Page 4 of Fight

He stands and I follow suit. We shake hands, I offer one last thanks, then I’m on my way.

Exiting the office, I head to my car parked in the far corner of the lot. I can’t risk anyone snooping inside and seeing evidence that my car has been doubling as my house for the last few weeks. I’m making it work.

Turns out, a monthly gym membership is a lot cheaper than amonth in a hotel, and I get all the hot showers I want, plus the same amenities.Minus the bed.Thankfully, the employees assume I'm a gym rat instead of a homeless woman who needs a place to shower. On the bright side, I’m in the best shape of my life.

I’m keeping myself hidden halfway across the country. It’s a long way from the small town I grew up in—and the community who’s hellbent on making my life miserable.

If they’re smart enough to check my social security number, there’s a good chance they’ll call up my place of employment and cause trouble, but it’s been weeks since I’ve left. The coffee can I hid in the back of our kitchen cupboard had been slowly filling with coins and cash for almost a year. It’s gotten me all the way to Sky Ridge, Washington, which is about as far away from home as I can be—and I’ve never been happier.

I casually observe my surroundings before unlocking my car door and climbing inside. Pulling out of the parking lot, I drive straight to the local library to use their computers to download my vaccine records from the patient portal back home and send them to Noah.

Normally, I would have called my doctor’s office to have them fax the requested documents, but once they found out where the records were being faxed to, that information would get back to the council within the hour. Maybe they don’t even care that I’ve left, but I’m not taking my chances.

While in the library, I refresh my email again and again, waiting for the offer letter.Chill, Prescott. They aren’t going to send it immediately.I’ve got a few hours to kill.

I could go back to the gym and run on the treadmill, but the repetitiveness will make me more anxious than I am now. I’ve never been good at running in place; I need to be outside where I can be easily distracted by my environment.

Leaving the library, I get back in my car, turn on the music,and drive to one of the local trailheads. It’s a gorgeous day for a hike.

The lot is empty at midmorning, not unusual for a weekday when everyone’s at work. I swap my dress clothes and shoes for some hiking pants, a light jacket, and boots. The way the bluebird sky contrasts against the evergreen panorama is stunning.

I come from hill country, but driving northwest to Washington was the first time I ever saw real mountains. So high the tops are cloaked with snow, spearing into clouds. So wide you can’t see where it starts and ends.

The second my boots hit the trail, my mouth curves up in a smile. Being close to nature is where I’m happiest. The ground is painted a rich, warm sienna with fallen pine needles. I fill my lungs with the cool, damp autumn air and inhale the aroma of evergreens, letting the content feelings linger in my soul. This could be home. I could swim in these deep forests forever. After only a few short weeks, I yearn to root my life in the mountains.

After a mile or so, the forest opens to a clearing, and the sun’s rays warm my face as I tilt my head to drink my water. The path isn’t as visible in the open, so I follow the cairns, tall stacks of rocks set up by trail crews as a guide. There should be a lookout spot in the next couple miles. I focus on that objective rather than the phone weighing down my pocket.It’s too soon for the offer letter.

My thoughts wander as I pick up my pace and take in the landscape, enjoying the occasional marmot that peeks from behind an outcropping of rock—like the one chirping at me now.

“Hi, buddy. Just passing through.”

His hand twitches near his fuzzy yellow belly, and I smile as I pass by. Today will be a good day. I will get my job offer, then I’ll follow up with the landlord and get that studio apartment. Who knows, maybe I’ll even move in before the end of the week! I may not have furniture, but I’ve got an inflatable mattress. Honestly, the floor would probably feel better thanbeing scrunched up in the backseat of my car like I’ve been for the past few weeks.

Besides, there’s always something listed for free on the online classifieds. I’ve seen the condition of the building from the outside, and if the inside of the apartment is anything like the exterior, there’s a reason it has sat vacant for as long as it has. The place is a dump, but it’s about to bemydump. Shithole sweet shithole.

Up ahead is another sign with an arrow pointing to the left for the lookout. I take the route and continue daydreaming about my future here. This is my first time on this trail, but I’m hoping for a killer view at the top of the hill.

It doesn’t take me long to approach the vista. At the end of the path, a huge valley opens up to a dazzling lake, the sun’s reflection sparkling along the edges. Hills and forests go on as far as the eye can see. It’s spectacular.

Yeah. This could be home.

On the far end of the main street businesses is a big neon sign that reads BAR with an arrow pointing down at the worn brick building. Mae and Jack have been owners of the corner spot since before I moved here. Only locals know this bar is named Shifty’s, and only locals drink here—a majority of which are other hotshots. Not all of them live in town, but it became a local meetup of sorts years ago.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the blazing sunset outside to the dim light of the nearly windowless establishment. More neon signs decorate the interior, mostly beer advertisements. The heavy door falls shut behind me, and I’m met by the familiar musty scent and the sound of laughter from my buddies who are probably on their second round by now.

Tonight, we’re celebrating the completion of our most recent fire. It was a bitch, and we’re all tired, but it’s an excuse to go out and throw back a few. King and Xander are toward the middle, so I pull up a barstool beside them. As I do, a frosted Coors bottle is placed in front of me on the old worn pine bartop; the wood has yellowed over the years. I lift two fingers and nod thanks to Lou, the old bartender who knows us well.

King and Xander laugh at something Bobby said, so I take a swig of beer and get caught up in the conversation taking place. “So, he’s got a bunch of our guys standing in a hot-as-fuck Florida parking lot while the rest of the Washington D.C. folks had this big fancy catered lunch—because fuck us, right? They’re all chowing down on seafood in the nice cool air conditioning, meanwhile the firefighters aren’t even able to grab a bite to eat, on the off chance any of the bigwigs want to come out and see the trucks and crew. Like some kind of bullshit show-and-tell. So then—” Bobby chuckles. “After hours in the sun, it’s all over, right? And who comes strolling up with his pockets stuffed with peel-and-eat shrimp? Wyatt fucking Bradley. This jackass looks at the boys and says something about ‘It’s too bad you couldn’t come inside, because the food was phenomenal!’ while he’s standing therestill eating the pocket shrimp!”

“No way in hell the Chief of FS was eating pocket shrimp,” Xander says, shaking his head and bringing the rim of the beer bottle to his lips.

Bobby holds up his palm. “Hand to God.”

I roll my eyes and smile. That story’s made its way around a few times now. Though, last time it was told to me, the Chief of the Forest Service’s shirt was misbuttoned and his belt buckle was upside down too.

We go back and forth trading stories and rumors, as well as the upcoming assignments headed our way. Once fire season ends, I’ll have a few weeks to do whatever the hell I please before I start up with ski patrol at a local resort. It’s a great gig. Free time on the slopes and all the après-ski snow bunnies I can fit in my bed. Not a bad way to earn some extra cash. My thoughts wander to all my plans for the off-season.

“They just hired a new guy. EMT, I think,” Xander says, yanking me out of my thoughts.

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