by Pamela Clare
I’m still here, Lexi. I’m still here.
Then he heard it.
Thwop-thwop-thwop-thwop
The sound brought his gaze skyward. It sounded like…
“It’s about time.” Austin waved to the chopper, but it wasn’t as if the pilot could miss seeing them—the only two moving, breathing beings in sight.
Bear stopped in his tracks, went rigid.
Austin sank to the dirt, his strength long gone. “It’s okay, Bear. Don’t be afraid. There are men inside. They’re here to help me and take us to Scarlet. Do you want to fly with me?”
Bear stood beside him, watching the helicopter.
The bird set down fifty yards away, rotor wash sending up a cloud of dust and ash. Two people jumped out and ran toward them carrying first aid kits.
One of them called out to him. “Austin Taylor?”
Austin raised a hand. “That’s me. This is Bear.”
“Hey, Bear. I’m glad we found you, Mr. Taylor.” The paramedic knelt. “You’ve had a lot of people worried.”
“Sorry about that. I sheltered in a lake when the place burned over and became hypothermic. My truck was destroyed. Bear has been helping me. He doesn’t talk much, and I think the chopper scares him.”
“We’re going to take good care of Austin, Bear.” The paramedic reached for his hand mic. “Dispatch, Rescue Ten. We’ve located Austin Taylor and someone named Bear. Both are alive. Taylor is hypothermic but otherwise appears to be uninjured.”
“Thank God for at least one happy ending,” said the other paramedic.
That caught Austin’s attention. “Has something happened?”
“A helicopter carrying the fire chief, another firefighter, and a journalist was hit by a drone and crashed into the fire. No one has heard from them since. Another chopper is on the way to check that out. Some other folks were trapped at a kids’ camp in the box canyon when the fire came through. We were just there, looking for survivors, but saw no one—no survivors, no bodies, nada. You’re the first living people we’ve seen.”
Oh, fuck. No. No. No.
The Ops Room exploded into cheers.
Lexi stared in shock and amazement toward the radio, her body boneless with relief, her eyes blurring with happy tears.
Austin was alive. He was alive and safe—and Bear, too.
Oh, thank God! Thank you, God!
“Where are they taking him?” Lexi had to see him.
“Boulder Valley Hospital,” Ahearn answered.
Vicki hugged her tight. “I’m so happy for you, Lex. That’s the best news.”
Creed punched the air with his fist, laughing. “Leave it to Taylor. Who the fuck becomes hypothermic in a wildfire?”
“Oh, I think I know this one—a guy who jumps into a lake to avoid burning to death, maybe?” Megs rolled her eyes.
Lexi wanted to jump for joy, but she couldn’t. The rescue helicopter hadn’t found bodies at Camp Mato Sapa, but it hadn’t found survivors either. Chaska, Grandpa Belcourt, Gabe, those poor camp counselors, and that little boy were still missing.
And no one had heard from Eric or Brandon or the photojournalist, either.
Vicki, Naomi, Winona—they were still trapped in the hell of not knowing. How could she celebrate when so many people were still missing … or dead?
The door opened and a deputy Lexi didn’t know stepped inside. “I’m here on behalf of Sheriff Pella to make sure everyone who isn’t on duty as a Team member evacuates to safety now. That fire is burning up the back of Dead Man’s Hill. It’s going to be in town before you know it. I don’t see how they’re going to stop it now.”
His words sucked the light out of the room like someone blowing out a candle.
Lexi’s father stood, Kendra beside him. “That’s it. Come on, Lexi-girl. You, too, Vicki and Libby. Time to go.”
Libby got to her feet, shook her head. “I’m staying. Brandon is out there, and I want to be where I can get the news.”
Vicki wiped the tears from her cheeks and handed the keys to Lexi. “I’m staying, too.”
The deputy stood a little taller. “I’m afraid I can’t let you—”
Megs cut him off. “I’m in charge here, and I’ll handle it. Thanks.”
Muttering something to himself, the deputy turned and left the building.
“Promise me you’ll let me know as soon as you hear anything,” Lexi said. “Waiting like this … not knowing … I know how hard it is.”
