Ring of Fire

by David Agranoff

  Austin thought about the ash. A fire huh? She thought she knew where he would be. She turned to walk towards her bike.

  “Hey, stay away from the river.”

  Smelly Pete pulled out a cigarette. He wasn’t allowed to smoke when Robbins was around.

  “What’s up with the river?”

  ***

  Scott was the last on his team to open his iPad. He didn’t know when they had crossed into California, but they had been in the air almost two hours pushing the chopper to its max speed. He looked at his brother’s number in his phone and thought about texting him. He wanted to clear the air and talk, didn’t want to send a text, but it was too loud on the chopper. Annie stepped back from the cockpit, her voice in the headphones still sounded like screaming.

  “Everybody have their maps?”

  Scott almost gasped when he saw the map. The metropolitan area of San Diego was in green. Not far from the fire. The map highlighted the various freeways throughout the city. The county seemed as big as Delaware. Outside of locals, most didn’t know so many mountains and rural areas were a part of eastern San Diego County. The closest major population center was the city of El Cajon, but closer to the fire were little towns like Ramona, Santee and Lakeside. It was his job to know how to read these maps, and he had studied hundreds before starting jobs like this.

  The map had been updated just once since they were in the air. The speed with which the fire was moving was unnatural.

  Scott addressed the group “Are you folks watching this shit?”

  Annie nodded and gave one last look at the map. “OK, folks, this fire is twenty-six hours old give or take. It is really twelve separate fires that are connecting hour by hour. Old Santa Ana is not our friend gusting out of the east at twenty miles per hour, that motherfucker is spitting embers everywhere. Flames are hopping freeways, popping up. Structure losses started around noon yesterday. We have record speeds. This fire is no joke, moving south by southwest towards the city. Forty thousand structures in the path.”

  Even over the chopper the crew’s reaction could be heard. Riccardi closed his eyes and dipped his head back. This fire was a monster and they all knew it. They were one of the best hotshot crews on the west coast, but even with a hundred crews they would be like sand castles trying to hold back a tide.

  Tucker stood up and pulled his microphone down so he could speak. “No bitching. This is the job. FAA has shut down the airport. This city has several major military bases and they are all mobilized to support us. We have more agencies than Rivers has angry ex-girlfriends.”

  Riccardi hit Scott on the shoulder and mouthed the word impossible.

  “National Guard, FEMA – Christ, we got all the Marines Pendleton can spare so this is not a typical fight. Forest service and the locals in San Diego have done this before. “

  Scott knew about the cedar fire in 2003, nearly burned down the city. At first glance, this fire looked like a twin, one all hotshots working the west have studied in their off-season. He used his finger and thumb to zone out the map. The locations of the fire outbreaks pulsed in yellowish red. He moved the map into the San Diego city limits. He followed small red dots in the north metro area. He had played college football here at San Diego State, understood that every neighborhood in the city had canyons filled with dry brush. He saw that small fires had broken out in canyons crossing east and west above the main population center. They were still small but they were dangerous, almost like tinderboxes lined in the direction of the city.

  Jake clicked his radio.

  “Hey, boss, what about these fires in the canyons in the metro.”

  “The canyons are metro’s problem.” Annie shook her head. “We got fires down south too, but this is triage mode.”

  “They don’t know how to fight fires like those?” Riccardi said and laughed. Not really amused, more like disgusted.

  Scott kept his eyes on the map and zoomed out. He found the little dots that represented the fire. He enabled a marker icon and started to connect the dots. Riccardi watched him circle the city except the coast. Scott held up his iPad.

  “Boss, if those connect?”

  She didn’t respond, just pointed at him before going back to her seat in the cockpit. Annie had been the commander he had since joining the crew. She knew it was a stressful job. She didn’t like worst case scenarios, what she called “doomsday talk.” They had lost friends on the line. They were one season removed from one of their crew, Frank Hutton, burning to death in eastern Oregon. Jake sat back and looked out the window. The sky was still blue but it would not be long before they were on the ground.

