“Everyone okay?” His voice was raspy, and he coughed, hacking up black spit.
One by one his crew popped out of their shelters, their faces filthy, tears from the smoke making tracks through the dirt. “We survived, at least,” Simon said. He turned his head and winced. “We gotta get outta here.”
“I’ll call it in.”
“Dispatch, this is Crew Twelve. Acknowledge.” Jax’s fingers ached as he held down the button on his radio. He let go and his radio crackled before coming to life.
“Crew Twelve, go ahead.”
“We got caught in the back burn. Deployed fire shelters. We found the missing hiker, but he’s injured. Suspected concussion with a head laceration. Coming down, I took a leg injury to my knee. We have smoke inhalation and probably some burns that need to be treated, but we’re not getting out of here on our own.”
“Copy that, Twelve. Glad to hear you made it. The position of the fire was noted by spotters, and we already have a crew coming in your direction. Can you give us exact coordinates?” Jax gave them their last known GPS coordinates, then sighed in relief when Dispatch let him know they’d have company within the hour.
“I think I’m going to need the burn unit,” Dave said shakily. He held his hands out stiffly in front of him, and his face was already showing signs of a second-degree burn. His ears were blistering, the fluid puffing up and distorting his earlobes.
“Damn, man. I’m sorry.” Jax couldn’t help but feel guilty. They might have been able to outrun the fire if he hadn’t gotten hurt.
“Not your fault.”
Carlos and Franklin checked on them and helped resituate Scottie, Dave, and Jax to wait for their rescue team. Simon checked the equipment to see if anything survived. It was all Jax could do to stay awake and alert. His knee was throbbing, his hands were a tiny step below “fucking shit that burns like hellfire” levels, and his mouth and throat hurt. He really wanted some water.
“Should I hike down the trail to meet the other crew?” Simon squatted down next to Jax. Scottie was breathing shallowly beside him, the rasp clear in the quiet.
“No, I think we should all stay together. Conditions could be worse south along the trail.”
“All right.” He folded up his legs and sank down in the dirt right there beside Jax. He leaned against the dirt embankment at their backs. “I think this thing saved our lives.”
It had. Without the height of the bank and the way it pushed the flames more over them instead of directly on top, they would’ve been stuck in the path of the fire a lot longer. He wished they hadn’t been forced to use the new fire shelters, but his crew had all survived. They’d get his stamp of approval.
His pain was steadily growing, and, beneath the dirt and soot, Dave’s face was pale and sweaty as his burns began to puff up and blister. Scottie continued to make little sense, and he constantly asked what was happening and who they were whenever he woke up from his trips to la la loopy land. The callouts of the rescue crew were welcome, even if it galled him to need them.
“Hot Shot Crew Twenty-two. Let’s get you out of here.” Franklin reported to the head EMS on their crew, and the other two medics were checking everyone. They passed out water, and Jax could’ve kissed the guy who gave him the lukewarm bottle. He held it carefully as he drank and then swished out his mouth, spitting off to one side.
Next to him, a medic urged Scottie to take small sips when he tried to gulp down the whole bottle.
“Your knee looks pretty bad.”
Jax grunted. “Feels like it’s going to burst.” It was so swollen he couldn’t really see that it was a knee anymore.
“We brought a couple of stokes. We’ll get you down to the Box with as little jarring as possible and then back to the ICP. From there, I’m guessing you’ll all be heading to the hospital to be checked out.”
“My burns aren’t bad,” Simon objected.
“They could be. Sometimes the true depth of the damage isn’t apparent for twenty-four to forty-eight hours after you’re burned. You know that. And, if that’s the case, you want to be where they have the good drugs.”
Simon looked put out, and Jax knew how he felt. They were firefighters for a reason, and now they were sidelined because of injuries. It was even worse when they loaded him into the thinly padded metal basket and then trekked him out of the burned-out shell of the forest and back to the road.
