Fire From the Sky: Trial by Fire

by N. C. Reed

  “Gonna be a long day,” Ronny sighed.

  “It could be very long,” Abigail nodded. “We better get moving. Don't forget to relay what I said,” she told Leanne.

  “We 'll get to it right away,” she promised as she and Jonathon headed for her golf cart. “Be careful, all of you,” she said, looking directly at her father.

  “Promise,” Ronny made a 'cross-my-heart' symbol that made his daughter smile, and then everyone was moving.

  “Let’s go,” Leanne told Jonathon. “We have a lot of rounds to make.”

  -

  It was a valiant effort. No one could have denied that. Any of Abigail's old crew would have said that the people fighting to save the ranch and their homes had done a magnificent job, especially considering they had no training at all.

  But by lunch time it was clear they were not going to get the break completed. In fact, they had managed to get just under half of what Abigail had wanted done, with an actual average of fifty-five feet along the five-mile front. Normally that would have been more than sufficient. It would in fact have been overkill in most cases.

  But spot fires had been breaking out all morning as hot embers from the wind driven fire fell among tinder dry woods between them and the fire. Normally that might have actually helped as it would deprive the fire of fuel as it spread, but in this case, it really hadn't helped their cause. All it had done was make Abigail realize her worst fears. That the break might not be wide enough.

  As noon grew closer she had made her decision.

  “Get everyone out,” she ordered as she spoke to her uncles. “I'm going to make one more pass with the plow while you get everyone moving. Once they're clear, I 'll be the last one out. As soon as we get everyone back across the creek, make sure everyone gets fed and then rests. If the break doesn't hold then we 'll be fighting spot fires for hours across the ranch. And we have to spread out because we 'll have to fight most of them by hand.”

  “We can set the twin's pump up near the buildings, probably behind the big barn where it can draw from that small pond. Otherwise it's just shovels and rakes and wet towels and mudflaps. If we can hold out until the fire hits the break and dies from lack of fuel, and if our flanks hold, then we should be okay.”

  “And if we can't?” Clay asked.

  “Then Leon's idea of preparing for evacuation will come in handy,” she said flatly.

  “We're on it,” Ronny told her. “Go west, Clay. I 'll take east. Let’s go. And you,” he looked at Abby. “One pass and haul ass or we come to get you.”

  “I'm just using the time you need to get them clear to make one more pass,” she promised. “The way things are moving, if we don't get everyone out soon they 'll be in the dead zone before long, and that's too dangerous even for professionals. A sudden gust can carry a fire hundreds of yards in no time if the fuel source is right, and there are a lot of sage fields around here. If you've never seen a sage field catch fire, I recommend doing it from a distance. The fire can cross a fifty-yard field in under a minute, and that's without a favoring wind. With it? You're dead.”

  No one had anything to add to such a grim warning.

  -

  “The fire is still a long way off,” Franklin George semi-objected.

  “It's not as far as you think, and the fire is growing in this wind,” Ronny told him. “And it will take a while for us to all get clear. So, we go. Now.”

  “Very well,” George nodded and started calling to those working under his supervision. “We 'll be on our way out as soon as we can gather everyone up.”

  Along the line everyone heard the call and gathered tools and gear. Once they were all assembled and everyone accounted for, they piled into a pair of trucks that had been used to ferry them back and forth, and started for home.

  Behind them, smoke billowed high into the sky, clearly visible over the tree tops to their north. As they looked, it was clear that the smoke extended much further than the break they had carved over the last two days. The fire now stretched far to either side of their attempt to shield their homes, burning everything in its path.

  It was a sobering scene to be leaving behind.

  -

  Abigail was halfway through her final pass along the break when her dozer sputtered and died.

  “No, no, no!” she groaned as she checked the gauges and dials that showed her the health of her machine. She knew she had fuel so it had to be something else. She tried restarting it, but the dozer flatly refused to run or even start. She had no idea why it had stopped or what was keeping it from running. Though she had fuel, it was as if the engine wasn't getting it.

  “Maybe the fuel line let go,” she muttered to herself. She stepped off the operator deck and walked along the tread to the cowling. The engine was still hot and she had to be careful where she placed her hands. A cursory examination showed that the line was at least still connected. If there was a break or a leak, it was somewhere beneath where she couldn't see it. Without hesitation she bailed off the tread and crawled underneath, a small penlight in her hand. She followed lines from start to finish over the next five minutes but could find nothing wrong.

  Pulling herself back out into the sun, she climbed back to her seat and tried again to start the dozer, but other than spitting and sputtering it would do nothing. She wanted to scream in frustration but literally didn't have the time. She continued to hit the switch, hoping just to get the machine running long enough to get it clear of the fire, but it wasn't going to happen. Finally, she sat back in defeat, not knowing what else to try. She hated to leave it behind. The plow had been important in her life before the Storm, and now it had possibly helped her save her home.

  She had made a difference using this machine. Not just here but in dozens of other places, carving out fire lines and extinguishing blazes all over the state and even in a few other states when loaned out to places with more fires than equipment and personnel. Operating this fire plow had made her matter in a way perhaps nothing else ever had.

