Dirt kicks under my boots. Heat hits first. Then smoke.
Then the sound… the low, constant roar that gets into your head if you let it. I don’t. Instead, I think in sharp, clear commands. The way Kurt would tell me.
Line placement. Wind direction. Spread pattern.
Everything I’ve learned and trust.
Hours pass. The night gets blacker, clouds thickening. The heat and glow intensify.
I work until I’m nauseous, straight through breaks. No time to waste. Every moment counts. Have to hold the line. Must contain the spread.
Finally, a fresh rest crew steps in to help around dawn—men and women from other counties. I’ve trained with them occasionally. To my surprise, there’s still no Hollywood, Waldon, or Aiden.
Must’ve been some post-auction night for them.
It doesn’t matter, new crew or not. We all strive toward the same goals.
We cut. We dig. We move.
Then we do it all over again.
The fire pushes back. For a little while. Then, a shift in the wind sends sparks flying farther than they should. Too close to the houses below.
“Move!” someone shouts.
We adjust, moving faster now. Controlled, but tight. Energy frenetic but focused.
This is the edge… where mistakes happen. Where people get hurt if we’re not careful.
Beneath the heat and the hurry, the straining muscles and the motivation, a small thought sits at the back of my mind.
A new one that lets me know I have to do this right. That I have to return in one piece.
Because somewhere back in town, there’s a woman in my house, counting on me to return. I can still feel her in my arms, taste her on my lips.
The heat of her lives in my veins. It drives me on. Makes me work harder, bust through my usual limitations because she’s all I need.
I just hope I can make her see that.
I push harder. Drive the line deeper. Hold. Even when my muscles ache and shake. Even when my head starts pounding again, still reeling from last night.
The wind shifts again.
Then—finally—it slows, contained enough to breathe.
For now.
I pull the mask down, dragging in air that tastes like smoke.
My heart’s still running fast. But steady. Always steady.
Kurt claps a hand on my shoulder.
“Good work.”
I nod once.
Already looking back toward town. “Where’s the rest of our crew?” I ask.
