by Nancy Hartry
Once safely on shore, Kerry looked back over the lake. A little puff of cloud hung over “Bear Island” in an otherwise clear blue sky. By the time they unloaded the boat, the cloud was gone and the island had melded into the trees. It was as if they’d never been there at all.
CHAPTER 8
A round nine o’clock next morning, Harcourt blustered into the cook tent. “Girls, we’re moving out. Pack up all this stuff, pronto.”
“Nobody told us,” Yvette said.
He glared. “Didier got the call on the radio and it’s on a need-to-know basis. Now you know. We’re pulling out in half an hour. I’ll send somebody to help you. Wouldn’t want you to get a hernia.”
“What’s happening?” Kerry asked.
“A fireball is heading this way. Now move it!”
Kerry quelled the panic in her chest. “What’s a fireball?” she asked, as Yvette raced around the tent, packing up everything.
“I’ve never seen one but I’ve heard stories. It’s like a round, gassy ball of fire rolling through the tops of trees, going about thirty-five miles per hour.”
“How far are we from the fire?”
“Oh, quite far.” She sounded as if she might be lying.
“How far?”
“As the crow flies, about five miles. But … ah, there’s a big lake between us and the fire.”
Together they lifted cases of food and kitchen equipment to the overhang at the entrance. “Should we start taking this stuff down the hill?” Kerry asked.
“No, there’s a chance the wind will change and they’ll call it off. Somebody will be sent to get it.”
They plunked down and watched the men run from one task to the next, piling gear in a staging area and rolling hoses. The scene looked like an anthill stirred with a stick.
“I feel useless,” said Kerry. “I think we should help.”
“Old Buzzy doesn’t want us getting in the way. We have to be ready to be on the first truck out. Maudite marde, will you look at that!”
There was only one road out. Now it was blocked by a truck stuck broadside and buried up to its axles in sand. The driver gunned the motor and the wheels spun deeper. Harcourt flailed his arms like windmills, giving orders, doing nothing to keep the panic out of his voice, while the men watched, shifting from one foot to the other with anxiety.
“Dig. Dig! Hey!” Someone had hit Harcourt in the chest with a shovelful of gravel as he placed boards behind the back wheels to make a ramp.
“Now look who’s in the way,” said Yvette. “As if that’s going to work.”
The driver gunned the motor again and a sound like a gunshot rang through the camp as one board split, then another. “Damn,” said Kerry. “He’s made it worse.”
The truck was hemmed in at either end by trees, and there was no way to attach a winch to pull it out. Could she smell the metallic odor of fear coming from the men’s bodies, or was she imagining it? And where was Aubrey, and the other firefighters? Had they gotten out before the truck got stuck? Or were they working in the path of the fire?
“Imbeciles!” Yvette started walking down the hill. “Come on, you’re with me, remember?” She strode toward the truck and spoke quietly with the driver, who was hanging out the window of the cab. Then she and Kerry stood well back. At the driver’s direction, a kind of bucket brigade formed to the beach, only instead of water the men passed smooth, flat stones. The driver placed the stones like pavement under the tires. Kerry held her breath as the tires started to spin and an acrid smell of burning rubber filled the clearing. The truck swayed and lurched, then shot out of the hole. Cars, vans, and off-road vehicles flowed out the opening like water through a burst dam. The driver made a big show of doffing his cap to Yvette.
“Now Buzz is going to hate you for sure,” said Kerry.
“He’ll get over it. Let’s ask our new best friend if we can hitch a ride.” The driver warned the girls to be ready to pull out immediately. Men threw stuff in the truck higgledy-piggledy until he blasted his horn three times, signaling them to get aboard. Kerry and Yvette were first, and five guys tumbled in behind as the truck started rolling.
“Where are they taking us?” Yvette asked breathlessly.
“I’m sure they don’t even know yet. Just away from here,” said one of the guys.
Abandoned tents flapped like flags in the wind. Yvette nudged Kerry, pointing out their steel boat bucking at its anchor. Kerry gripped her arm as flames breasted the ridge. “Oh my God! What if the truck gets stuck again?”
