Page 89 of Rain After Fire (Balsam Ridge 3)

He turns to me. “It means that whatever happened on that mountain, the people hurt are too critical to be helped by our ambulance service or local hospitals.”

Oh no.

“Do you know who they are picking up?” I ask Hilton.

He shakes his head.

“Approximately eight firemen got trapped on the back ridge. They were completely surrounded by the fire and couldn’t hold it back.”

“Corbin?” I ask.

He brings his eyes to mine. “He went after them. No one has been able to make contact with him since.”

“No. No. No. No,” I say as I start backing up.

I’m stopped by something hard and warm, and before I know what’s happening, Langford turns me in his arms.

He doesn’t even try to tell me everything is going to be okay. He just holds me upright and lets my tears soak his shirt.

Don’t take him, Lord. Please don’t take him.

Maxi

All we can do is wait.

We gather around the television and watch the news, hoping they will be able to tell us something.

From their news helicopter, they keep showing footage of Plott Mountain glowing in the night.

Smoke can be seen for miles, captured on the National Weather Service radar. They are reporting that an estimated five hundred acres have been lost and that the fire has been eighty percent contained.

“Eighty percent is good, right?” Ansley asks.

“As long as the wind doesn’t kick up too much before it’s a hundred percent,” Hilton replies.

Before the station cuts to commercial, the anchor looks into the camera.

“A storm front has just made its way to Balsam Ridge, bringing heavy rain. Things can be replaced; people can’t,” he says. “We’re all hoping everybody came off that mountain.”

Three and a half long hours later, we get word that the fire has been extinguished.

We should feel some sort of relief, but we don’t. Not until those men come walking through the door.

I sit quietly with the Tuttle family. I might not be one of them, but I damn sure am not leaving this spot until I know Corbin is okay.

It takes another two hours before the firefighters start trickling into town hall.

I watch as they come in, one by one. Face after soot-covered face. None of them is Corbin’s.

Panic rises in me as Erin holds my hand.

Where is he?

Sara-Beth demands Hilton go outside and find him, but he doesn’t move.

Someone calls from across the room, “Who are we missing?”

“Jay, Mike, and Corbin from Valley Fire and Rescue,” one of the Red Cross volunteers shouts back.

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