The Lumberjack

by Erik Martin Willén

  “But you don’t have one?”

  Silence.

  “Don’t you feel lonely when you work in the forest?”

  “No, and most times I have a partner.”

  Silence.

  “Dogs die.”

  There was something sad in his answer, and Christina decided to back off. This guy didn’t put on a show for her; he was sincere, and she respected that, and liked him more for being himself. They drove for a while in silence, and when they came to the first four-way intersection they had to slow down and pull to the side of the road. Two ambulances with sirens wailing and lights flashing came in from the right road but to both Christina’s and Robert’s surprise one went up on the road they had come down, while the other turned the direction they were heading.

  “That was odd,” Robert said. “Could have sworn Frank said that the accident was down by Deadman’s Curve.”

  “Maybe there’s been more than one accident, or something else happened?” Christina suggested.

  “Maybe, but those two ambulances are from the next county, and the way they came from is a very long detour.”

  He was about to speed up when two police cars came from the same direction the paramedics had—and also split up. “Something’s definitely up, that’s for sure,” Christina said.

  They drove in silence, no music or conversation, passing two more intersections. When they came to the last one, there were warning flares on the ground, and a police vehicle stopped in the road. A police woman wearing a ridiculously large yellow raincoat signaled them to stop. Robert lowered the driver’s side window, and the woman leaned forward.

  “Sorry, road closed, there’s been an accident. You have to turn around.”

  Robert pulled down his visor to reveal several thick rubber bands holding down a series of cards. He removed a plastic one with his picture on it, and handed it to the police woman, who eyed it suspiciously. “You don’t have a blue light?”

  “No, I still haven’t gotten one.”

  “But you do have a yellow light on the roof. May I suggest you use it? And what about her?”

  “My little personal assistant,” he said confidently, patting Christina on the top of her head…a very furious head indeed, with an open mouth and an I-can’t-believe-he-just-did-that expression.

  The policewoman handed back the card, and they drove on slowly, with the yellow-orange light on top of the truck flashing. Neither said a word, and Christina sat with her arms folded over her chest. She was not a happy camper; in fact, she was a bit concerned that this would turn into some big brother/friend fiasco rather than what she’d hoped for. Meanwhile, Robert focused on the crappy road ahead. It was no surprise that there had been an accident. Or accidents, since the emergency vehicles headed up the road were clearly rushing to the scene of another emergency.

  When they reached the accident, they were greeted by a scene straight out of a modern-day Hieronymus Bosch’s worst nightmare of Hell. Instantly, Christina regretted that she’d been so head-strong about tagging along. It was more than an accident: it looked like a war zone.

  The first thing they noticed was the fire truck lying on the treetops, balanced precariously over the cliff’s edge, supported by no more than a few broken branches. The twisted remains of a black Lincoln with its entire front end totaled was crammed against the high cliff on the opposite side of the road. A body was stuck halfway through the windshield, while firemen and paramedics trying to extricate him and treat his injuries. Thick black smoke swirled through the scene, occasionally reducing the visibility to zero.

  On top of all that, a police car lay in a ditch with tree branches thrust through the window, while an eighteen-wheeler had tipped over nearby, huge logs scattered all over the place. A group of firemen fought a fire in a civilian car, while a few tried to take care of the fuel spill on the road. The fire was spreading rapidly, and the rain from the storm didn’t seem to be helping much.

  Rescue vehicles were spread out across the area, taking up most of the space on the cramped road. There were two large fire-rescue trucks and one smaller truck on the scene, along with three ambulances; as they watched, one of them took off toward town with lights and sirens blaring. Rescue personnel moved careful around the debris, doing their jobs professionally; no one seemed to be panicking, though Christina was on the verge. Shouts and screams from at least two people could be heard over the howling wind.

  They parked behind a large green truck with electric signs on top, indicating that oncoming traffic should detour around the scene. Two men stood at the back, gathering equipment and struggling with some sort of short, thick ladder. The younger of the two, about the same age as Robert, glanced at Robert’s truck with a scowl. He was handsome in a way, but looked too dour for Christina’s taste.

  Christina noticed that Robert eyed the other man with equal dislike. When she turned her head, she could barely see what was going on below the bend in the road from where she sat, but she did see two police cars blocking it, and many civilian trucks and a few cars parked along the road, stretching back quite a ways. There seemed to be a problem with crowd control. Out of the blue, a photographer crossed the cordon and strode swiftly around the scene, taking pictures of the wreckage and carnage. The bloodier and more morbid the better, Christina thought with disgust. She’d had her share of paparazzi, and photographers like this one were worse. Like most famous people, she thought of them as stalkerazzi, or photo-terrorists, and in the past they’d made her life a living hell. Today, she would make sure she kept away from him and anyone else with a camera.

  A fireman took off after the photographer, and suddenly he got help from a huge police officer, who caught the bastard and forced him away under wild protest. Idiot’s probably screaming about his rights, Christina thought. She smiled when she saw how roughly the police treated the vulture. Served him right.