“It won’t.”
“Yvette, where’s Didier?” Kerry looked around at the men. “Did any of you guys see Didier?” They shrugged.
“Stop! Stop!” Yvette screamed. Kerry and the guys joined her. The driver stood on his brakes as Kerry flipped off the back and sprinted to Didier’s tent, where the radio was still squawking.
“They nearly left you, come on!” She grabbed one piece of radio equipment, Didier another. With earphones and wires dangling, the two of them chased the truck as it slowly moved away from the camp.
“Sorry. Sorry,” panted Didier. “I needed to make one more call.”
A line of flame shot over the ridge and rolled toward the far shore. The power of the fire was spellbinding and terrifying at the same time.
“Such a waste,” Didier said. “That fireball will suck out all the oxygen around the lake, suffocating everything in its path. And all because of careless campers. They’d better hope they don’t get caught.”
“Yeah,” said one of the men, “the death penalty would be too good for them.”
“That’s for sure,” said Didier.
Kerry gave Yvette a dirty look for lying to her about the fire danger. She watched as Yvette popped another piece of nicotine gum in her mouth and chomped so hard that she bit her tongue. Kerry passed her a tissue. “Serves you right for not telling me the truth. Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t. Cross my heart … and hope to die.”
Kerry winced. Dying was not something she wanted to think about right now.
PART 3
Base Camp Number Two
June 30–July 10
CHAPTER 9
“W elcome to Base Camp Two. Let’s hope to hell we stay longer than at the first one!” the driver shouted. The men laughed and a few teased back.
Base Camp Two was a jumble of abandoned buildings with broken windows and sagging doors. Stiff from bouncing around in the back of the cab for the last two hours, Kerry could barely get out of the truck and staggered when her feet hit the ground. She faked great interest in the nearest cabin so no one would see the relief in her eyes.
Despite the neglect, this camp had an air of solidity about it. The guys were excited, pointing out features like a concrete garage that would make a fine heliport or a truck maintenance depot. Once screening was stapled over the windows, the mess hall would be bugfree. The camp was perched on a puddle of a pond but there was no well in sight. Kerry, who no longer trusted her first impressions, asked Yvette what she thought of the place.
“I like that they could pitch hundreds of tents if they need to.”
“Hundreds? Oh my God, do you think the fire is going to get that big? Don’t lie to me this time.”
Yvette ran a hand through her hair. “Nobody knows. It depends on the weather. But don’t worry, these guys know how to fight a fire. What freaks me out is that someone is trying to blame me for starting it. I didn’t do anything. This is a nightmare.”
Didier raced over to them. “I’m supposed to tell you that Buzz noticed that you helped get the truck out, which is all the thanks you’re going to get out of him. He says your first priority is to get the radio set up in the mess hall. There’s a storage room at one end that will make a perfect bedroom for you. Food’s on the way. We’re having steak tonight.”
“That should be easy. It’s a good thing my mother the bleachaholic can’t see how filthy this place is,” Kerry said, as she lugged the rad
io equipment into the building. “Didier, we need major supplies to clean up this kitchen.” But Didier took off without another word. “So much for that. Is he crazy or what? He could have fried out there if I hadn’t run back for him and he doesn’t care.”
“Those firefighters, they have blood like ice. Not me. Oh, Kerry, what about my lighter …?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. But maybe you’re right. Maybe somebody is trying to make it look like you’re guilty.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Well, you can’t leave. Either you’d run smack into the fire, or you’d be arrested for not showing up for fire duty. I think you just have to keep quiet and see what you can learn. I mean what we can learn.”
“Did you hear what that guy said about the death penalty? And Didier agreed.”
“I’m rethinking Didier. He’s not helping out, not getting us anything. And he owes us big-time,” said Kerry.
“Owes you! You’re the one who checked the radio tent.”
