Smokescreen

by Nancy Hartry

  “May I see your license, if you don’t mind?” Yvette said to the pilot. He reached into the cockpit and handed his pilot’s license to her.

  Kerry read over Yvette’s shoulder. “I’m trying to figure out your age,” said Yvette. “You’re twenty-nine?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I smell your breath?”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave her a deep back-of-the-throat huff.

  “You smell like Colgate.”

  “I don’t drink on the job, if that’s what you’re looking for. In fact, I don’t drink at all.”

  Yvette was chewing hard on her lip, as if she might bite right through it. “Do you have a maintenance log?”

  The pilot fished out a book from the back of his seat. “Had her in last week. She purrs like a cougar.”

  Yvette closed the log. “Okay,” she sighed. “I’m in.”

  Kerry high-fived Yvette as she buckled her into the plane. “Hey, you forgot something, doofus—like your gear!” She hurried back to retrieve Yvette’s pack from the truck, before Yvette could change her mind.

  Harcourt oozed in beside the pilot, while Yvette sat behind Matthew and Kerry behind Harcourt. “If you need me during the flight, Yvette, kick my chair,” said Matthew. “And call me Matt.”

  Kerry watched Yvette sit back in her seat, arms rigid. She leaned over and patted her forearm, saying, “It’s going to be okay.” She knew she didn’t sound convincing.

  “Keep your hard hat on your lap. It makes a decent barf bag. I mean, after that party last night, anything can happen,” Yvette said.

  “Like you had to remind me.” Kerry winced, feeling as though she could barf—from nerves, not alcohol. While she was relieved that Yvette seemed better, she worried that the pontoons of this overloaded plane were digging their heels into the water.

  Before takeoff, Matthew checked the girls’ seatbelts. He had low words of encouragement for Yvette as the motor warmed up, before the plane taxied from the dock. The smell of fuel, heavy and sweet, caught Kerry’s nose as the plane plowed the water at a steady speed. This felt like the beginning of a dance competition, before the music started. Her body was tingling with anticipation, her mind clear, her stomach doing flip-flops, when, about two hundred yards from shore, the plane stopped and turned into the wind. She held her breath as the engine accelerated and whined more and more loudly, the plane going faster and faster. You can do this, honey, she heard her father say. While her mother bossed and nagged her, her father had faith in her. You can do this. She willed the plane to lift off the water and begin to climb. When it was finally high in the air, she wanted to clap with the joy of it. This must be how a mother robin felt when a baby bird, flopping and floundering on the ground, finally put it all together. Exhilarating!

  Kerry looked down to see diamonds flashing on the water and tin roofs winking in the sun. As they climbed higher, the landscape resolved into a relief map, and she followed roads and watercourses from source to outlet, hundreds of lakes and rivers shimmering like mica. The green was intense against the blue but soft at the same time. She sensed that if she jumped out, she’d flutter through the air like a poplar leaf, twisting and turning and landing lightly in the arms of a giant pine.

  The plane banked and straightened out, and she could see the black stripe of the highway below them. She lost track of time, mesmerized by the landscape below. Was that an old iron mine? There was a gravel pit, big enough to hold a fleet of trucks. A dump with the garbage neatly sorted. There was— The plane bounced and swayed while her stomach played catch-up. They dropped through the air and her hard hat rolled off her lap. Chalky white smoke swirled around the plane. A trickle of sweat ran down the inside of her arm.

  Matt was flying blind.

  Kerry looked at Yvette. She was whimpering, with her eyes shut tight. Kerry reached over and touched her hand but Yvette paid no attention, continuing to white-knuckle the armrests.

  The plane shuddered and rattled until Kerry thought her head would blow off. She hugged her legs to her chest, as tightly as she could and still keep her seatbelt on. She held her breath and felt sweat rolling down her face. Finally the plane breasted the smoke and steadied. Brilliant blue sky stung her eyes as Matthew skirted the edge of the fire on the windward side.