  Like a shadow, a big man moved through the smoke, and when he came closer Christina recognized the serious face of Frank. He wore the typical fireman’s helmet and an unbuttoned fireman’s jacket. On one of the patches on his chest were his name and the word Volunteer. He nodded to the two electricians and exchanged a few words with them, then pointed at one of the electrical poles on the side of the road. He walked over to Robert’s side of the truck and greeted them with a nod.

  “Robert, Christina.” He touched the tip of his helmet when greeting Christina, and if he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it.

  “What happened?” Robert asked.

  “Not sure, but we need you over there by Diego’s patrol car, and you need to bring your special kit and saw. Once you’re done there, you might want to get into your monkey straps and see what you can do about that mess with the fire engine hanging over the cliff there.” He motioned with his left thumb over his shoulder towards the truck, which was still stuck in the trees.

  “But that’s not the worst thing,” the old man sighed. “A school bus filled with boy scouts went over the cliff over there.” He pointed at a small opening between the large trees. There were a few broken branches visible, but it didn’t look like an entire bus had gone through there. The guard rail that was supposed to prevent vehicles from going over the cliff was just plain gone. In some places, there were a few pieces of the twisted metal and support posts still intact, leaning drunkenly.

  Christina remembered Frank warning her about this part of the road, and that the guard rail was poorly maintained because of the many accidents that occurred here. “Scouts on the road on a Saturday morning?” Christina asked.

  “They were supposed to camp all weekend, but they canceled after the storm last night, and decided to go home early this morning. Should have canceled yesterday, if you ask me.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Afraid so, Robert. The bus driver and one of the scout instructors, I think. Kids seem mostly all right. Anyway, get saddled up; right now the chief wants you to help Diego. He’s got a tree branch in his chest, and it’s bent so
mething awful and look like it’s under a lot of pressure.”

  “Shouldn’t we help the kids first?”

  “Chief had a few firemen and paramedics rappel down there to help the worse injured, but the problem is that the firetruck stuck in the trees there could fall at any time on the bus, which is pretty far below. Some parents are causing a problem, and the police have their hands tied. Diego won’t make it if we can’t rush him to the hospital ASAP.”

  An explosion erupted from one of the utility poles, and several downed wires spewed out wicked blue electrical arcs, whipping around mercilessly.

  “Crap, that’s my cue, gotta go, hurry up!”

  * * * * *

  ROBERT SLAMMED the door and rushed to the back of his truck to open the box contained his rescue gear. He removed his denim shirt and grabbed a rescue jacket, and suddenly he sensed someone standing next to him. He removed his leather cowboy hat and looked for a place to put it; It landed on Christina’s head, sideways. He smirked when he saw her surprised expression. The hat was too big for her, and if it hadn’t been for her hair bun, it would have covered her head and face completely. “Sure are nosy, aren’t ya?” he grumbled.

  Robert kicked off his cowboy boots, and pulled down his pants—no shyness whatsoever. He wore boxers. Yeah, there’ll be no big brother/friend BS here, and that’s that, she decided as he put on some awful-looking thick black pants with sawdust on them, followed by equally ugly safety workboots the color of fresh rust. They looked heavy. With only a tight white T-shirt over his muscular torso, he put on the jacket.

  The wind picked up, and with it the rain intensified. “Won’t you catch a cold wearing only that?” Christina wondered. Robert just smiled, and unexpectedly wrapped his denim shirt around her like a real gentleman. It was far too large for her, but felt oddly comfortable. She leaned her head over and smelled the collar, scenting a musty, sweaty and yet clean odor that she liked very much.

  “Try not to get it dirty,” Robert told her.

  So much for being a gentleman, she thought.

  He put on a bright yellow warning vest with reflectors on it, and tossed one to Christina too. “Wear this just in case someone asks about you. Tell them you’re with me.” He then grabbed a typical orange lumberjack’s hard hat with black ear protection attached and a black grill to protect his face. He closed the hatch to that compartment, then opened another, bigger one at the back of the truck.

  He took out a Husqvarna fuel can. It looked practical and very robust, with accessories for both fuel and lubricants. Many different tools were attached on both sides by the handle. There were several chain-saws stacked neatly in the new compartment; some were small, while others were much bigger. He grabbed two of them, and a bag with more tools. He also took out a huge, circular backpack—it looked extremely heavy - and tossed the tool bag on top. Robert then placed the fuel can around his neck with the help of a leather strap attached to the handle. He kneeled and took a chain-saw in each hand, then got up and got moving. He’d only walked a few yards before he stopped and turned around, the muscles in his arms tensed. “Stay here with the truck. Please.”

  Christina nodded and said, “Be careful, please.”

  He gave her a puzzled look, then he entered the melee.

  As Christina waited in the truck, each minute felt like an hour. When she finally looked at the clock on the dashboard, she rolled her eyes; Robert had only been gone for twenty minutes. She was frustrated at not being able to help; she hated feeling useless, but knew she would only be in the way. She was tired of sitting, though, and needed to stretch her legs.

  Out of nowhere, Robert showed up with the fuel can. She got out and met up with him on her side of the truck. He opened a compartment with a warning label and a painted flame on it; and inside stood two large plastic containers, one red and the other blue. He used attachments to refill his fuel and lubricant. “How goes it?” she asked.

