CHAPTER 1
Axe
Whoosh!
Boom!
The thunderous crash was experienced, not heard, the intense vibrations continuous. The earth rumbled from the swift moving fire, wind dragging the flames from the top of one tree to another. Every sound, including the cries of birds as they raced for safety was masked by the crackle of flames ripping through the dense, dry timber.
“Jesus Christ,” Dante yelled, his voice garbled yet audible through the remote speaker. He’d been close to being pummeled into the ground by the massive oak denting the earth.
I took a step away, lifting my face shield to stare at the progress. Goddamn it, the fire was hot, already consuming at least a thousand acres. While the team was making headway, soon exhaustion would settle in. That would add to the already heightened level of danger.
Where the fuck was the water? The firefighters were supposed to have been here an hour ago.
While we’d parachuted in given the location and the aggressive nature of the fire, there was a remote road leading to the area as well. Even with the mountainous area, the firefighters should have been here thirty minutes before. They had plenty of fucking water with the river and one of several lakes close by.
“Where are they?” I barked after smashing my fingers against the push to talk button.
Acrid ash lingered on my tongue, the taste bitter. Sooty columns of charcoal gray blotted out the sun, my eyes and nose burning from the stench.
“Mask on!” the team commander snapped as he swung his head toward me, his voice filled with fury. “Do your job, Axe. Do your job and we might get out of here alive.” William, or as he was known to everyone in the squad, the Wingman wasn’t interested in any of my shit. It didn’t matter that we were brothers. Not here. Not during a fire. He was merely the experienced smokejumper and I was low on the totem pole. “No fucking hot-dogging. Any of you.”
I’d gotten the nickname of Axe week one given my ability with and aggressive use of an axe in the line of duty. It was either that or be afflicted with the moniker I’d had since the first time I’d been arrested as a teenager.
Bronco Bully. Yeah, that didn’t suit me anymore. I was no longer that guy.
I glared at him, more as my older brother than as my superior. Yeah, I understood why rules were meant to be followed. In the wilderness, any misstep could cost someone’s life.
“Yes, sir. You know the wind is about to change directions. Right?” I glanced toward the sky painted orange by the excessive flames for emphasis.
“Don’t push, Axe. Keep your position,” he barked before heading off in another direction.
Damn the man and his rules. I lifted my mask again, turning in a full circle. If we weren’t careful, we’d lose control of the flames in seconds. The weather pattern was unpredictable as fuck and should be watched. But that wasn’t my call to make.
I returned to my post, continuing to clear the path, yanking limbs free of the line of fire.
While three jumpers were working on a burnout, setting fires to deny the main fire of any fuel, I was on the team cutting through branches and digging ditches to divert the flames.
I moved toward the other men, taking swing after swing against the hard terrain. The underbrush was brutal, dry as a bone, the perfect conditions for a raging flashfire.
We worked in tandem, ignoring body aches and the excessive heat. Beads of sweat crawled down my face, more soaking every inch of clothing.
This was what I’d asked for, joining the hotshot team. Why was I complaining? A grin crossed my face. I wasn’t. I was a danger junkie and this was exactly what fed my desires.
Minutes ticked by and it seemed as if we weren’t making any damn progress.
Boom!
Another fallen tree.
Another scream.
I threw a look at Denver who shook his head. Before giving it another thought, I rushed toward the sound.
“Axe, get back here!” Dante yelled, the entire team overhearing his frustration. A man was down. I refused to allow one of our own to perish.
Not like this.