  But in the end, it was just a machine, and it was dead. More importantly, it had served its purpose. She gathered her gear and slid to the ground, checking one last time to make sure she had everything. As she turned to leave she could see an ATV coming, Clay at the wheel.

  “What's the problem?” he asked.

  “Dead as a hammer,” she replied simply. “Went dead on me as I was plowing and now it won't start. I've checked everything I can out here like this and there's nothing wrong that I can fix outside the shop. She's done.”

  “Sorry Abby,” Clay sounded like he meant it and she nodded. He put the ATV in gear and started for home as fast as was safe to travel.

  “If it makes any difference Abby, you've probably saved us, assuming we are saved,” Clay said after a moment of silence. “You did good.”

  She sat for a moment, savoring the words before smiling, ever so slightly.

  “Thanks, Uncle Clay.”

  -

  “Okay, we need buckets, shovels, tow sacks, things like that,” Abigail instructed. “Rakes are good tools as well. The trick is to watch for the embers. They will be black or gray usually, but sometimes the gray is so light it looks white. It makes it harder to see, but if you watch you can see darker spots falling against the sky behind them. Most are dead. But mixed in with them, especially in this wind, will be larger pieces that will still have fire. Even the smallest ember can start a new blaze if it hits the right fuel.”

  “We can't afford to let a fire get started on this side of the creek, especially near the houses, so be on the lookout, okay? And if you get in trouble, call Home Plate,” she nodded to the twins and their assistants. “We 'll have a few people on standby at all times to bring water and help anywhere a blaze gets started. And if a fire does start, call it in first,” she stressed. “Don't start working on the blaze until you call for help and get a reply. If you try to fight the fire yourself first and fail, we've lost all that time that we could have been respondin
g. Any questions?”

  “How long will this last?” one of the Webb sons asked.

  “It will take longer for the fire to get here than it will to pass us by,” she replied. “It will seem like forever and then suddenly time will flash and the fire is behind you, or all around you. I estimate with this wind we 'll be seeing the blaze in a couple hours at most. Once it crosses the creek east and west of us, assuming it does, then it will move south with the wind, but it will also eat its way toward us simply because of the available fuel. Don't assume we're safe until the flames are safely by us and gone.” She paused and looked at the collection of tired men and women.

  “I know you're tired,” she said finally. “We all are. I know at least some of you are scared. I know how you feel. But we can beat this,” her voice firmed up. “I've done it dozens of times.”

  “Against a fire like this?” Josh Webb asked, more for the others benefit than his own.

  “Including the Smokies fire in 2016,” she nodded. Those not aware that she had been there suddenly sat up a little straighter.

  “None of you are trained wild land firefighters, yet you've done wonders in two days,” she told them, smiling ever so slightly. “The guys I worked with even in the Smokies couldn't have done better. Hang on a little longer and we can all rest tomorrow. Okay?”

  “All right,” Clay said into the silence. “Let's eat, rest a minute, and then grab our gear. Trucks will drop teams of three off at intervals down the creek, each with a radio. We 'll also have the tractors ready to plow around any fire that gets a foot hold. We can do this,” he told them, looking each of them in the eye as he scanned the group.

  “We have to.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  -

  The lunchtime drone flight revealed Abigail had known exactly what she was talking about. The thickening smoke over the ranch should have been enough, but the drone video made it clear; the fire had arrived.

  “Maybe three miles at most,” Abigail estimated.

  “About that, yeah,” Deuce nodded, doing some math in his head.

  “Three and two tenths miles, if my math is right,” Leanne supported after punching numbers on a tablet. “The rate of advance is too screwy to nail down. As soon as we get the problem worked it changes again.”

  “Doesn't matter anymore,” Abigail shook her head. “Before you can work it again it will be on top of us. Warn everyone to be ready. Our time is just about up.” She looked at Clay and Ronny.

  “If you guys can stand by with the tractors, I can take Uncle Ronny's dozer and start shoring up our flanks. West of here should be more or less okay, but our eastern border is weak. The creek is narrow enough to skip across in places and our break doesn't cover that. We need to make sure the fire can't turn on us once it crosses the creek. And it will cross the creek,” she warned.

  “You're sure?” Clay asked. Before she could answer the radio came to life.

  “This is, uh. . .second team,” Micah Webb called in. “We got a fire over here in open pasture. We can handle it, but we can see more embers dropping. Most of 'em are landing on the other side of the creek right now, or else in it.”

  “Team Two, Plate copies all,” Jonathon replied. “Help standing by if needed.”

  “Okay,” Webb's inexperience with a radio showed but he got his message across just fine.

  “I'm sure,” Abigail replied to Clay's question, though the answer was no longer in doubt.

  “Well, I'm going then,” Ronny said. “I 'll take the Ford, Clay. I already hooked the breaking plow behind it. That should do the trick.”

  “I 'll stick with the Massey then,” Clay nodded. “I've been using it and it did okay so far. No reason to change.”