  Where to look! It wasn’t one continuous wall of fire, like Kerry had imagined. Her eyes popped from one patch of flames to another, as far as the horizon. Full-grown trees exploded into fire, bursts of flame rose two and a half times the height of the trees. Black smoke swirled and eddied, then turned muddy brown. Flames—yellow, orange, red—blotted out the forest floor as the fire raced up one tree after another, then leaped, tree to tree, across the forest canopy. Kerry imagined the underside of the plane below her blistering in the savage heat.

  She spotted a tiny orange helicopter lower down, with a bucket the size of a thimble swaying under it, dropping a spray of water that vaporized before it even hit the trees. The scale of that little machine, against a vast bank of oily black clouds, made the exercise of firefighting seem hopeless. The fire was like a pack of wild beasts surging here and there across the landscape, racing, pausing, shape-shifting, as it searched for more oxygen to gobble up. Her heart pounded as she scanned the ground to see if she could spot the firefighters. Was Aubrey down there?

  As the plane dropped lower and lower, looping in circles, Kerry spied a scraggle of canvas tents on the verge of a lake. Matthew did a couple of practice flybys to inspect the lake and she could see the shift from light to dark where the water got deeper. She sensed that he was ready to land when he came in low over the treetops, and squeezed her eyes tight. The plane dropped hard and fast. The sky is falling. The sky is falling.

  The pontoons touched the water, skimming its surface, and the tail bobbed up as it taxied to a raft anchored just off the campsite. Harcourt, his bald head glistening with sweat, flung open the door and gulped in big breaths. Matthew yelled at him for opening it too soon, and Kerry thought he deserved being told off after the grief he’d given them.

  “A piece of pie.” There was a quaver in Yvette’s voice, and her hands were shaking so badly that she had to tuck them under her thighs. Cake—but Kerry let it go.

  “Yvette, look out the window,” she cried. “It must be a sign we’ll be okay.” The girls unbuckled their seatbelts and scrambled for the door as Didier rowed to meet them.

  “That’s our boat!” Yvette said. “That piece of junk is following us everywhere.”

  “Watch it, girls,” said Didier. “This thing handles like a pig.” Kerry and Yvette smirked, remembering their conversation with their boss. “I’ll take you girls first and come back for another load.”

  “No, you won’t,” announced Harcourt. “I’m supervising and I’m going first.”

  Yvette licked her finger and tested the wind direction as a froth of foam collected along the shoreline. Kerry noticed that Matthew looked worried and wasn’t moving to help them unload. “I think we should get back in this plane and get out of here,” said Yvette. “The wind has drifted.”

  Harcourt tipped the brim of his hard hat off his face, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at her. “What the hell do you know from nothin’, huh?”

  “She’s right. The wind has changed.” Matthew jumped back into the pilot’s seat and picked up a squawking radio. Kerry couldn’t hear the words, but he seemed to be arguing with the person on the other end, and then with someone more senior. When he came out on the pontoon again, he removed his sunglasses and looked at each girl closely. “I have orders to leave you here in the capable hands of Mr. Harcourt. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  “Are you saying you hope we’ll be fine, Matt, or you’re certain we’ll be fine?” Yvette asked.

  Kerry twisted her bandanna into a rope. “I’m not comfortable knowing the fire’s so close.”

  “Well, you don’t have a choice, so quit bellyaching,” Harcourt snapped. “The road should be
cleared pretty soon, so we can get out that way if we have to. Now move.”

  They set up a human chain and unloaded the plane onto the raft. Didier shifted the weight in the boat to make sure it was balanced, directed everyone to their seats, then pulled away as another boat came in for the rest of the cargo. The girls waved as Matthew took off and buzzed low before heading over the ridge.

  Harcourt was first out of the boat and he was as rude as usual. “I don’t want you girls getting in the way.”

  “Then why did he bring us?” Yvette whispered to Kerry.

  “When you get that stuff unloaded, you’d better start on dinner. You can count on fifty guys, maybe sixty. And it better be good.”

  Didier grinned. “No pressure though, girls. I’ll help you set up. Apparently I’ve been promoted to fire admin.”

