by Roxie Noir
I lean forward and crack the knuckles on my right hand, studying the map. I know why we’re not digging fire breaks and doing controlled burns with the local guys.
It’s because, if the wind does change, we’re the unlucky bastards who’ll be keeping Eaglevale and Coldwater from burning down, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little excited about it.
“We’re cooling our heels until this thing gets hot?” I ask Silas.
He looks over at me and grins.
“You got it,” he says, still keeping his voice low. “The minute the wind changes, we’re on our way up.”
A thrill goes through me. It’s not that I hope the towns burn down, or that people have to be evacuated, or that, God forbid, anyone dies. Hell, I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep all that from happening. But it’s been a long fire season, and most of it’s been boring and backbreaking: digging, controlled burns, sleep, do it again.
If the Saturn Fire burns east, it’ll be a challenge. An incredibly dangerous challenge, but I’ve never let that stop me, and right now I’m itching for something like this.
Porter is pointing at a column of numbers along the side of the whiteboard: temperature, wind speed, dew point, and humidity. I force myself to pay attention. It’s hard, though, because my mind is elsewhere, flying all over the place.
To Spineside Trail, the only way into the Spires. To Eaglevale and Coldwater, both perched on low peaks in the middle of a dense forest with only one road out. To how hard it is to predict where a fire will go even on open prairie, never mind terrain like that.
To Clementine this morning, her body against mine on that tiny cot in the fire lookout. I think about how I wanted to stop the world for that moment and stay there, alone with her, in that perfect stillness.
“Casden,” Porter says. I realize everyone is looking at me, and I’m staring off into space.
“Yes,” I say.
Now there are two men up front: Porter, and an older, gray-haired, wiry forest ranger.
“You’re familiar with the area, right?”
“Grew up in Ashlake, still live there when I’m not with you all,” I say.
I look at the map again. Now Spineside Trail is highlighted, a winding, switchback-filled green line into the canyon.
“And I’ve hiked into the Spires,” I say.
“Good man,” the ranger says, nodding like he approves. “Useful to be sending someone who knows the territory at least a little. Get your pants on straight and your shoes tied right.”
This must be Randy.
The other hotshots all look politely baffled, like they’re not quite sure whether that was a compliment or not.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Come sit down here by me,” Randy says, pointing at a wooden bench. “You can help me out when my memory starts to go a little blurry.”
It’s weird, but I just do as he asks. He seems like a charming weirdo, and I try to humor charming weirdos.
“All right,” Randy begins. “The first problem with Spineside is it’s gonna be about two feet wide. Sometimes less. Sometimes a little more, but expect to get real up close and personal with some rock face when you get in there. Not too personal, mind you.”
Confused laughter ripples through the crowd, and I try not to smile.
23
Clementine
The moment the door closes behind Hunter, Mandy looks around furtively, then leans over the counter toward me.
“Clementine, can we please talk?” she stage-whispers.
Fuck. I wish I’d answered the door when she knocked, because now that’s another thing I have to explain. For a moment I consider telling her that I’ve got really important work to get done and maybe we can discuss this later, but I don’t have anything that can’t wait five minutes.
Plus, I’m dealing with things like an adult now, remember?
I put my elbows on the counter and lean down.
“About Hunter?” I ask.
The door opens behind me, and I straighten up. Two other rangers walk past us, and when they’re gone, Mandy gives a small, impatient sigh.
“Not here,” she says, still whispering. “Come on.”
Now I’m nervous, because I have no idea what she’s gonna say. Did she hook up with Hunter before the spaghetti dinner or something? Did she see him kick Trout?
He didn’t do something with her after the night with the telescopes, did he? He seemed upset that I was gone and didn’t even text...
We walk down a hallway and Mandy pulls open a door, looks around again, and steps inside, turning on the light.
I stop short.
“That’s the supply closet,” I say, assuming she opened the wrong door.
“Come on,” she says, so I shrug and step inside. She pulls the door shut.
“Why are we in a closet?” I say, keeping my voice low in case someone walks by.
“I need to talk to you privately,” she says. She’s a little shorter than me, and the closet’s not very big, so I feel like her wide brown eyes are filling my entire field of vision.
“About Hunter?”
“What’s up with you guys?” she asks, blinking.
“We’re... dating,” I say, and take a deep breath, getting ready to tell the whole long story.
“Since when?” Mandy asks. “When did you start dating?”
I almost laugh at the question, because it seems so strange, but Mandy looks so serious that I don’t.
“Two nights ago, I guess,” I say, slowly. “But we were...”
Mandy heaves a huge sigh of relief, cutting me off again. She’s not usually this weird and impatient, but I think between whatever she’s going to tell me about Hunter and the Saturn Fire, she’s kind of stressed right now.
“So you weren’t dating yet the day there was that big thunderstorm?” she asks.
I cross my arms in front of myself.
“You have to get to the point,” I say.
“I would never flirt with someone else’s boyfriend,” she says, her eyes still wide and completely serious. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m someone who would do that.”