The mobile members of his crew sat up front with the others, but Scottie, Dave, and Jax were strapped onto stretchers in the Box. Their wider rig, made to house them for days at a time when they were in remote areas fighting fires, couldn’t avoid the washboards and ruts either. Jax gritted his teeth and held onto the groans trying to escape as his leg was bounced around.
“Someone put a coat or something under Scottie’s head,” Jax said when he cried out in pain on a section that made the vehicle bounce up and down and sway at the same time.
The paramedic between them shook his head. “He might have a neck injury.”
“Unlikely.” Jax snorted. “I carried the guy over my shoulders since we didn’t have a choice, and him jerking himself up is what caused this.” He waved a hand toward his knee. “And I had to fight to keep him still in the shelter. Trust me, his spine is fine, but his concussion is going to be a hell of a lot worse if you keep letting his head bounce off the stokes like that. This padding is shit.”
“All right.” The medic slid a rolled-up shirt under Scottie’s head. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.” Jax closed his eyes. He just wanted this day to be over. Or enough painkillers that he didn’t know what day it was. Exhaustion dragged at him, and he sighed.
Chapter Five
“OW.” SCOTTIE groaned and shut his eyes again. The top of his head felt like it was going to pop off, and his eyes and throat were burning. What the hell happened? He tried to remember, but all he had was a series of impressions of a very angry man. And being very hot.
His mouth was nearly as dry as a desert, and he had one of those masks on his face. He pulled it down.
“Hi there.”
Scottie blinked, leaving his eyes open a narrow slit. “Hello?” His voice croaked like a frog.
A woman pushed the mask back in place over his mouth and nose. “My name is Charlotte. I’m a nurse at Legacy in Gresham. How are you feeling?” She reached down and attached a small device to his finger.
“Like shit,” he answered honestly.
She smiled. “I bet.” Scottie probably shouldn’t be cursing in front of a stranger, but the older nurse looked like she’d probably heard it all—more than once.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asked.
“You hurt your head, and you were caught in a fire up at Mt. Adams. You came in with a crew of firefighters.”
“Water?”
“I’ll get you some ice chips, but you can’t have any water until the doctor clears it.”
Scottie made the mistake of trying to nod. The room shifted in a sickening way, and his whole body flushed at the same time his mouth watered in preparation for his stomach making an appearance on the outside of his body.
“Oh dear. Dizzy?”
He grunted.
“I can get you something for that. Here, use this if you need to throw up.” She handed him a small blue circle, then pulled the bottom down, creating a bag. “I’ll be right back.”
She walked out of his room while Scottie tried to control the nausea bubbling inside him. He took short breaths, closing his eyes. The pillow was flat, and the side of his head hurt. The IV in the back of his hand didn’t feel good either.
Charlotte wasn’t gone long, and she came back in with a man in a white coat following her. The first thing she did was offer him a small cup filled with ice chips. His coordination was off, and Scottie missed the spoon when he tried to grab it. Matter-of-factly she scooped up a few on the spoon for him.
Scottie sighed in relief when the ice melted and coated his tongue in cool fluid. She
gave him two more bites while the doctor fiddled with the machines around his bed. He turned toward Scottie, a clipboard and pen in his hands.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Pritchard. You’ve had a head wound, and we need to do a few tests now that you’re conscious. Are you up to that?”
“Okay.” Scottie did not try to nod again.
The doctor clicked the pen and then looked down at his clipboard. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Scottie Ness.”
“And do you know today’s date?”
“I’m not sure. Late August.” He blinked, trying to focus and remember the actual day, but he couldn’t.
“Pretty close.” The doctor smiled and wrote something down. “Remember these words for me. Pickle, gopher, and Washington.”
“Pickle, gopher, and Washington,” Scottie repeated.
“Very good. So what do you remember?”
“I was camping, but there was a storm. And a fire. I was packing up. Then… I don’t know. There was a guy, and it was hot. My head hurts really bad.”