  ***

  One of the perks of being chief of staff was his own bathroom. This gave him a chance to stare at himself and wonder if he was ready in private. He did this back at the condo. Youngest chief of staff in the history of the 8th largest city in the country, one on an international border. He tried to make his first day as simple as possible, focused entirely on the new library branch. A project the Mayor had been promising the city council would come in under budget. Currently two months ahead of schedule it was a proud accomplishment for city hall.

  He looked at his watch, and was a minute late for his meeting. He had to wash his hands one more time. Martin turned on the cold water and rubbed his hands under it. A slight steam rose. Martin shut off the water and stepped back. He looked at his towel, didn’t dry just smelled his hands. Like rotten eggs. He reached down and turned the water back on just above a trickle, and leaned down to sniff the stream. He could smell it, a little stronger.

  Chuck leaned in his office door, ready to rip his head off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Martin didn’t know how to answer that, he just shut off the water and dried his hands. He ran across the office towards the main conference room.

  Martin left the mayor’s seat open at the head of the conference table. Chuck sometimes sat there when the mayor was elsewhere. They all knew he could come in at any moment. The chief of police and the chief of the fire department were in uniform, but the fire chief had sweat through his shirt already. The mayor’s policy director, Stephen, was helping disconnect his laptop from the projector and the director of emergency services from the city was connecting her iPad to the signal.

  Everyone cringed when they saw the latest map.

  “Shit.” Chuck and Stephen said together.

  Martin stood up and walked to the map. Martin tried rubbing his hands on his pants. He had forgotten for a moment about it, but he smelled the rotten smell again. He was worried others smelled it. He tried to keep his focus.

  “How did this happen so quick?”

  “Bigger than the Cedar fire already.” The chief of police sounded angry. She was holding something back. “We have outbreaks all over the county.”

  “Most are tiny,” Stephen tapped his pen on the conference table. He always tried to minimize everything. Martin never mistook it for positivity, the man was lazy.

  The fire chief shook his head. “With high winds and the underbrush serving as tinder we could find ourselves surrounded if these little fires start connecting.”

  Stephen pointed at the map. “Most of this looks federal.”

  “It was federal. Most of yesterday we were told it was contained.” The fire chief’s red cheeks looked bright compared to his stark white hair. “I can’t tell you how many agencies are out there. Miramar and Pendleton are sending who they can.”

  Martin stood up and walked the length of the table. He stood behind the police chief. He was aware how close she was. He shook his hands in his pockets. “We need the mayors of all the suburbs on a conference with us as soon as possible.” He saw Stephen taking notes. For the first time this was his call. The fire was moving quickly.

  “Mayor should address the public. The ash is practically snowing.” Stephen was still writing as he spoke. “Reassure people we are tackling this problem.”

  “Are we?” Martin looked at the fire chief.
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  The older man shook his head. “We are trying, but that ash for one thing is going to get worse. The brush, trees and structures in its path. . .”

  Martin walked to the conference room window. He didn’t see it at first but watched the faint trickle of ash.

  “We have to close schools.”

  Stephen laughed. “The kids just got there. Parents are at work. You’ll cause a panic.”

  Martin kept his eyes out the window for a long moment. Counting to ten inside, not wanting to blow up on Stephen.

  “How long before they can’t breathe at school. Cedar Fire was state of emergency, everything was shut down. The air was toxic.” They were all natives they all lived through it.

  “I have to agree. It might be early.” The police chief folded her hands on the table. “It will set off panic. Give me a few hours to pull in extra staff. I need overtime approvals.”

  Martin nodded. He hoped they would not be too late.

  ***

  Austin rode her bike down Adams Avenue and watched the traffic passing her. She thought she knew where Robbins was and it would only take her a few minutes. She turned off the busy street and passed mostly empty houses. The neighborhood was full of families either at work or in school. Robbins had spots throughout the city where he sat and “watched civilization.”

