Page 13 of Saved By the Firefighter

Moose is barking, but he's being a good dog and following me without a fight. I stumble a little over a branch, then I stumble over my own feet, falling to the ground. Moose comes up and licks my face, but I push him away, really struggling to breathe.

I can't stop coughing. Maybe if I just lay on the ground where there's less smoke, I can recover enough to keep going. I'm suddenly exhausted, so I curl into a ball, covering my face. Moose's leash is securely tied around my wrist so he won't get away again.

I just need a moment. Then I'll be fine.

The last thing I hear over the roar of the crackling fire is the sound of barking, frantic and close, as though Moose is calling for help. I slip into darkness.

Chapter 6

Jake

The siren pierces the night as I tightly grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, focused solely on the winding road ahead. My heart hammers inside my chest, adrenaline already pumping through my veins. I know every second brings us closer to the raging fire engulfing Deer Creek campground. Lives are at stake.

"Two minutes out," Elijah calls from the seat beside me, his voice steady despite the urgency.

"Copy that," I reply.

We round the last bend, the orange flames dancing violently against the dark sky. My eyes fixate on a yellow bus parked dangerously close to the inferno—a bus from Ellie's school. Fear floods my body, thoughts spiraling. Are there children still inside? Is Ellie here?

No, why would Ellie be here? There are tons of classes at the elementary school, so the chances are low. I only hope all the children made it out safe. Still, that school bus shouldn't be parked here.

I barely wait for the truck to stop before jumping out, Elijah on my heels. Our other teammates wait in the truck as our boots hit the ground running and we assess the scene quickly. I see several small faces looking at me from inside the bus—it must be some kind of field trip. They definitely picked the wrong weekend to camp.

A disheveled woman stumbles from the bus, her pajamas a kaleidoscope of colors so bold they have no business being in a place like this—flamingos and palm trees in a neon clash. She's sobbing. My chest tightens.

"Are any kids hurt?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

"Then we need to move this bus now."

She shakes her head again, mumbling incoherently between frantic gasps. Elijah calls for backup on the radio while I gently grasp her shoulders.

"Take a breath, miss. We're going to move this bus to safety. Now tell me, slowly, what's happening."

"We can't, we can't," she sobs. "There's...she's back there..."

"Who? Someone is trapped in the campground?"

She nods.

"Where?"

"Site twenty-six...Ellie...went to find...the dog...She..."

"Ellie Carter?" The name punches the air from my lungs. "Are you telling me Ellie's back there?"

"Y-yes." Her nod is frantic, desperate.

Ellie is...? Not Ellie.

My demeanor cracks and I spin toward the truck. I'm about to break protocol, about to charge into hell for one woman, and it terrifies me more than the inferno itself. Because losing Ellie isn't an option.

I sprint back to the truck, Elijah on my heels.

"We need to wait for aerial support!" he yells as the truck lurches forward.

I ignore him, consumed by a single thought—I have to find Ellie. Adrenaline pounds through me as we near the flames. I jerk the truck to a stop as close as I can to site 26, jolting Elijah forward, along with every other firefighter in the truck. As our teammates don't question anything and simply get to work, my boots hit the ground, gravel crunching under the weight of my decision. I tug my helmet on and face the flames.

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