Embers rained down as if from the heavens, blanketing the terrain with specks of hot lava. I trounced out as many as possible as I lumbered forward, feeling hindered by the weight of the uniform.
“Axe! Where the fuck are you?” I ignored Will’s question as I heard moaning only a few feet away.
Thick smoke furled in the air, making it close to impossible to breathe. But nothing was going to stop me.
I noticed movement seconds later and rushed forward. Rock was down, a huge limb pinning his legs. Fuck.
“Man down. Man down,” I called, but there was no time to wait for anyone’s assistance.
“Damn it,” Rock hissed, obviously in pain.
“I got you, Marcus.”
“I can’t fucking move,” he muttered. In the two plus years I’d been a hotshot, I’d never seen the man flustered. That’s why he’d been given the moniker of the Rock. Because he was immovable, impenetrable. A local hero.
And we wouldnotlose him on this mission.
Hunkering down, I yanked at the huge limb, my gloves slipping on the slimy moss bark. Fuck. I yanked them off before trying again, this time on my feet and using my thigh muscles.
“Aaaaahhhhh.”
Crackling sounds were all around us, additional limbs ready to fall. Any one of them could crush us.
“Pull. Pull. Pull!” Rock grunted.
Voices from other jumpers peppered the airwaves. All ignored.
With my chest heaving, my arms ready to give out, I finally got the fucking limb to budge just enough so Rock was able to crawl out from under it. I grabbed his arm, dragging him away just as movement caught my eye.
Boom!
The ground beneath us rumbled.
The fallen tree was too damn close, the force creating a thick haze of dust.
“Let’s get out of here.” With my arm wrapped around him, we hobbled to safety, moving behind the line of fire.
I could feel the heated glare of the others but didn’t give a shit. I’d saved a man’s life. Wasn’t that worth something?
“I’m fine,” Rock told me. “Let’s get this done. Back to work.”
We returned to the group, continuing our efforts. Time seemed to tick away slowly.
Suddenly, the fucking cavalry arrived, firefighters making it through the heavy brush.
“About goddamn time!” Denver barked from beside me.
Snorting, I glanced at the firefighting team, realizing it was engine twelve, my old stomping grounds. My captain had been none too happy when I’d left to become a smokejumper.
William appeared, stalking toward them.
But not before throwing me a nasty look.
“What do we have?” one of the firemen asked as he glanced toward the waning crown of fire.
“Eighty percent contained,” my brother barked out. “We need water on the ridge over there. Let’s put this thing to bed.”
“The wind is going to change,” I said, but mostly to myself. At this point, I doubted there was anything I could say that my brother would listen to. I’d ignored orders.