  It took about an hour to lug the pots and pans, cooking utensils, and cases of canned goods up to the cook tent. “Sick,” said Kerry, as she inspected the dirty white canvas thrown over newly cut sapling poles. “I can stand up in here. How come the canvas floor piece goes up the wall like that?”

  “So we don’t get our sleeping bags wet when it pours rain,” Yvette said.

  “This tent is just for cooking, right? We’re not sleeping here?” said Kerry. “With the smell of food? I read on the Internet that it’s not safe because it attracts bears.”

  Yvette laughed. “I don’t think a bear is going to bother with us when it has a fire to run away from. Sixty people are going to be living in this camp, and men will be coming and going all night long. Bears are not stupid. Besides, you really don’t get a vote.”

  Didier shouldered his way through the door of the tent and dropped his final load, two new Coleman stoves. “What’s for supper?”

  Without even checking, Yvette said, “Beans.”

  “Homemade, just like my mom makes?”

  “Get real.” Yvette turned to Kerry. “They always send beans, canned tomatoes, and Spam. You can count on it. Oh yeah, there’ll be fruit salad so these guys don’t get scurvy. Didier, we need some tables set up.”

  “And how are those bathrooms coming along? We can’t just unzip it like you guys.” Kerry laughed nervously. She had been wondering about bathrooms since those scary moments on the plane.

  “Whoa,” said Didier. “Be careful about—you know, talking like that—around here. You may get more than you bargained for. These are tough guys. They take their fun where they find it.”

  Yvette nodded. “You think that fire over the ridge is dangerous? It’s nothing compared to the danger to us girls in this camp. I’ve lived in construction camps all my life, at least until they sent me to boarding school. This is new to you, I know, but there’s a code of behavior. The minute the men think you’re loose, you’ve had it. As far as they’re concerned, you’re asking for it and you’ll get what you deserve. Act like a nun and you won’t borrow trouble. I can joke around a bit more because I’m older and I know how to talk to them, but you and I have to go everywhere together, stuck like Krazy Glue.”

  Kerry covered her ears. “You’re freaking me out!”

  “There’s nothing to worry about if you watch how you act. Stick with me.”

  Together, the girls sat cross-legged on the floor and assembled the stoves. They carried them outside to fill up the tanks, and Kerry held the funnel while Yvette poured in the naphtha fuel. Then Yvette demonstrated how to pump the gas and light the burner, while Kerry copied her actions on her own stove each step of the way. “This is fun,” Kerry said, when they’d finished.

  “Fun? We can talk about that later, when you have a headache from breathing too many gas fumes. I hope we don’t have to cook on the ground; my back won’t take it. Turn your stove off now that we know it works.” Yvette rummaged for stainless steel pots and big stir spoons. When she discovered a package of paper plates and plastic forks, she hugged them to her chest. “This will make our life so much easier.”

  Kerry hesitated before asking, “Is it really that dangerous? I mean, I know the fire is, but most of the men seem pretty nice.”

  “Just remember what I said. And don’t think about things you can’t change. We’ll make the best of it, okay?”

  “I guess.” Kerry turned away and rummaged through a box where she found a cutting board and some carving knives. Yvette pulled out a tray of bread followed by several pounds of butter and cartons of milk. With each discovery, Yvette revised and expanded the menu, until it was settled that they would serve the meat buffet style and let the men make their own sandwiches.

  By four o’clock, they were chopping a five-pound bag of onions and crying. “So, what do you think of Matt?” Yvette asked, tears streaming down her face.

  “The pilot? I liked him.” Kerry wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Me too. He has nice brown eyes.”

  “Yvette! He’s way too old for you.”

  “He’s under thirty.”

  “He won’t look at you twice.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You’re crazy.… Okay, why aren’t we just heating up the beans and dishing them out? Why are we adding all this stuff?”

  “Because we only have one time to make a good impression.”

  “What if they hate this goop?”

  “Come on, they’re starving. As long as we don’t burn it, it will taste gourmet. It’s my papa’s recipe, and we never had a complaint.”

  Yvette heated oil in the bottom of the pots, throwing four handfuls of onion into each and sautéing them till they were golden brown. She dumped in one drained can of tomatoes for each five cans of baked beans, and added two tablespoons of mustard and a half-bottle of Worcestershire sauce to the mixture. Meanwhile, Kerry was dicing Spam into cubes the size of the tip of her baby finger.

