’ll leave and not get to say goodbye to Clementine.Even if it didn’t work between us again, I at least want that.
I’m still brooding over that when Porter walks into the kitchen and stands in the doorway between it and the living room.
“Is everyone here?”he asks.
We all look around, tense, and shrug.
I guess we’re heading to Utah, I think.
“I need a couple of volunteers to hike to some fire lookouts,” he says.“There were a number of lightning strikes in the national forest last night, and there have been a number of smoke reports.”
“Fire lookouts?”someone asks.
“That’s correct,” Porter says, speaking like there’s a stick up his ass, per usual.
“There’s no satellite or helicopter?”the guy asks again.
Porter runs one hand through his hair, then crosses his arms.
“This has been a very long, trying fire season,” he says, and for once, his voice softens.“It’s the biggest on record, and it’s not even September yet.Every crew has been running ragged for months.We lost twelve men at Kaibab.”
We’re all silent, waiting for him to explain why there’s no helicopters.
“Frankly, this season has been longer, hotter, and bigger than anyone anticipated,” he goes on.“We’re running on empty, resource-wise, and there’s not much to spare to look formorefires.All that equipment is monitoring current, active fires, so we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Heads nod, somberly.Everyone looks at their hands, because Porter is right: it’s been a long, tough season, and it’s not even over yet.
Porter takes a deep breath, straightens, and apparently jams the stick back up his butt.
“Each volunteer will be accompanying a forest ranger to an existing lookout tower in the Big Sky National Forest,” he says.“The rangers know the forest, and from there, you can help them assess any possible ignition points.They’re long hikes, but there’s a bed and shelter at the end, so at least there’s that.”
I stopped listening ataccompanying a forest ranger.My stupid heart leaps, even though it shouldn’t.
“Volunteers?”he asks.
My hand shoots up, along with a few other guys.Porter pulls out a notepad and looks carefully around the room, giving each volunteer a good long look, then nodding.
