Page 11 of Saved By the Firefighter

I frown, exchanging a worried look with Danielle. This could be a problem.

Tommy peers over curiously, his eyes wide. "How come they get to have a party?"

"They're probably college kids out on a road trip," I say lightly, not wanting to alarm him. "Why don't you take Moose back to your tent? We'll see you at dinner."

He nods and clips Moose's leash back on. Then he skips away.

When he's out of earshot I groan. "Ugh, seriously? This seems like bad timing."

"Already talked to the park ranger about them," Danielle says. "He promised to swing by and remind them about the noise curfew."

"Good." Another round of shouts erupts from the group, and I watch as they toss more wood onto their already roaring fire. "And hopefully the ranger will remind them to watch that fire. There's no reason to make it that big."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Danielle lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Now come on, let's finish this tent so we can get cooking before hangry kids descend on us."

I take one last wary look at the college kids before returning my focus to the tent. She's right, it will probably be fine. Still, I make a mental note to keep an extra close eye on my campers tonight.

I'm in the middle of a dream involving Jake—shirtless, of course—when I cough involuntarily, waking myself up. An acrid scent hits me and I cough again, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. What is that? Smoke. I bolt upright, my lungs rebelling against the intrusion. The tent around me glows a sinister orange, shadows dancing along the canvas. Did those damn college students leave their fire going all night?

I get on my knees to peek out the tent window, expecting to see their campsite fire blazing like before. I gasp, frozen. The outside world is completely shrouded in smoke and I can see two trees near that campsite engulfed in flames. My entire body tenses and my heart seems to stop—it's the most terrifying and awe provoking sight I've ever seen.

"Ellie, what's going—" Danielle's question dies in her throat as she follows my wide-eyed stare to the window of our tent.

"Fire!" I gasp out, scrambling to unzip the tent flap. The crackle and pop of burning wood fill my ears. Flames lick at the night sky, climbing the trees that border the college kids' campsite. It's hard to breathe, so I grab a shirt and use it to cover my nose and mouth.

"Jesus," Danielle breathes out, the color draining from her face as she stares.

"Come on. We need to wake everyone—now!" My words are sharp, clipped. In seconds, we have our shoes on and we're both outside, the blistering heat of the fire chasing us as we sprint toward the nearest tents in our PJs.

"Everyone up! Fire! We have to evacuate!" My voice is barely recognizable, strained and urgent, piercing through the crackling roar of the flames. Parents emerge from their tents with wide eyes, their expressions a mixture of confusion and growing fear as they take in the chaos unfolding before them. A chaperone wraps her trembling arms around two children, hushing their cries and whispering reassurances.

"Grab your kids, anything important, and head to the bus!" Danielle commands, her own fear masked by the steel in her voice. There's no time for anything except the essentials like a wallet and cell phone; everything else can burn because belongings are inconsequential when lives are at stake.

Chaperones scoop up children, their footsteps pounding urgently over the forest floor as they try to gather a few bags with shaking hands. I try to do a quick head count as they scramble around, my eyes darting from face to face. I count everyone, so that's good. Just to be safe, I count again, and I'll do another count on the bus.

A sudden gust of wind shakes the trees violently. It seems the clouds have started to roll in, but it's incredibly bad timing. The gust carries the fire closer to our site. When I glance up, a small flame is dancing along a tree branch.

"Forget any bags!" I shout, my voice raw and desperate. "To the bus immediately."

Danielle and I help to usher kids as the driver starts the bus. A father hoists his daughter onto his back, her small arms clinging to his neck; other chaperones are carrying kids and dragging others along, trying to remain calm but also borderline freaking out.

Tommy is heading the opposite direction of the bus, his eyes wide with panic, so I grab him, hoisting him into my arms and covering his mouth and nose with the shirt I was using. I cough, inhaling too much smoke, the acrid taste burning my throat. He's trying to fight me and say something but whatever it is can wait for the bus, for the safety of distance. There's no room for argument, no second-guessing as the fire is hungrily devouring everything in its path, closing in on our site, the heat searing against my skin. We need to get out before the road is blocked.

My heart is hammering against my ribcage, threatening to burst from my chest as I hand Tommy to a chaperone already on the bus, his small body trembling. Once it looks like everyone is in, I suppress a cough and hurry up the bus steps to do a headcount, my fingers gripping the rail tightly. Danielle is doing the same thing, her lips moving quickly as she counts.

We both look at each other, our eyes locking, and say, "Twenty-nine." That's everyone—twenty kids, six chaperones, the bus driver, me, and Danielle.

I exhale, but it only causes me to cough, my throat irritated and throbbing.

"Let's go. Go!" I tell the driver, a bit too forcefully. My panicked state is making me harsh, but it's understandable. And I'm just now realizing I'm abandoning my car. Whatever. If it burns, I'll get a new one because that's not important right now.

The bus shudders as it starts to inch backwards, its engine a low growl.

Suddenly, Tommy screams out and breaks free of the adult that was holding him. "Moose!" he screams, tears flooding down his face. "He's out there. I have to get him!"

My chest tightens. Did he get left tied to a tree? A knot starts to form in my throat as I try not to imagine what a horrible death that would be for the poor dog.

Danielle tries to hug Tommy as he attempts to push past her to the door. "Tommy, sweetheart, we have to go," she says, trying to sound calm, but the tremble in her voice betrays her fear.

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