  “See, it’s a complete meal, un pot-au-feu. They’ll be happy with this and buttered bread and sandwiches.” Still, she fretted as mealtime approached. “Stir, stir. If there’s one burned bit, the whole thing will be ruined.”

  “Stop it; they’ll love it. I do, and I don’t even like beans.”

  The men were arriving, their faces blackened with smoke. Some had tried to clean themselves up but they’d managed only to smear the black and gray around. They looked so tired that Kerry was sure they’d fall over if they weren’t so tightly wedged one behind the other. She scanned the line for Aubrey while trying not to be obvious about it. Was he as cute as she remembered? She and Yvette moved forward to help spoon out the meal.

  “You cookies have quite a little setup here,” said Harcourt. He leaned on the table, checking it for sturdiness. “Hey, Didier, you did a pretty good job, considering.”

  Yes, Didier’s our knight in shining armor, Kerry thought. As she leaned forward to serve the men in line, the smoke smell from their clothes caught in her throat and she coughed.

  “Where’s the ketchup?” Harcourt said. He balanced drinks and a bowl of fruit salad and headed to the radio tent. Meanwhile, Didier was buzzing about with a garbage bag, collecting used paper plates. A line formed for tea and dessert.

  Kerry spotted Aubrey. He looked gorgeous in his orange jumpsuit, even with soot and dirt smeared all over. He looked more bright-eyed and alert than the others, who seemed exhausted. Will he remember me? I’m a mess. She removed the elastic from her hair, shook it out and made a higher ponytail, and then got busy opening mustard and mayo jars. She pretended not to see him, in case he wanted to avoid her, and poof, there he was in front of her.

  “Hi,” said Kerry.

  “Hi yourself.”

  That’s it? Either he hates me or he doesn’t remember me. “Uh, thanks for the other night. I don’t think I thanked you properly.”

  “No problem.” He shuffled down the line, his long, straight ponytail swishing between his shoulder blades. He turned around and looked directly at her. “Did you make the drinks?”

  Omigod, here it comes. She clasped her sweaty hands and nodded.

 
“They’re good, but not as good as your dancing.”

  He remembered. Kerry’s knees felt shaky. Why do I feel so funny?

  “Hey, Skinny Minnie, no chocolate chip cookies?” Didier teased.

  “Kerry’s baking those tomorrow,” said Aubrey.

  “I am?”

  The Lakehead guys laughed. “She’s so gullible.” Kerry felt her cheeks flaming. Aubrey noticed and offered to help her clean up.

  “Pretty much done, thanks. These paper products aren’t eco-friendly but they work.”

  “We generate too much garbage, a temptation for bear.”

  “But not here, right?”

  Aubrey covered her hand with his and squeezed it. “Don’t worry about bear when I’m around. Besides, the department is strict about taking all garbage to the dump.”

  He has a dimple in his right cheek when he smiles that kind of goes with his cleft chin. Why are they laughing at me?

  All laughing ceased when Harcourt returned and began cracking his knuckles to get their attention. “The fire boss wants you to know that you’re doing a terrific job under the circumstances, which I guess includes you two girls. The damn wind keeps shifting around but we’re watching it. The fire is up to three hundred acres already and extra units are on the way from all over the Northwest. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we’ve found evidence that the fire was started on the island in Trout Lake. It must have been a real hot one to jump over the water.” He held up a baggie containing a bright pink Bic lighter and passed it around the circle.

  Yvette’s cheeks were as bright as the lighter’s plastic shell. She passed the bag to Kerry like a hot potato. When Harcourt had it back in his possession, he added, “We’re sending it for testing at the forensic lab in Thunder Bay. If we catch the bastard who set this fire, he’s going to pay for life.”

  Aubrey was watching Yvette closely, and he raised an eyebrow in Kerry’s direction. She looked away quickly.

  “Oh my God,” she said later, when she and Yvette were alone in the tent putting pots and pans away. “It looks like yours.”