  She had known him all her life, but this behavior didn’t start until he lost his job. He had started the book long before the university let him go. Long before either of them were living on the streets Robbins was a friend of Austin’s mother. They had been a part of the small but active social justice movement in this military-centric conservative city. Austin didn’t really know him until after her mother was gone. He was one of the few in either homeless or activist circles that never flirted with her or made her uncomfortable. He always called her sister and she knew he meant it because her long lost mother was someone he considered a sister in the struggle. Robbins often referred to her mother as Sister Val or Sister Valerie.

  Austin rode her bike to the lawn of a house on the cliff overlooking Mission Valley. She locked her bike to a stop sign and walked between the houses. Just as she expected, Robbins was sitting on a rock not far from the drop-off. The column of smoke rose in the distance between mountains. At first she thought it looked like a tornado that had been paused. Austin understood now where the ash was coming from.

  “Big fire.”

  Robbins only turned to look at her for a second. He was back looking in his binoculars when she sat down next to him. His greying dreadlocks were tied back sticking out of his Padres hat that he had worn for almost five years.

  “There are several fires coming to together in East County, and heading our direction.” Robbins pulled out a bandanna and wrapped it over his face. “Smelly Pete tell you where I am?”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  He handed her the binoculars. “What am I looking at?”

  “The Santa Ana’s blowing the embers everywhere. It’s jumping freeways.”

  Austin didn’t know what she was looking for. He offered her a bandanna. She held up her own. Robbins gave her a look. He knew she didn’t track him down for nothing.

  “The fish are dead. In the river.”

  She had his attention.

  “How many?”

  “A lot. Looks like all of them.”

  Robbins chuckled. “Old Robbins he crazy, that is what everybody say.” Robbins pointed at his notebook. “DDT, Mercury and PCP, no filters in the world catch that shit. All summer without rain, that stuff builds up on the roads. One good rain and it collects in the storm drains. Birds will be next.”

  She had heard it before but today was different. “The river stinks.”

  “Does it smell like gasoline, like when you are at the pump?”

  Austin rolled her eyes. She had been on the streets since before she was old enough to drive. She had never been behind the wheel of a car or pumped gas.

  “It smelled like bug spray. You know, like an exterminator dumped his shit right into the river.”

  Robbins opened his notebook, and shuffled through pages. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Carrier caused a massive fish die-off in Indiana by draining refrigerator coolant. Chapter eight!” He pointed at the notebook. “The fish breathe that water. It is buried in their skin. People eat them and then what?”

  “I know, I know, they will find us floating in the river.”

  “I told you to stop camping so close to the water. The ocean is no better. The ice caps are melting and unleashing diseases trapped in the ice. Our bodies can’t fight outdated bacteria.”

  “You pitch under a bridge, what about car fumes?”

  Robbins thought on that a moment. “Air pollution is addressed numerous times in Tipping Point. How many times do I have to remind you of the bottom line?”

  “If there is no escape. So . . . why not live by the river? Eat steaks and smoke cigarettes.”

  Robbins raised an eyebrow. “What would your mother have said?”

  Low blow. Austin never liked the topic of her mother. It just filled her with anger and sorrow. The unfairness of it all.

  “Well she isn’t here now, is she?”

  Robbins nodded. “I wish she was.”

  Austin kicked the dirt in front of her off the cliff edge. Robbins stood up, sighing as his aching bones cracked slightly.

  “Where you going?”

  She knew. The library would open soon. He would get on a computer, update the book and check his blog. He was active on Twitter but only had 20 followers. Tipping Point was his focus every day.

  “I got a bad feeling about today.” He walked toward the road. Austin dusted off her ass and followed.

  “Oh, yeah? Why?”

  “I think I am finally right.”

  Chapter Four

  Jake walked into the front office of the radio station and found Suzanne who worked the front desk looking disheveled.