“And you’re the one who made the driver stop.” Kerry linked her arm through Yvette’s and they stamped up the wooden steps to the mess hall in their work boots. “Such a team!”
At four-thirty the next morning, a real-life professional cook stood in the center of the kitchen, appraising the deficiencies of the setup. Kerry and Yvette straightened to attention, which was hard to do without keeling over from exhaustion. So many more men had arrived last night from all over the province to eat rare steak, and the dishes never seemed to end. Kerry waited for the order for her to step forward and introduce herself but it didn’t come.
Didier whispered in her ear, “Rolf’s the top camp chef in the province, and they save him for the biggest fires. He has a reputation for being very tough but he cooks like a dream.”
Rolf was an older guy, long and lean. His arms were gangly but made of steel, if the knots of muscles were any indication. He wore a crisp white crewneck sweater and a stretchy black pair of pants belted at the waist. On his feet were white steel-toed running shoes.
“The equipment is completely inadequate for the size of this fire. I’ll need two full-size propane stoves with griddles by tomorrow morning.” Rolf waited until Didier left the room before addressing Kerry and Yvette. “At ease, ladies. I can see this has been a struggle for you but at least you didn’t poison anybody. Very sensible to be dosing the wash water with bleach.” He rubbed his bald head as if he were drying it with a towel. “Holy asskissing monkeys, this kitchen needs an overhaul.”
Kerry and Yvette sneaked a glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Was this guy for real? “We’re very glad you’re here, Rolf,” Yvette said. “We tried our best but I was faking it. I’m no cook.” She sat down hard on a kitchen stool.
Kerry hadn’t realized how tense she’d been, and what a relief it would be to pass the responsibility over to Rolf. She was tired of planning meals with Yvette and trying to make something out of nothing. Yvette grinned at her, and Kerry wiped imaginary sweat off her brow and pumped the air.
The change of pace was breathtaking. Harcourt was in and out of the kitchen all day, taking away Rolf’s lists and reporting back when he’d finished with them, only to get more requests. Kerry almost felt sorry for him.
Rolf handed Kerry a shopping list. “I want you to check this to see if I’ve forgotten anything. You know what’s on hand better than I do. This is the meal plan for the next four days.”
They were going to have meat three times a day, including roasts of beef and pork, whole chickens, and ham. And Kerry could only dream about what Rolf might do with coconut cream. She’d forgotten what real food tasted like.
“You’re going to need a refrigerator for all this stuff,” she said.
“I’ve requisitioned a refrigerated trailer and a generator, to keep the food cold but not frozen.”
Meal preparation seemed almost incidental when Rolf carried the load. After their first dinner, several of the men came up to him and thanked him for such wonderful chili, with so many kinds of beans in the pot, and cheese toasts on the side. Had he added red wine to the sauce? And where’d he get the fixings for a salad? Kerry was so busy scrubbing and stacking shelves that she didn’t think about the fire once.
After another supper—Mediterranean chicken and couscous—Aubrey, looking every bit the professional crew boss, approached Rolf in the kitchen. Aubrey looks so good, thought Kerry. I didn’t realize he was that tall. The men shook hands for longer than necessary, and she got the impression that they might have hugged if they’d met in a less public place. Aubrey acknowledged Kerry and Yvette with a nod. Kerry turned back to the sink, trying to wash silverware with minimal clinking in order to eavesdrop. Her hands were shaking. This is stupid, I’m going to cut myself.
“Rolf, I know you’re not fire management but you’re connected. You could find out what’s going on,” Aubrey said. Rolf remained silent, listening. “The elders on the reserve have asked for my help. They are very concerned about the bear. They’ve gone crazy.”
“I’d go crazy too, given the size of this fire.”
“No, it’s more than the fire. There’ve been a couple of random bear attacks about twenty-five miles from here, while band members were out fishing, and orphan cubs are wandering the bush, hungry and crying for their mothers. They’ve never seen it like this. It’s bizarre.”
Rolf was thoughtful. “Is it possible that some disease is affecting the adult bear?”