  “It’s pretty bad,” he said in a somewhat discouraged tone. “That’s what happens when someone drives like an idiot, I guess.”

  “The cop, were you able to save him?”

  “Diego. I got him loose from a branch that had penetrated his abdomen and nailed him to the seat, if that’s you mean. It’s up to the doctors now.”

  He stopped in his tracks, and suddenly he looked Christina over from head to toe, very intently. Christina didn’t know what to think.

  “How much do you wei…nah, never mind.” He grabbed her arms in a firm grip, forced them along her body, and then lifted her a foot off the ground with no effort, like she weighed nothing. He put her back down, and stood there thinking for a moment before he decided, “No, too dangerous, and the chief probably won’t let me do it.”

  “Do what exactly?” she demanded.

  “We need someone light to attach a pulley far up in a tree and thread a line through it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you have any experience climbing trees, wearing a harness, and rappelling of any sort—and can you tie a real knot?”

  Christina gave him a shy smile. “I have some training in rock climbing, so yes, I’m familiar with climbing and rappelling. I’m also experienced with harnesses and hanging strung up in all kind of weird positions, sometimes for hours. So yeah, I’ve been tied up many times, and I’m very familiar with knots.”

  She wasn’t thinking about what it sounded like until Robert gave her a puzzled look. She started to stutter—something she did whenever nervous—and tried to say something about a green screen, which made no sense to Robert.

  “What are you? A dominatrix?”

  There was an awkward silence between them, before she blurted, “Not so much, but if that’s what it takes,” and then clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized she had said it out loud.

  Christina noticed his hesitation. She saw a harness on the truck bed. She grabbed it and put it on, demonstrating that she knew what she was doing, but suddenly she removed it. She then, to his surprise, grabbed some rope and measured it up about eight feet. “Got a medium or large snap link?”

  He nodded to a compartment, and Christina picked out one medium link. Then she tied a reserve harness around her legs and waist, attached the snap link, squatted down, and secured the line while it was flexed—something most military people knew about, but most civilians didn’t.

  Maybe she’s been in the military, Robert thought.

  She adjusted the harness and its shoulder strap, climbed in the openings, and fasten it like a seatbelt. It had a more modern snap link already attached.

  Robert nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, then. But if the chief says no, then don’t argue. Just come back here, all right?”

  She looked up into his face and gave him a sloppy salute.

  “You’ll need a helmet too.”

  He looked around and handed her what looked like a black baseball batting helmet, similar to the ones the SWAT team used. He changed the inside to small, removed his cowboy hat from her head, and replaced it with the black safety helmet. He pulled the chin strap tight. Never once did he look into her eyes.

  He explained what she had to do; the firetruck that lay on top of the trees over the cliff edge remained where it was because of one gigantic tree. “I’ve tried several different ways of getting a line around it, as far up as possible, but failed. The only way is either to climb up from below or get on the tree from above with the help of a crane, but you have to get into the tree and climb down right there,” he said, pointing at a location high on the tree. “We need a smaller person who can climb from the top and about a quarter of the way down. There are too many branches, and most are too small to climb from the ground.”

  Christina listened, focused, and nodded as she looked at the giant tree. The tree leaned over the cliff edge at about a 45-degree angle.

  When they reached the group of men around the tree, there was more than one suspicious glance aimed at Christina. What are they feeding these people when they’re kids? All th
e men are giants, Christina thought.

  “Who’s the kid?” the fire rescue chief, Nolan, demanded, staring at Christina, who tried to take cover behind Robert.

  “I say we wait for Adrianna,” Bard insisted, after looking Christina over.

  “What if there’s an accident, and the tree shifts or the cliff gives way?” someone asked.

  “Emergency action supersedes that,” Frank intervened. “Besides, we’ll soon have a thunderstorm right above us, and we have to do something now.”

  Nolan looked at Christina. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  Christina gave him The Stare. He had seen it before, so Nolan shook his head and motioned “Okay” with his shoulders. Frank stepped up to Christina. “Sure you know what you’re doing? I don’t like this.”

  “I know what I’m doing, and I really want to help.”

  Frank winked eye at her, smiling.

  Robert escorted Christina to a large firetruck he called the Tower; it included a crane with several ladders and a basket. Inside the basket waited a fireman. The crane shook violently as they took off, then ascended smoothly towards heaven. The fireman was nice and calm, and handled the controls on the dashboard with obvious experience. They went quite high, and Christina could see the accident entire spread out far below them.

  “We have to hurry,” the fireman shouted over the sound of the storm. “It’s only a matter of time before the storm’s on top of us. Once we’re up, you have to rappel down and get through the branches to attach the line and pulley to the trunk. When you’re done, just kick off at the trunk, and hang on. I’ll lower you to safety.”

  It all sounded easy, but it wasn’t.

  Once they reached the desired elevation, the fireman opened a gate. He doubled-checked the lines on Christina’s harness and the spare safety line attached to the harness she had roped herself. He looked up, impressed, and smiled at her. He noticed that they had forgotten to give her gloves, so he handed Christina his own. He had to shout over the raging storm, “You’re good to go. Remember, there are no safety lines that can break your fall from below.”