By the time we reach the solid line of fire, my arms feel like they’re about to rip out of their sockets. The actual flames are only covering a stretch of a couple feet, but the grass behind them is smoldering, and I know it will be hot enough to ignite fabric.
Even though each delay is painful, I drop the rope and pump water from a nearby marshy patch onto the smoldering charred patch, trying to clear a patch wide enough for Dex to cross safely.
As quickly as I’m working, the flames are creeping in ahead of the area I’m spraying. The smoke is thicker than ever, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded, so I finally abandon my attempt.
Instead I drape one of Dex’s arms behind my neck and haul him onto my shoulders. I take a staggering step forward, then another. It’s all I can do to keep my legs from buckling beneath me, but I can do this. I have to.
Stepping on the patch of damp ashes, I stagger up to the line of fire and past, onto a stretch of unsinged grass. The wind is blowing from across the river, lifting the smoke away from the ground, so I feel like I can breathe properly again.
I carry Dex as far as I can manage, giving us a head start on the spreading fire. Then, my legs and arms shaking, I drop to my knees and let him slide back to the ground.
It doesn’t take long to drag him the final distance back to camp. Our tent is still standing where we left it, and someone’s dropped a shirt in their rush to evacuate, but otherwise there’s no sign that our crew was here less than an hour ago.
I fucking hope the helicopter is planning to come here. I don’t have any way to contact Chief Rhodes, and I don’t even know if this is a safe landing place any longer.
I pull one of the sleeping mats out of our tent and nudge Dex onto it, and then I kneel beside him, hoping like hell that I haven’t hurt him worse than he already was. I had to assumehe didn’t have a spinal injury, because there’s no gentle way to move someone in a situation like this.
“Dex,” I mutter. “You’d better be okay.”
My hands are shaking again, and this time it’s not from exhaustion. I look him over just for something to do, and that’s when I notice that his pants are singed near the cuff. When I roll them up, I realize he’s got a nasty burn on his ankle, the flesh raw and blistering. There isn’t much I can do about it with the limited first-aid supplies I have on me, so I leave it, the crushing feeling of uselessness settling on me again.
Why the fuck did I run off into the smoke like that? I should’ve known Dex would follow me.
I should’ve talked to him like an adult.
He’d just told me he loved me. No matter how I felt, he didn’t deserve to have me react that way.
It feels like hours pass, but it can’t have been that long, because the fire hasn’t reached us. At last I hear the distantchop-chop-chopof an approaching helicopter. I think I’m imagining it at first, but soon it’s close enough there’s no mistaking it.
Someone is leaning out of an open door holding a spotlight that’s scanning the ground, so I jump to my feet and wave my arms around, shouting, “We’re over here!”
For an agonizing moment, it seems like they’re going to pass us by.
Then the beam falls on Dex’s prone form.
The helicopter turns and angles down to land right beside us. It’s a much smaller one than we rode out to the fire in the first place, and it’s just two people flying in it—the pilot and the man with the searchlight.
“Are you Dex Oritz and Korren Ross?” the man shouts over the sound of the blades, jumping down to the grass.
“Yes!” I shout back. “Dex is unconscious! Can you help me lift him? I think he breathed in too much smoke.”
The pilot unbuckles herself and fetches a stretcher, which she lowers to us before climbing down to help. We strap Dex on and lift him into the back of the helicopter, where he’s secured down.
Then we’re lifting off again, the fires around us glowing a threatening orange through the curtains of smoke.
Chapter 43
Korren
We don’t fly far, just to a temporary medical station on the outskirts of Fairbanks where the evacuation order isn’t in place yet. We’re not the only firefighters getting treated, and the medical staff insist on looking me over even though I say I’m fine.
Meanwhile, Dex is hooked up to oxygen, and it’s not long before he revives.
I’m at his side immediately.
Shifting groggily, he pulls the oxygen mask off his face. “Where am I?” he mutters.
“Dex. Are you okay?”
