Gem

by Jane B. Mason

  The dogs went a little berserk when they realized that their own handlers were hiding … especially Diva, who’d been watching the trainings all morning. She raced through the burn area like a mad dog, and kept up with Gem … who eked out the lead and found Luke half-buried behind a rare unburned fallen trunk. On the second round, Gem was first to reach Meg, easily outpacing the other dogs.

  “I think she’s peeking,” Meg joked as she got to her feet. Her pants were covered in dark smears of ash—dogs and humans alike were all smeared and spotted, in fact.

  Finally it was Laurel’s turn to hide, and despite her attempt to make the find a challenge, Gem located her so fast the handlers agreed that Laurel should hold her back on the next round to give the other dogs a chance. She definitely had the skills needed for certification!

  Laurel crouched down so she was eye to eye with Gem and threw her arms around the golden’s neck. She couldn’t imagine life without her new companion! Gem sensed the happiness and pride and love wafting off of Laurel, and it made her feel happy and proud, too. Her chest was light as she leaned in and licked Laurel’s face all over. She was so content that she didn’t mind staying right by her side while the other dogs kept “finding.”

  When they loaded up half an hour later, the whole group was happy and tired and filthy. To celebrate their success, Laurel and Gem stopped for a cleansing and celebratory dip in the ocean on their way home. And this time, Laurel had two towels at the ready … one for each of them!

  One morning, when the days had started to get noticeably shorter, Gem awoke early, her nose twitching. She smelled smoke. It wasn’t the campfire smoke she knew, or even the scorchy smell from the burn area where they’d recently trained. This was different. This smoke was filled with odors of more than burning wood … a lot more. It held the scents of burning plastic and metal, of concrete. It was a chemical smell that made her lungs ache.

  Getting up off her bed, she walked over to a window and stared out. The sky was dark. Not night dark, but like someone had covered it with a thick gray blanket, blocking the sun. Gem whimpered and went to wait by the door, next to her leash and Laurel’s running shoes.

  “Not today, girl,” Laurel said a little apologetically. “Fall is fire season, and the air is awful out there. It’s not safe to breathe.” She walked to the back door. The wrong door. “You’ll have to do your business in the yard today …” Gem tilted her head, confused. She hardly ever went in the yard! Eventually, though, she understood. Her tail lower than usual, she took care of things on the small patch of grass between the raised beds.

  The two spent the day at home, with Laurel reading and Gem trying to sit still but in fact spending more time pacing in front of the door. “It’s a bad fire season,” Laurel told her repeatedly. “And we can’t go out when it’s smoky.” Gem had no idea what she was saying, but did know that she felt icky. She wanted her nose to stop itching. She wanted her lungs to stop aching. She wanted to run and dig at the beach!

  The smoke lasted for weeks, with Gem getting used to, but hating, being stuck inside. When at last the air cleared a bit, she and Laurel went back to work at Point Allende, where they led tours and provided information about the local wildlife to visitors. Gem was thrilled to be out of the house but could tell that Laurel was worried about something. For one thing, she had that sour apprehensive smell, like apple cider vinegar. For another, her movements were stiffer and tighter than usual. She didn’t talk to Gem as much as she usually did, either—she spoke more to herself in a low mumble. And there was a wrinkle between her eyebrows that never went away. On the weekend they trained, but only a little bit.

  On Saturday a week later, Laurel climbed out of bed looking and smelling both worried and hopeful. She reached for her phone and checked her email first thing. The air quality had been improving steadily. Though the hills had been burning for weeks, the flames were contained and the winds had shifted at last, clearing out the ashy smog and bringing in cleaner air. Everyone could breathe easier again, both literally and figuratively. Laurel had been grateful all along that dogs weren’t deployed during fires—their grueling job was to search for cadavers afterward—but was also grateful that the danger to everyone was now significantly reduced.

  She tapped her screen and saw that the email she’d been waiting for had come in. A little breathless, she opened it and began to read …

  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, looking over at Gem. “The certification test is happening! It’s on, Gem!”