  “Ask Grandpa to back you up with the Kubota,” Abigail suggested. “He can stand by in case there's a problem neither one of you can turn loose and take care of. Or else just stand by near the houses. There's no way I can get back here from the eastern edge of the ranch if you need me.”

  “We 'll take care of it. Zach!” Clay called.

  “Yo!”

  “Ride with Abby and provide cover,” Clay ordered.

  “Got it, Bossman,” was the simple reply. “Meet you there!” he told Abigail as he ran to grab his gear.

  “I appreciate it,” she said softly.

  “Be careful,” Clay didn't bother to continue that train of conversation. He paused only to show the twins where he would be staging and then was gone. Abigail waited no more than a few second before showing the twins where she would be as well, and then headed for her uncle's dozer.

  She had work to do just like everyone else.

  -

  “Maintain your watch and ignore what they are doing,” Jody Thompson instructed as he and Heath sat in the Tower overlooking the Sanders ranch. “Watch over them, but don't watch them. Do you understand the difference?”

  “I think so,” Heath nodded. “I watch the whole area around them, looking for problems or threats. I don't concentrate on what they're doing, just what's going on around them.”

  “Good,” Jody nodded. “Excellent. Maintain your watch, then. I will watch over the other side and the road. Just because we have an emergency does not mean that other threats will be on hold.”

  “Got it.”

  -

  “So, what are we doing exactly?” Zach asked as he sat on the fender next to Abigail.

  “I'm going to clear as wide a break as I can on this side of the ranch,” Abigail replied even as she lowered the blade and turned toward the creek. “Deprive the fire of any fuel once it crosses over. We want it to keep going south and not turn on us.”

  “Shame we can't put it out,” Zach noted.

  “We just don't have what it takes,” Abigail told him sadly. “I wish we could too. It will keep going until it hits a barrier it can't jump, it runs out of fuel, or else it rains on it. And destroy everything in its path until that happens.”

  “All we can do is all we can do,” Zach shrugged. “Fire in town burned like that for days,” he added after a minute, his voice distant.

  “I'm sorry, Zach,” she said softly.

  “It is what it is,” the teen shrugged. “I need to be watching while you operate this thing,” he said more to himself than to her, turning so he could see out instead of just looking forward.

  “Okay.”

  -

  Abigail had been right, Clay decided. It had seemed to take forever for the fire to move, but once it arrived, it was like a locomotive. He had seen fires before, including a horrible bush fire once in Africa, years before. But that fire had been distant. He hadn't known the people involved and hadn't seen the devastation close up. The fire had been so monstrous that he and his men had been able to see it for miles from a tall hill over their small collection of huts. They had watched it for days before a rain storm had retarded it and finally killed it.

  But this was far removed from watching a fire from a distance. The wind picked up as the flames became visible across the creek, a keening, wailing roar that sounded like a cross between a banshee and a lion that made the hair on his arm stand up and his scalp crawl. He gained another level of respect for his oldest niece as he imagined her contending with something like this on a regular basis, let alone fighting against it. He was sure this one occasion would last him a lifetime and more.

  He listened as the radio crackled with reports of hot embers falling around the ranch and starting small spot fires as Abigail had referred to them. Once Ronny had to go and plow around one such spot that was threatening to spread, already growing to a full acre before he could get there. His father had plowed a circle around another, smaller fire that had erupted east of their homes. As he scanned the area around him he heard another radio call that got his attention.

  “There's a hot spot behind the main barn!” a voice he didn't quite recognize reported. “We can't. . .the pump. . .reach it from. . .t is!” It was clear that whoever was speaking was also trying to fig
ht the fire at the same time.

  “I'm on my way,” Clay said at once, putting the idling tractor in gear and moving even as he spoke. It took two minutes for him to get there and that was two minutes too long. Fire was already licking at the barn's north side even as a half dozen men and women tried to batter it out with shovels, wet towels and even a garden sprayer. He immediately began to plow around the burn and the rest of the barn, assuming it would be lost. That would hurt. The main barn was a huge structure capable of serving many tasks at once. Rebuilding it would take time even assuming they could scrounge enough materials for it, and there was nothing else that could serve so many functions all at once.

  He was certain the barn was going to be lost when he heard the last thing he expected to hear; a siren.

  “What in the hell?”

  As he looked for the source, the reclaimed Dodge fire truck came around the far side of the barn and slid to a halt, Ellen Kargay at the wheel. He could see her wrestling with something inside even as Jake and Greg bailed out of the back seat and began pulling a hose from the bed of the utility box. Two of the Webb boys ran to help Greg pull the line toward the barn while Jake moved to the control panel and started pulling levers and twisting knobs. Seconds later, a wide spray of water erupted from the hose as Greg directed the water on the barn wood that had already caught up. Clay moved his tractor near the truck and climbed down long enough to talk to Jake.

  “When did you get this fixed?”

  “About forty-five minutes ago at best,” Jake replied, bags under his eyes telling where he had been awake all night working even after a long day the day before. “We were trying to put water in the tank when we heard this,” he pointed to the barn. “I hope we got enough. I doubt this tank has got more than fifty or so gallons of water in it.”