“You were hit on the head by a branch and sustained a scalp laceration. We closed it with fourteen staples, but you also have a pretty severe concussion based on the initial medic’s observations and our tests. On top of that, you were trapped in a wildfire and sustained some second-degree burns on one ear, your neck, and the back of your left arm. You also suffered some temporary lung damage from the heat and smoke, which is why we have you on oxygen.” The doctor made a note in his chart.
“We did X-rays and a CT scan to confirm you have no skull fractures or bleeding in your brain.”
Scottie blinked. “That’s good. I guess my concussion isn’t that severe.”
“Damage from a concussion doesn’t necessarily show up on scans, though, so now you’re awake we can assess you again. Can you tell me those words I asked you to remember earlier?”
“Um. Washington. That’s where I live, in Vancouver. P. P… something.” Frowning, Scottie squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I can’t remember.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Ness. Short-term memory loss is very common with a concussion. Your long-term memory seems to be fine. Charlotte said you’re dizzy and nauseated, is that right?”
“Yeah. If I move my head, it feels like the room tilts sideways.”
“That’s not unusual either. Unfortunately, with a concussion the only real treatment we have is rest. We’d like to monitor you for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Do I have to stay? When is the earliest I could be released?”
“You really should stay. Concussions can be sneaky. If your injuries are worse than we believe, a delay in getting medical attention could be fatal. Burns can also worsen over time. You need medical supervision. If you don’t stay, you would need to sign out against medical advice, and you’d need someone to be with you constantly in case you lose consciousness or have a seizure. Do you have someone we can call?”
Scottie didn’t. His parents both worked. His little sister was in college. His friends all worked to pay off their student loans and afford their tiny studios or shared apartments with an average of three roommates apiece. “I guess I’ll stay here.” At least he had good insurance.
STAYING IN the hospital to rest meant the exact opposite. The mattress was hard, his pillow was flat, his head wouldn’t stop pounding, and they turned on the light each time they came in to wake him up, reigniting his headache.
But he was still alive. The dizziness had lessened, and he managed to hold down the bland breakfast. Better yet, they gave him a big cup full of ice water with a stretchy straw so he didn’t have to move his head to drink it.
Watching TV put him to sleep. He had nothing to read. Whenever he decided to sleep for lack of anything else to do, it seemed like that was when the staff decided to come in. All in all, by the time they were ready to release him, he was more exhausted than he could ever remember being.
But he’d learned the firefighter who’d shared his fire shelter with him and saved his life was in the same hospital, so instead of calling a cab and heading home once they were sure he wouldn’t go to sleep and never wake up, he begged for the room number.
Of course, due to hospital policy, he had to take a wheelchair ride to the front door, then turn around and walk himself back in and over to reception to find out where exactly he needed to go. He rolled his eyes and went along with it—anything to get out of there.
Scottie was stopped by a set of locked doors when he got up to the floor he needed. It took him a minute to figure out the phone system to call in and get permission from the nurses’ station to enter, but at least once he did, the room number he was looking for was only two doors down.
He hesitated but eventually worked up the nerve to knock.
“Come in.” The voice Scottie heard was as gravelly as his had been when he woke up. He pushed open the door and then carefully parted the curtain.
The blurry face he remembered didn’t do justice to the firefighter at all. “Um, hi. My name’s Scottie. You saved me.”
That frown was the same. “I know.” The firefighter indicated his bandaged hand and arm propped up on the pillow at his side. “I was there.”
His hand was a big ball and the bandages went halfway up his arm. Scottie swallowed hard. “That looks really bad.” His burns weren’t nearly as severe, thankfully. “Thank you, for protecting me.”
“I was doing my job.”
Scottie stiffened. He wasn’t imagining the hostility, but he’d come to say thank you and he was going to say it.
“Well, Mr….” Scottie waited.
“Quintero,” he said grudgingly.