  The final test had been scheduled weeks ago, but with the local wildfires Laurel half assumed it would be postponed since emergency personnel had been tapped for weeks on end. But here it was, the notice that the test was a go. Excitement and concern blasted through her at the same time. The big Southern California blaze had limited their training, and now it was time for them to show their stuff.

  They didn’t have a lot of time to get ready, but Laurel knew Gem would need to run off as much energy as possible, so they headed out for a beach romp. After a hearty breakfast (that was harder for Laurel to get down than Gem), Laurel prepared her backpack. “I hope we remember everything!” she said, grabbing Gem’s leash off its hook.

  At the testing site, there were lots of dogs and handlers Gem had never seen or smelled before. But there were also a couple of dogs she’d met at the beach, and Chip and Roger! Everyone was in the same situation—being tested after training time had been severely limited. The air crackled with anticipation and excitement. Gem felt tingly, too. Her legs were twitchy. She wanted to run and run and run!

  Laurel strapped the red SAR vest onto a visibly vibrating Gem. They were both thrumming with excess energy. To get a little out, they jogged the perimeter of the testing grounds a couple of times … then a couple more.

  Gem ran proudly alongside her handler. Her vest felt snug. Her body felt strong. She was ready to smell. She was ready to find. She was r-e-a-d-y!

  The team was going for urban/suburban SAR and FEMA certification. To pass, they’d need to show skills in two main areas, the first of which was trailing.

  Laurel called Gem to her side and into a sit. “Good girl, Gem,” she said, laying a steadying hand on the back of her neck. They both waited for the tester’s “go” signal. When it came, Laurel asked Gem to find, and Gem put her nose to the ground and began her search.

  The trail she was following had been left by a group of testers and was “aged,” which meant that it had been left six hours before so that the scent had time to dissipate and would be harder to follow. Per protocol, the trail had also been contaminated by other smells—garbage, petroleum products, building materials, and other pungent stuff. The victim could be anywhere and buried under anything—as far as a mile away.

  Laurel struggled to keep up with Gem as the golden retriever followed her quivering nose all over the vast site. Pausing to catch her breath, Laurel wondered if Gem was on the right path. They hadn’t trained in weeks, and with so many scents and distractions … well, it was a little unnerving.

  She told herself not to worry—Gem knew what she was doing. Gem was a natural. But as she saw the pup’s tail disappear into a tangle of bushes she felt uncertain. She took a deep breath and followed.

  A few minutes later, Gem barked out her alert, and Laurel was flooded with relief and a little touch of guilt. She never should have doubted her Gem!

  Back near their starting point, the team was granted a short break before their second test, which would be harder. Laurel kept Gem next to her and on a lead while the tester explained. In front of them were several intentionally collapsed buildings used to train firefighters and other first responders. Laurel looked up at the huge, spooky-looking structures and felt a bit of trepidation. Gem, though, wagged with excitement!

  “For this test we want you to let the pups range,” the tester said. “Your dog should basically be working solo, with you hanging back.”

  Laurel nodded, signaling that she understood. She took a deep breat
h to clear her mind. She had to be steady and calm. Gem could handle this, and so could she.

  “Begin!” the tester called. Gem walked around the edge of the massive, partially destroyed buildings before jumping up onto a porch with a cracked floor. Laurel held her breath as Gem’s rosy-golden tail disappeared in the wreck. It was never easy for her to let Gem range, because it triggered her fear of losing her. She much preferred to keep her jewel of a dog close!

  Inside, Gem scrambled over a teetering pile of rubble, her tail swaying back and forth. It reminded her of the big pile at the Sterling ranch. Her feet were fleet and sure as she ducked under bent rebar and over concrete crumbles. She sniffed all over the building she was in and then crawled back out and moved on to the second, leaving no stone unsmelled.