  “Hey, Suzie?”

  Looking caught, Suzanne had a coffee cup under her nose.

  “Oh, you made it. Alex said to buzz you right in.” Suzanne hit the button and the lock snapped open. “Oh, yeah, don’t drink the coffee it smells funny.”

  The office had two doors. One opened to an FM pop radio station and the other led to the sports radio offices. Jake walked through and saw Will Goldberg was already in his office at the end of the hall. The producers of the various talk shows gathered in the small kitchen off the front door. Alex, the Willy Billy producer, saluted Jake with his soda and followed him towards the studio.

  “So, Will doesn’t know that Bill called out.”

  Jake cringed because The Willy Billy show was one of rhythm. Bill Shocker was a team player. Long after his football career he had made a mark on radio by being the Willy-Billy wing man. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, knew when to laugh and Will Goldberg hated going on the air without him. Will didn’t trust anyone else on his wing.

  Alex leaned in Will’s office. He still had his light windbreaker on and leaned back in his chair. He had just stepped in the door too.

  “You’re fucking kidding me. Alex, where the fuck is Bill?”

  Jake laughed. He had filled in on the radio before, and had been a hit. The only difference was that he was covering both hosts. Jake wasn’t in the mood. He had agreed to this on his way to the doctor. He didn’t want to be on the air so soon after being punched in the gut, and he wasn’t in the mood for Will’s shit.

  “Whatever.” Jake turned around and walked to the door. Alex grabbed his arm and held him in place. Jake felt sorry for Alex. Everyone had great respect for Will, but he was a pain in the ass to work for.

  “Hold on.”

  “Oh, Christ,” The Jewish man said, as he took off his windbreaker. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m mad at Bill not you.”

  Jake relaxed but didn’t quite turn around.

  “Jakey, come on. It’s not you, I swear. Let’s have a good show.”

&n
bsp; Jake nodded. “Sorry I had a rough morning.”

  “No shit. That traffic, huh?”

  Jake didn’t care about the traffic, but he wasn’t able to talk about what was really bothering him. He nodded. “Yeah, traffic.”

  “Two minutes!” Alex held up two fingers.

  Jake looked at the clock. It was almost nine AM. Will handed him show notes and walked past him into the studio. The notes had segments broken down into 15 minute sections. He went into the studio booth. Jeff, the morning host, was going solo. His co-host Dave had also called in. Jeff didn’t say hello or look up as Jake walked in. He kept blowing up the clock going over his time.

  Will spun his finger to signal him to hurry up.

  “I have had enough with all these ham and egger dopes in this town. Enough already. You’re a minor league city, San Diego. Mayberry by the beach. . .”

  The same radio safe speech Dave and Jeff gave every morning. Off the air, Jeff was a good co-worker, and one of the more pleasant guys in the office. On the air, he was a world class smartass who insulted everyone else working in the media in this town. Jake tuned it out as he situated his notes. He couldn’t keep straight who Jeff liked or hated, as it changed segment to segment.

  He saw Alex setting up and putting on headphones in the booth. The main booth had eight microphones that were on stretchy arms that made it looked like an over-turned spider.

  Jeff signed off and dropped his headphones around his neck. The station sounder played before an ad for medifast weight control centers played on. Jeff laughed and looked at Jake. “Oh, brother. My man Will lose his shit we he saw you?”

  Jake smiled. “He did.”

  “Don’t take it personal. These jerk-offs take the minor leagues a little too seriously.”

  Will shook his headphones at Jeff. “Where is your half?”

  Jeff shrugged and stood up giving his chair to Jake. Leslie who did the sports center updates had also called in. It said on the notes that Alex would do the updates.

  Will pulled the microphone closer. “Alex, you updating the fire?”

  Alex’s voice blared in Jake’s headphones. He turned them down. “Telling people to tune into KOGO for real time updates.”