Page 5 of Fireline

Flames leaped up from the trees lining the southern perimeter. Billowing columns of dense black smoke rolled through the air, dimming the sun to a dull red. Crackles and hisses emanated from the dead trees and fallen logs.

Nova keyed the radio to contact Commander Miles Dafoe to check on the air attack. They could use a water drop.

Vince sized up a birch tree for about twenty seconds. He cranked up his chainsaw and dogged in. The man was a magician with a saw. And with a father as a captain in Cal Fire, fire had probably been his whole life like it had been for Nova.

Finn, the youngest on the team, went to work cutting out the brush and downed logs. The rest of the crew started in with their Pulaskis, scraping away the forest litter down to mineral soil to make a barrier that would be hard for the fire to cross.

An hour later, Nova and Booth weren’t far from the first homestead when she heard a plane rumbling in the sky.

Her radio crackled. “Burns, we’re coming up on your area. Clear for drop?”

She checked with Logan, and he confirmed they were all outside the drop zone. “Ten-four, tanker. We’re clear for drop.”

“Copy.”

The plane rumbled in low. Overhead, there was a brilliant flash, and the air filled with rain. The water came down over the forest behind them.

“Let’s move,” Nova said to Booth. “The wind is pushing the fire fast. I’d like to get to those homesteads before it does.” Their best hope was to get to the houses and make sure the owners had evacuated.

She trailed behind Booth, stepping over rocks and branches and using her Pulaski as a walking stick. They kept roughly a hundred yards from the fire. Enough so they could keep an eye on it, but still close enough to feel the heat on the side of her face.

They walked maybe a mile through dense forest. The fire had slowed with the water drop. The air was not quite as smoky when they arrived at the narrow dirt driveway.

“There it is.” She jogged past Booth to a small cabin with a lean-to porch and knocked on the door. “Anyone home?”

Booth cupped his hands and pressed his face to the window. “It’s empty.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Looks like a one-room hunting cabin.” He pointed to an upright wooden rectangle over to the right of the cabin with a moon carved into the door. “Outhouse.”

“Huh. Must be a hotshot, or someone who knows about wildland firefighting.” Nova nodded to the twelve-inch-wide trench encircling the property.

“That’s some fire line,” Booth said. “How far to the next?”

“Half mile. Hydrate and let’s go.”

Booth struck out ahead, his long legs making the hustle easier for him. “You really think anyone’s there?”

“You’d be surprised.” She tried not to huff and puff with the heat and the exertion. “People are crazy about protecting their property.”

He stepped over a fallen tree blocking the path. “That sounds like personal experience talking.”

Nova’s heart stuttered a beat. It was personal experience talking, wasn’t it?

Her parents had refused to abandon their livelihood to a wildfire and died trying to save it. Even though it’d meant leaving her behind. They’d chosen the homestead over her. “Everyone finds their worth in something. Homes, jobs, kids, relationships. Sometimes it’s to their own detriment.”

He shot a glance over his shoulder.

She squinted. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. I mean, you’re right.” He skirted a boulder and used a tree limb to steady himself. “No one would stay up in these mountains without a really good reason.”

“People go into the wilderness to find solitude and serenity.” As if anyone ever could. Not completely.

“I heard you grew up on a homestead in the mountains. Did you find tranquility here?”

“No.”

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