  As she approached the door of a third building, her nose detected the thing she was looking for … a live human! She zeroed in, moving quickly toward a doorway. The door itself was off its hinges and blocking the entry, so she scampered up a piece of lumber and through a window. The scent was not as strong here, so she backtracked down a short hallway, climbing over broken Sheetrock and pipes, and then back to the door that was off its hinges. Gem’s whole body buzzed as she got closer to the victim she knew was there. A minute later, she found the spot! She couldn’t see him but knew for certain he was beneath this pile of rubble.

  “Woof!” Gem barked her alert. Here! She barked until she heard people—and smelled Laurel—on the other side of the door. They moved the slab of wood aside and Laurel hurried over to find Gem pawing at the spot where the victim had buried himself. When the victim had been sprung and the test completed, they returned to their starting point to receive their official congratulations. Gem knew she had done well—she could tell by the way Laurel smelled and the expressions on all the human faces. She felt waggy all over! The humans shook hands, making it official. Gem was certified!

  When they left the testing area, Laurel drove straight to the closest In-N-Out Burger and the pair celebrated with a Double-Double combo. Gem got one of the burger patties, a few fries, and a lot of petting. After the fast-food fest, life for the certified SAR team in the beach house went back to the way it had been before the local firestorm, which was fine with Gem. She and Laurel woke up early every morning. They ran on the beach, swam, and worked at Point Allende State Park. On the weekends they skipped the work, slept in a little, and spent extra time at the shore. They dug holes, watched sunsets, chased seagulls and waves, and curled up on the couch together when it got dark. The only things that interrupted their routine were the less frequent training days—to keep up certification—and the more frequent wildfires as California’s dry season continued.

  And then the fires stopped and the rains came.

  At first the rains were welcome. They cleared the smoky air and made everything feel fresh and new. The storms didn’t stop Laurel and Gem from running or swimming, either. In fact, Gem liked running in the rain as much as running in sunshine—maybe more. The drops kept the paths and dry sand from getting too hot under her feet and felt good on her lolling tongue.

  But too much of a good thing could sometimes become a bad thing.

  The rains continued for several weeks. Then a storm came and stayed. And stayed. And stayed. It rained steadily for days on end—the clouds refused to allow the sun through for even a moment.

  Without the sunshine, Laurel began to wilt like a plant in a closet. Gem observed her person anxiously. She seemed to droop even more in the evenings, when they watched the news and listened to the water drip, drip, drip outside. In the morning she didn’t always get up to run.

  To cheer her up one evening, Gem climbed onto the couch and settled heavily on top of her.

  “Ooof! Gemmy! You’re too big to be a lapdog,” Laurel had laughed. But only for a second. Her smile disappeared as Gem rearranged herself so that only her head rested on Laurel’s leg. She pet Gem absently, her eyes glued to the glowing, talking screen several feet away.

  Laurel had lived through droughts and fires in California before—they came with the territory, along with earthquakes. The current situation, though, was new to her. The bad fire season followed closely by such extreme, saturating rains was creating dangerous conditions. The bushes, trees, and grasses had all been burned away. The charred and barren hills were left exposed. Without living root systems to hold the earth in place, it was washing away in the endless rain. Not only was the heavy downpour stripping the fertile topsoil, it was seeping in and destabilizing the mountains.

  Laurel gnawed on a thumbnail like a stressed-out dog working over a chew toy. “They’re evacuating,” she said aloud.

  Gem lifted her head to look at Laurel’s face, then resettled and pressed her chin down on the runner’s muscular leg. All she could do to calm her person was to be here, to lean in and wag slowly.

  After taking a deep breath and releasing it, Laurel closed her eyes for a long moment. All fall she’d prayed for rain to help contain fires. Now she prayed for it to stop before the mountains came crashing down on the houses below.

  Luckily the danger zone did not include their neighborhood, which was flat enough and far enough away from the hills to be safe. Her heart went out to the people being asked to evacuate. Many of them had animals that had to be moved safely and quickly. She couldn’t imagine the stress! She watched news footage of folks coaxing their horses into trailers to drive them far from the unsound hills, and more footage of people refusing to leave. As a trained rescue worker, she knew the importance of being prepared, listening to the warnings, and doing what the authorities advised for your own safety and the safety of others. She kept a backpack of essentials in her car and a second one in a little closet by the door. She worried for everyone who had to grab and go—prepared or not. And she especially worried for the people who were not heeding the warning … the people who’d decided to stay in spite of it.

