Page 26 of The Hotshot's Prize
This is it.
This is how it ends.
Just like my father. Trapped. Burned. Smoke in the lungs. Ash in the throat.
I’ve imagined this moment—Lord knows I’ve imagined it. Hell, sometimes I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A clean ending. Better than the dragging weight of grief and guilt.
But now, all I can think isNo.
No.
I don’t want to die.
Not here. Not like this. Not with this empty ache in my chest and her name trapped in my throat.
I want to see her again. I need to tell her I’m sorry. That I should’ve asked for her number. Should’ve told her she makes me feel alive in a way nothing else ever has.
I want to kiss her when we’re both clean and safe and calm—not high on the adrenaline of an emergency situation.
I want to take her on a stupid, perfect date. Watch her roll her eyes at me. Learn what her laugh sounds like when she’s not holding back.
I want more.
God, I want more.
I drop to the ground, crawl under the dense brush, shield my face with my arm. I press the fire shelter release on my belt and pray I can get it out in time.
All around me, the world glows orange.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I make a promise to myself…if I live through this, I’m going to find her.
I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what it costs me—I will find her.
I hear a familiar voice shouting nearby.
Nate. The team leader.
Someone shouts back, but I can’t make out the words.
The wind screams over the ridge, carrying smoke like a blanket of poison. The fire’s no longer behaving, it’s consuming.
“We should leave,” someone calls out, closer now, their voice edged with urgency.
“Not without Zack!” Nate barks.
Flames lash at the treetops, and for a split second, it feels like the forest itself is turning on them. Then there’s movement, like someone’s sprinting in my direction.
I can hear them. I want to call out, but my throat is filled with smoke, my eyes burning like someone sealed them shut with goddamn lava.
After that, it’s a blur of fire and noise. And heat like a freight train screaming through the forest.
The next thing I know, Nate is calling my name from right above me, his voice piercing the haze in my head. “Zack! Jesus, man—come on!”
I try to lift my head. “Did we…stop it?”
“Not yet,” Ben mutters, hooking his arms under my shoulders. “We’re getting your stubborn ass out of here first.”
“And Carter?” I rasp, choking on smoke.