“We’ve found no sign of that, and no carcasses. It’s as if the adults have up and vanished.” Both men stood quietly, considering the problem.
“Aubrey, you can count on me to run a secure camp. I’ve already requested proper garbage bins with bear-proof locks. I could speak to the fire boss if you like, but right now I think a few bears are the least of his concerns. If I get an opportunity, do you want me to say something so the boss can reassure the band?”
“The band council on the reserve doesn’t trust the authorities, so there’s no point. But if you hear something useful, I’d appreciate it if you’d pass it on to me.”
“With pleasure.”
In the reflection of the window in front of her, Kerry saw Rolf and Aubrey shake hands again. Aubrey walked toward Kerry as if to speak to her, hesitated, and turned on his heel.
“Hey, chief, come and have a coffee with us and tell us about your dancin’ girlfriend,” someone called from the dining hall. As laughter exploded around him, Aubrey let the screen door slam.
No comment. No retaliation. But Kerry gave those idiots the finger, under her tea towel.
Aubrey was so handsome. So dark and controlled, kind of French but not really. Maybe he’d change his mind and come back to talk to her. Every two minutes or so, she flicked the hair out of her eyes and casually scanned the mess hall.
“What’s wrong with your neck?” Rolf whispered in her ear. “Got it bad, don’tcha?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.”
And he wasn’t the only one. Yvette hip-checked her, saying, “Don’t go there, girlfriend. He’s Metis and he’s not your kind. I’m warning you.”
Kerry felt her face turn red. “Get real,” she hissed. “Besides, you’re not my mother.”
CHAPTER 10
A ny time they got more than five minutes off, the girls stretched out on their cots to rest and read. Yvette found some moldy Reader’s Digests that she could pick up and put down; she said they kept her from thinking about Matthew. Kerry pulled some paperback romance novels off the shelf—how disgusted her mother would be!—and found them surprisingly addictive.
When Kerry finally got into bed that night, she opened the current gem, featuring a stunning blonde nurse and a tall, dark doctor on the cover. She knew it was silly but she was too exhausted to sleep and her legs were throbbing. All that standing to wash dishes wasn’t what her doctor had ordered. She knew she needed a good night’s sleep, but wh
en she shut her eyes all she could see were pine trees flaming like torches. She rolled over and rechecked the “door alarm” of boots and tin pie plates hanging from the doorknob. She hadn’t forgotten Yvette’s warning about how vulnerable they were.
She was still awake and checking her watch at four, and had barely nodded off when the birds woke her, well before Rolf’s alarm went off. He liked to get the coffee started and then pound on their door at five, expecting to see their not so sunny faces within fifteen minutes. But this morning was different. Whoa, it’s smoky in here. Eerie. Kind of like dry fog. She peered out the window. I can’t even see to the lake. She thought about pinching Yvette awake but decided to let her sleep. She pulled on boots over bare feet and galumphed to the kitchen.
“You’re up early. How’d you sleep?” Rolf looked calm. He’d lit Coleman lamps to penetrate the haze.
“Better since they hauled our trailer up here from town. I don’t think I could have stood another night in the storage room, listening to mice and imagining them running over my sleeping bag.”
“Sorry, kid, but you weren’t imagining anything. Didier brought me a secret weapon.” Rolf scooped up a tortoiseshell cat and plunked it in her arms.
“So cute!” She buried her nose in its fur. The cat wriggled and jumped to the floor. They watched as it licked a paw.
“And so effective. It left me five mousie presents this morning.”
“Does it have a name?” Rolf shook his head. “What about Mouser? I mean, that’s her job title.” Kerry went to the stove and poured a mug of coffee, black with three teaspoons of brown sugar. “So should I be worried that we’re being smoked out? It’s eerie.”
“It’s business as usual unless they tell me otherwise, but I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m always packed and ready to go. A fire this size is unpredictable, but hey, they know what they’re doing. They haven’t lost me yet, and I’ve been at this for over twenty years. It’ll probably clear.”