  That night in bed, Gem lay curled up on her thick cushion on the floor. She listened to Laurel, waiting for her breathing to become soft and regular, the way humans breathed when they were asleep. But Laurel’s breathing didn’t change. It sounded as though she was fighting with her covers. Punching her pillow. Rolling over and over. At last Laurel’s breath grew steady and even. Gem closed her own eyes and was snoring softly within seconds.

  Sometime in the night Gem woke up. It was dark. The rain had slowed. She heard a distant rumble—or maybe she felt it—or both. It was far away and reminded her of the sound of crashing waves. But it was not the ocean. It was farther away and in the wrong direction. Gem whimpered, and Laurel’s hand dropped over the edge of the bed onto her head. “It’s okay,” Laurel mumbled sleepily. But the hair on Gem’s neck and back still stood at attention. It was not okay, and Gem knew it.

  The call came early, even before Gem had gotten them up to pee. The anxious dog had barely slept after the strange rumble in the night. She could feel that something was amiss, and it felt like something big.

  Laurel must have sensed something was off, too. She answered her phone on the first ring and without an ounce of sleepiness in her voice. Though she’d been dreaming a moment before, she felt wide-awake as she said, “Hello.”

  Sitting up, she held the phone to her ear. She looked right at Gem as she listened. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh … No. We’ve never been deployed as a team before … No, we haven’t trained for this scenario exactly … Yes, we’re up for it. Of course. Of course. I’m sure. Text me the address.”

  Gem never looked away, and Laurel felt like her dog might be reading her mind. “This is it, Gemmy,” she told the pup. “They need us. Now.”

  Laurel started pulling on clothes before she even made it to the bathroom. She opened the back door for Gem to go out, but Gem just looked at her. The pup could feel the tension. She didn’t want to miss a second.

  “Okay.” Laurel shrugged. It was good that dogs didn’t have to wait to have working plumbing every time they wanted to relieve themselves. “This could
be a long day,” she said. “Or week,” she added, mostly to herself.

  Laurel poured two bowls of breakfast, one granola and one kibble. She ate her cereal with yogurt, standing next to Gem. It didn’t feel right to sit down, and adrenaline was already coursing through her body. They needed to get to the address she’d been given over the phone as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence. Honestly, it didn’t feel right to eat, either, but she forced the food down. Her body would need the fuel.

  Gem crunched her last dry food nugget and glanced up at the still-eating Laurel. She paced. She held back an anxious whine. Finally, Laurel put her bowl in the sink and got out Gem’s vest. The good dog sat still while Laurel fastened and adjusted her SAR wear.

  “Ready, girl?” Laurel asked. She knelt in front of her dog and looked into her eyes. Gem wasn’t able to decipher all of Laurel’s words, but she understood their meaning. Laurel was certain of that. “There was a massive mudslide last night. People are trapped. We need to go and find them before their time runs out.”

  Gem felt the urgency in Laurel’s voice and heard the concern, too. When the front door opened, she was the first to the car.

  The slide wasn’t far away, but it felt like it took forever to get there. Laurel tuned in to the local news on the radio to see if she could get more information. She kept her eyes on the road as she listened to the special disaster coverage. It sounded bad. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter until her knuckles were white, and she had to remind herself to take a deep breath and loosen her grip.

  The worst of the landslide predictions—the ones that had been making it hard for her to sleep at night—had come true. In the early dawn the rains filled the creeks beyond capacity. The waters overflowing the banks added to the heavy saturation levels, and the hillsides above the community of Madrona began to slough and slide. Thick rivers of mud coursed down roadways, gathering speed and debris. The mudflows surged through the neighborhoods, overwhelming everything in their paths—cars, trees, entire houses—gathering more and more wreckage as they careened through. When they finally slowed and stopped, there was nothing but ruin in their wakes.