Oh my God, just tell me whatever you’re going to tell me, I think. Now I’m seriously annoyed, because I have a million things to do and dragging something out of Mandy isn’t on that list.
“Did you and Hunter do something or not?” I say, irritated.
She gasps.
“No!” she breathes.
My stomach unclenches.
“I didn’t realize that you were interested in him, because I wouldn’t have started flirting with him,” she says. “Clementine, please don’t think that I was trying to steal your boyfriend, or that I’m some kind of floozy, because it would break my heart if you thought I was that kind of person.”
There it is. She just wants to stop feeling guilty, and she wants to make sure everyone knows she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not quite the same as a heartfelt apology, but she didn’t know about Hunter and I, so it’s not like she owes me one.
“Of course not,” I say. “I didn’t tell you.”
“You just seemed so upset,” she goes on.
“It’s a long story,” I say, because now that this is over, I just want to get out of that closet.
“You weren’t mad with me?”
For a moment I feel bad, because she really is sweet, the kind of person who can’t bear the thought that someone might be angry with her.
“Not at all,” I reassure her, then open the door back into the office.
Jennifer gives us a weird look but doesn’t say anything.
Late that afternoon, I’m staring at my computer monitor between my fingers, resting my chin on the palms of my hands. All the map symbols have stopped making sense, and my to-do list is two haphazard sheets of printer paper, but most of the things on it are crossed off.
Emergency phone calls: made. Emergency shelter in case the fire turns: available, with volunteers on noti
ce. I’ve made sure the hospital in Ashlake is alerted to the situation. I’ve arranged for all broadcast media on the east side of the Spires to warn people, I’ve sent hundreds of emails with the evacuation checklist, and I’ve made dozens of phone calls.
At this point, I almost hope the wind changes, because I worked hard, dammit. If the fire keeps going the way it is right now — and it probably will — then I spent a day doing useless preparation.
Well, not useless. Completely vital, even if the fire doesn’t turn. And I don’t really want it to, obviously. Towns could burn down.
Plus, Hunter’s crew is still here. They haven’t been sent to help contain the fire to the south, and no one can say what they will be doing. I have a bad feeling they’re being held in reserve in case things get really hairy.
“Okay,” I say out loud, and stand. I’ve been sitting for hours, and my butt is starting to feel like it might actually be part of the chair.
I stretch a few times, still standing in my cubicle, reaching way over my head and then touching my toes. I jump up and down a few times, do some arm circles, then run in place a little, all with my eyes closed because I’ve been staring at a screen all day.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter again, stretching my hands against each other. “Time to tackle some fuckin’ road closures.”
I open my eyes, and then I jump a mile in the air because Hunter is leaning against one wall of my cube, grinning at me like an asshole.
“Jesus!” I hiss.
“Hey there,” he says.
“Shit, how long were you standing there?”
I put my hand over my chest, my heart still pounding with the surprise. He just shrugs.
“Not that long,” he says.
“I’ve been sitting all day,” I explain, glancing around the room full of cubicles. No one else can see us from where we’re standing, so I lean in and give him a quick, chaste, quiet kiss.
Hunter puts one hand on my hip, drums his fingers for a moment, then removes it. I laugh a little.
“Yeah, I haven’t really mentioned this to anyone besides Mandy yet,” I say, keeping my voice low even though most people are out of the office right now. “I don’t tend to keep my coworkers updated on my romance situation, and I also haven’t gotten the chance because there’s this fire...”
“And here I thought it was because you were ashamed of me,” he teases.
“So ashamed,” I say. “Can you imagine my reputation if they found out I was involved with one of the hotshot crew?”
“You may as well shave your head and move into a cave in the mountains,” he agrees, somberly.
“I’ll get on that as soon as I send out these road closure bulletins,” I say. “What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing yet,” he says, his deep blue eyes looking at me steadily. “If the fire keeps burning south, we’ll head out sometime tomorrow.”
I nod, because I can read between the lines of his half-answer.
“And if it turns east you’re the ones they’ll call?”
“Clem, I’ll be fine.”
“I know.”
“Lorenzo’s is bringing over a truck full of free Italian food in an hour,” he says. “You and Mandy and Lucy want to come by?”
“Hey, Clementine,” Jennifer’s voice shouts from across the room.
I stand on my toes and look over the wall. I guess no one else is around.
“Yeah?” I call.
“Did you talk to that guy who had all the turkeys in his freezer and was really concerned—”
She pops her head over her own cubicle wall, sees Hunter standing there, and stops.
“Sorry, I thought we were alone in here,” she says, coming out of her cube. She walks around to where we’re standing, laughing a little to herself. “Hi, I’m Jennifer, the ranger coordinator.”
“Hunter,” he says. “I’m with the hotshots.”
“You guys like your plaque?” Jennifer asks. “I was supposed to give it out but then there was this raccoon in my house, and you know how that goes.”
She waves one hand in the air, like everyone gets raccoons in their houses sometimes.
