The crew I was working with wouldn’t be hitting the fire head on, or preventing its spread. We would be going through the burn zone putting out spot fires and digging smoldering root systems and stump holes.
It was hot, physical work, less dramatic than battling open flames but arguably just as important.
Armed with a water pack on my back and a special ax called a Pulaski in my hand I set out with the crew.
Every inch of land, every bush and tree and root had to be checked and extinguished.
The muscles in my shoulders ached as I swung the Pulaski, even though I was used to it. The pack on my back, charmingly named apiss can, weighed a ton and dug into my already sore muscles.
I kept an eye and an ear out for the rest of my crew.
It wasn’t my job to watch out for them. I had the experience though and it had long since become a habit to know where the rest of my crew was, especially the green ones.
It took no time for me to sweat through my shirt, my feet hot and sticky in my boots. Ash covered me from head to toe and my eyes ached from the grit.
I didn’t complain though.
This was important work. Honest work, just like I’d told Jasper up on that mountain. Even when my body ached and my throat was dry I kept going.
I stopped for a water break around midday and scanned the area. It looked almost like a scene from a sci-fi movie. Something not of this planet. The ground was gray dust, the trees bare of all leaves and needles, no birds or other animals to be seen.
It also looked deceptively calm, something I knew from experience, not to trust.
“Need water over here,” a voice called from my left. I recognized it as one of the new guys. His first season fighting fire, so I hurried over to help. As I approached with my ax in hand I scanned for smoke threads curling from the ash. There were always ways to tell when roots were still smoldering if you knew what you were looking for.
The area the younger firefighter had called about had a tall snag in the middle. It was burned, stripped of all bark and greenery, potentially unstable. Smoke rose from the ground around it and a spot of flame still danced in what remained of the underbrush.
A strong wind moved through the valley, scattering dust. I squinted my eyes against it, felt it dry my throat even though I’d just had a drink.
I dropped to my knees near the snag, pressing my palm to the ground. It was still holding too much heat for there not to be activity underground.
“Still active underneath, fall back,” I said.
The young firefighter was mid-swing with his Pulaski as I spoke and the tool hit the ground, breakingthe soil over the smoldering roots.
A low rumble answered back.
A warning of what was about to happen.
“Shit,” he said, stumbling backwards.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him with me, both of us retreating fast over uneven ground. My pack was heavy and exhaustion weighed my limbs.
I glanced over my shoulder as the snag continued to shift, just leaning at first but then gravity took over.
“Move!” I shouted. It was almost too late and I knew it but I yelled anyway and continued to scramble away, pulling him with me.
The tree came down an instant later. Hitting the ground with a deadly thump. Ash swirled and thickened the air.
The young firefighter went down, dragging me with him. We hit the ground, the weight of our tools pulling us down harder, and then it all went white.
Chapter Sixteen
Jasper
My phone rang just as I was getting home from a long shift. Probably a telemarketer, but I pulled it out of my pocket anyway.
Kara.