“Mr. Quintero, you saved my life so I wanted to say thank you before I left, even if you were just doing your job.”
“We rescue all sorts of city people who are where they shouldn’t be. Especially if they think they can take the next National Geographic cover.” Mr. Quintero shifted on the bed, and Scottie noticed his leg was wrapped in a brace from midthigh to midcalf.
Scottie had to pause for a few seconds before he blurted out the nasty reply he was thinking. “I realize you don’t know me, but I’ve been camping in those woods since I was a kid. I am not a newbie from the city with more wild ideas than sense. I had all the gear a responsible hiker packs, and I made sure I dropped off a map with my plans for the week at the Forest Service station in Trout Lake. There was no way I could predict the fire, but I certainly wouldn’t stick around to take pictures.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you got hurt helping me. Good-bye.” When Scottie stepped out of the room he had to stop and close his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He was so angry he was dizzy again. He reached for the wall to anchor him and nearly toppled sideways when it was farther away than he thought.
“Whoa! Are you okay? Do you need to sit down, Scottie?” Someone grasped his shoulders, and Scottie opened his eyes. The man holding him had light blond hair and eyebrows that looked like they’d taken some damage recently. Scottie didn’t know the guy, but whoever it was seemed to know him.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Simon. I was on the crew that rescued you.”
“Oh. Oh!” This guy didn’t seem nearly as hostile as Mr. Quintero. Then again, he wasn’t lying in a hospital bed hooked up to machines. “Thank you. For saving me, I mean.”
“All part of the job, but you’re welcome.” The words were almost exactly what Mr. Quintero had said, but it didn’t sound the same at all when Simon said it.
“Were you hurt?” Scottie hoped not, and while Simon’s face was red, he didn’t have any blisters or bandages that Scottie could see.
“Just some minor burns on my legs. My shelter kept collapsing, and then I’d kick it back up, then it’d collapse again.”
Scottie grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry we couldn’t save your equipment. That was a really nice camera setup you had.”
“I know. I wish
I didn’t have to replace it, but I’d rather be alive. A little battered, but nothing time won’t fix.”
Simon clapped him on the arm. “Good attitude, man. No one’s goal in life should be to become a crispy critter. I’m glad you’re going to be okay.”
Considering Simon and Mr. Quintero both acted like being burned while rescuing someone from a fire was just another part of the job, that was ironic.
“Mr. Quintero didn’t seem to feel the same way.”
“Jax? He’s just a cranky ass because he’s going to be laid up for the rest of the summer. That man considers fire to be”—he tilted his head—“I don’t know, like a living entity. Sometimes he works with it and sometimes he pits himself against it. A fire he set is the one that took out his team. Knowing that galls him because the back burn was his tool, and it turned on us… on him.”
“So it’s not just a job.”
Simon shook his head. “Not for him.”
MR. QUINTERO’S attitude stuck with Scottie, an irritant under his skin that he couldn’t ignore even after he got home and was trying to relax. The guy was a jerk, but he’d saved him. He got hurt doing it. Scottie didn’t really remember anything distinct, but he had the sense of someone holding him close.
Saying thank you didn’t seem like enough. His dizzy spells were infrequent, but enough that he didn’t want to drive. His SUV had been consumed alongside the team’s truck, and his insurance hadn’t cut him a check yet. He had rental insurance but it wasn’t worth using it.
So he called Carter, regretting it even as he dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Carter. It’s Scottie.”
“Oh hey, I didn’t recognize the number. You’re back early. Come to your senses and leave the dirt and bugs behind for some excitement in the city before you come back to work on Monday?”
“Not even close. I had more than enough excitement in the mountains, and I don’t know if I’ll be back to work on Monday or not.” The doctor who’d discharged him recommended against anything requiring long hours in front of the computer for at least a week. Scottie had tried to check his e-mail and the screen swam in front of his eyes, even on a dim setting.
On Fire Page 4