“The plaque is great,” Hunter says, putting his hands in his pockets. “How’d the raccoon get in?”
“Dog door,” she sighs. “We’re both gone all day, and if she can’t get out she’ll just pee on the rug right by the door. We tried those pee pads, but...”
Jennifer shakes her head.
“Gertrude isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer,” I say gently.
Hunter’s eyebrows raise at the name Gertrude.
“Except when it comes to stealing underpants,” I go on.
“I see her reputation precedes her,” Jennifer says.
“You know, it wouldn’t be hard to rig up an RFID-activated lock on the dog door,” Hunter says. “Put something on Gertrude’s collar, and it’d unlock if she was within a couple feet, but the raccoons couldn’t get in.”
Jennifer crosses her arms and leans against the wall of my cubicle.
“Go on,” she says.
“Jen, turkeys,” I say.
She points at Hunter.
“I want to hear more about this dog door, but I gotta talk to Clementine,” she says. “How do I find you?”
“Take my number,” he says. “I’ll be back in town when fire season’s over.”
I just sit there and watch my boyfriend and my boss exchange information. I’m a little jealous, but I’m jealous that he can just talk to people like this and make friends so easily, not that he’s talking to Jennifer.
If that were me I’d probably still be fumbling over RFID-activated.
Hunter puts his phone back in his pocket, then looks at me.
“See you at dinner?” he asks.
“For sure,” I say.
Then we nod at each other, because I’m not sure how else to say goodbye in front of Jennifer. We both watch him go, and then she looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“That’s certainly none of my business,” she says.
“Nope,” I agree.
“And I’d never ask unprofessional questions,” she goes on.
I laugh.
“Good,” I say.
“But you could do a lot worse than a cute firefighter with a nice butt,” she finishes.
I blush, even though I’m still laughing.
“Thanks,” I say. “Turkeys?”
“Right,” she says. “This guy is really freaking out that all his turkeys are gonna thaw, and he wants to know if there will be freezing facilities if he gets evacuated...”
We sort out the guy with the turkey problem. I update the road closures. I keep all the other ranger stations abreast of what’s happening, and then finally, ninety minutes later, I get to leave work and head home.
I take the world’s fastest shower, because I haven’t bathed in three days, and then I frown at myself in the mirror. I feel like some kind of bedraggled rodent, because I’ve got circles under my eyes, my hair is wet, and I just look stressed.
I’m worried about Hunter fighting a dangerous fire, but of course I’m worried about that. I should be worried about that. If I weren’t a little worried I’d be some kind of monster.
But beneath that, I can feel a familiar cold, raw sensation gnawing at me, and I hate it. It’s the tiny voice that whispers he likes doing things that take him away from you, the voice that whispers he’s only here until he figures out you’re not very exciting.
I try not to listen to it, but it won’t fucking shut up.
Still, it used to be much, much louder. It used to shout at me when he was in the Marines, and thank God, it’s not nearly that loud now. I wish it would shut up entirely, but no matter how wrong I know it is, it won’t.
I take a deep breath, then point at myself in the mirror.
“Quit it,” I say to my reflection. Then I swipe on some mascara so I don’t look so tired, get dressed, and head next door.
After three
days in the woods eating granola bars, oatmeal, and freeze-dried spaghetti, I eat two servings of lasagna, chicken cacciatore, meatballs, and then have cannoli for dessert. It’s delicious, and all the guys are in high spirits, laughing and shouting and eating an incredible amount of pasta.
After dinner, a bunch of us sit around the couches in the living room and bullshit for a while. Hunter puts his arm around me, and no one blinks an eye, so I lean against him a little and listen to the guys talk about which dive bars in the western states have the strongest, cheapest drinks.
“What was that place in Deadwood called?” one guy is saying. He’s slouched on a love seat, his feet on the coffee table. “Something saloon, probably.”
“The Scarlet Lady Saloon?” someone else suggests.
“Nah, that’s in Idaho. Outside Moscow, maybe?”
“Maybe it was just the Deadwood Saloon,” the first guy says. “I just remember I got tanked there off of Jack and Coke. That cute redhead bartender practically had to pull me back to that shitty motel that put us up.”
Silas, the guy I played baggo with last Saturday, laughs.
“She wasn’t that cute,” he says.
“She wasn’t that redheaded,” Hunter says.
The guy who was talking about the saloon just grins and shrugs.
“She did drag my sorry ass home,” he says. “That’s what counts, right?”
“Yeah, that’s true love,” Silas says, leaning back in an easy chair.
“For my money it’s the Wildcat’s Lair,” says Daniel, the only other guy whose name I can remember. They keep introducing themselves, and I keep forgetting. “In beautiful Elko, Nevada.”
At least three of the guys, Hunter included, just groan.
“I’ve been there,” I pipe up.
The conversation stops awkwardly for a moment, like they’re not quite sure what to do with a new member, and I immediately feel like there’s a spotlight pointing directly on my face.