Radclyffe - Firestorm

Sully intercepted her in the middle of the yard, a printout in his hand. “Ridgeline up in Bitterroot. Regional fire management operator thinks the winds will push it down the mountain too fast for a controlled burn. He wants it contained.”

“Got it,” Mallory said. “I’ll radio the status before we drop.”

“Good. Safe trip.”

“Right,” Mallory replied automatically and hustled into the ready room with the rest of the crew. Her personal gear and chute were already packed and hanging from a peg just inside the door. Her field trauma kit was there too. All the firefighters had basic first aid training, but she was the only paramedic on the team. She kicked off her work boots, slid into her jump pants and jacket, and pulled on thick socks and her logging boots. After securing her hard hat to the side of her pack, she shrugged into her gear and jogged back across the yard to the plane. Benny had already taxied out of the hangar and Mallory waited at the cargo bay door to check each jumper as they climbed aboard, ensuring they had secured their chutes and loaded all their gear. She slowed as Jac and Sarah crossed the tarmac toward her.

“What’s the word?” Sarah asked.

“Ridge fire at Bitterroot.”

“How big?”

“Not sure yet. This early in the season, it’s probably small. Pretty wet still.”

“Probably,” Sarah said.

Mallory shrugged. “We’ll dig line, start a back fire, probably have it contained by morning.” She glanced up at the sky where the sun was just rising. Cloudless. Cold. “If the wind doesn’t rise.”

“Uh-huh. The winds are tricky up there on Bitterroot.” Sarah didn’t need to say anything else. There’d been a near disaster there several years before. A smokejumping crew had been overtaken by a fire that had chimneyed up a ridge and caught them in a blowup. That team had been luckier than Mallory’s had the summer before. They’d all gotten under their fire tents in time, and they’d all survived. Her crew hadn’t. Phil Marcum never made it to the safety zone she had picked. He’d been caught in the blaze. His body had been nothing but cinders. Danny O’Donnell couldn’t get his fire tent open in time. He had died of smoke inhalation a few feet away from where Mallory had lain with her face in the dirt, enclosed in her own fire-resistant cocoon, listening to the fire rage over her head. She’d never know if those men had died because she’d made an error in predicting the direction a blowup would take when she’d spotted the safety zone, or if they might still be alive if she had sensed the fire about to jump a minute sooner than she had. The after-operation investigation had cleared her of any error in judgment or execution, but she knew better. She had been in charge. Two men had died on her watch, and she would be forever responsible. Mallory shoved the guilt back down. “Ought to be an easy one.”

“Uh-huh,” Sarah said again, her solemn expression telling Mallory she knew differently.

“I’ve got to go.” Mallory didn’t have time to give assurances Sarah wouldn’t believe. Sarah had as much as said at the end of the last season she was worried Mallory would take chances, trying to make up for something that wasn’t her fault. “You’re senior while I’m gone, Sarah. Check on my injured rookie, will you? Ray Kingston. Any problems, transfer him out.”

“I will—don’t worry about it.”

Mallory couldn’t pretend not to see Jac any longer. Jac stood next to Sarah with her hands balled in the pockets of her cargo pants, looking a little rumpled and a lot sexy. Had it really only been a few minutes since they had crowded together on her cot, pretending to feed each other but doing something far more intimate? Mallory’s lips still tingled from where Jac’s fingers had grazed them. She felt the weight of Jac’s body leaning against her legs, and her belly quivered. Whatever had happened between them had been sidelined by the klaxon, and just as well. Jac’s eyes were stormy now and every bit as hot as they had been upstairs. Mallory couldn’t afford to get lost in those kinds of clouds, not with anyone, but certainly not with a rookie whose mere presence almost made her forget the cost of getting too close. She squeezed Sarah’s arm and pointed at Jac. “Listen to Sarah. Don’t screw up, rookie.”

Jac stepped closer, then halted abruptly as if surprised she’d moved at all. “I’ll wait till you get back to do that.”

Mallory shook her head. “Then I’ll try to make it quick.”

“You do that,” Jac said. “See you soon…Mal.”

Hiding her smile, Mallory turned away and jogged to the plane. She climbed on, checked that all the crew were there and strapped in, and gave Benny the thumbs up. She slid the cargo door closed and made her way up front to the cockpit. Settling into the seat opposite Benny’s, she buckled in and didn’t look out the window as they taxied away. Superstition, maybe. Maybe she just didn’t want to see Jac’s figure disappearing in the distance.

Once airborne, Benny said, “Sully radioed they’ve got a tanker dropping mud before you land.”

“Good. The retardant along with the snow ought to make our job easier, even though it’s hell to slog through that crap on the ground.”

“Not to worry. I’ll circle until the tanker leaves, and you can find a nice clean spot for your landing.”

“Thanks.” Mallory laughed. As long as no one ended up in a tree, she’d be happy.

Thirty minutes later she caught the first sign of the smoke column climbing into the sky. The fire stretched out along a quarter of a mile of ridge in dense forest. Snow still covered patches of ground, which would make clearing the line a little bit harder but might help contain the fire front. She pointed to a clear spot in the trees. “Over there.”

Benny banked in that direction so she could get a better look. Mallory checked several spots until she found a landing zone close to the fire front, but flanking it and not littered with boulders.

“That looks good.” Mallory radioed their position and reported the initial fire assessment to the local fire station.

The base supervisor radioed back. “Do you need ground support?”

“Not at this time,” Mallory answered. “Will advise after we establish our control lines.”

“Roger.”

Mallory clapped Benny’s shoulder. “We’re out of here.”

“Stay safe,” Benny said.

“Right.”

Back in the cargo hold, Mallory signaled for the team to clip on and prepare to off-load. She slid back the cargo bay door and waited while Benny flew over the landing zone, then tapped the first pair to go. On his fourth pass, she jumped with Cooper, and Benny headed for home.

In a matter of seconds, the frigid air whipped around her and numbed her face and body. She landed stiffly, jolting hard on the ground despite automatically flexing her knees and falling to her side at the instant of impact. Ignoring the bone-jarring pain, she jumped up, checked to see that the rest of the team had landed safely, and collected her chute. After a fast confirmation of the fire status, she dispatched the team and radioed the local base with a status update. Once done, she took her place on the line—farthest from the safety zone. If anyone got caught too far out ever again, it wouldn’t be one of her crew.

Everyone knew what to do. They’d done it dozens of times before. Mallory set to work with her pulaski—part-hoe, part ax—clearing melting snow, clumps of ice, rotting leaves, and other debris along a ten-foot-wide line in front of the fire. She removed everything flammable down to the dirt—chopping roots, digging out stumps, scraping away undergrowth until nothing remained to feed the advancing flames. Men with saws took down larger trees and dragged them away.