Vicki hugged her. “Thanks. Now, go be with Austin.”
Chaska stood with Rossiter, hoping the helicopter would come back. The two of them had waved and shouted, but the pilot hadn’t seen them. It would have helped if they’d thought to bring the rope into the cave with them. They’d have been down on the ground by now. As it was, they’d forgotten about the rope, and fire had torched it.
“Why didn’t they see us?” Dean asked.
Chaska turned to him, tousled his hair. “They were looking at the ground. They didn’t think to look for us up here.”
Rossiter looked down at the wall of rock below them. “I should have downclimbed.”
Chaska shook his head. “Not worth the risk, man.”
Chaska knew that Rossiter was thinking of Kat and what she must be going through, believing him injured or dead. Chaska knew Naomi must be suffering, too. But it was one thing to risk a crazy-ass free solo when your other option was burning to death. It was another thing altogether when the only consequence of not climbing was hanging out in a cave for a while.
Rossiter looked over at Chaska. “They’ll send a rescue party to do a ground search.”
Both men knew it, but they didn’t say it. Next time, rescuers would come prepared to search for bodies amid the debris.
Old Man picked up the drum again from its place on the singed remains of the blanket. “Our ancestors sometimes took shelter in caves in the Black Hills. When they had to wait, they would pass the time by sharing stories.”
Chaska pretended to be annoyed for Dean’s sake, rolling his eyes. “Here we go.”
Dean laughed.
But in truth Chaska never tired of Old Man’s stories or the sound of his voice or the beat of the drum. He knew he didn’t have much time left with his grandfather. Sooner rather than later, Old Man would be making the journey, and the stories would be Chaska’s to tell.
But for today, they were still alive, still together. Today was a good day.
Chaska sat down beside Dean to listen.
Chapter 16
Naomi swallowed her fear and dread, willed herself to seem calm. “Here we are, kids. Remember to hold hands with your travel buddy. No one is to go wandering anywhere by themselves or leave the group with any other adult.”
She waited till the bus came to a stop, then walked down the center aisle. She’d spent most of the drive talking to counselors, trying to calm them down and focus them on the job at hand. They had thirty-nine confused and frightened children who needed them. They had no time for their own personal fear or pain.
That’s what she’d told them. But inside, some part of her wanted to cry, to curse, to scream. The man she loved was missing, maybe dead. He’d sent her away to save her and the baby. He’d been willing to sacrifice his life for theirs, and now she didn’t know if she would see him again.
Chaska.
“Let me just find out where they want us to go.” She stepped out of the bus, her big belly making her motions awkward, and glanced around at what seemed like chaos.
Soldiers from the Colorado National Guard directed traffic as cars, trucks, and horse trailers from Scarlet Springs poured into the fairgrounds. In the shade of a pavilion, two of the guys from Timberline Mudbugs played guitar while a few people danced.
A young woman in uniform spoke with a man hauling a small horse trailer. “Horse trailers that way.”
Naomi approached her. “I’m from Camp Mato Sapa. I’ve got forty children and a dozen or so adults who have nowhere to stay
for the next few days. They’re thirsty and hungry, and I have nothing to give them.”
“Can their parents pick them up?” the soldier asked.
“No, they can’t. They’re all from South Dakota. The fire burned through the camp. We left everything—clothes, food, first aid supplies. We almost didn’t make it.” She couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice, tears threatening to break through. “I have nowhere to take them between now and when they head home in four days.”
The soldier called someone on her radio, explained their situation. “The captain says to send you to the Exhibit Building. That’s the squarish building just over there. That’s where we’re putting people who’ve lost their homes. You let the kids off and then park the bus over here.”
“Thanks.” Naomi got back on the bus and told the driver where to go.
It was a short drive, but it gave Naomi’s fear for Chaska and the others time to rush back, despair rising like bile in the back of her throat. She drew in a few deep breaths, fought back her emotions.
These kids needed her. There would be time to fall apart later.
The bus pulled to a stop in front of the Exhibit Building, its front and back doors opening with a hiss.
“Hold hands, kids, and follow your counselors.” Naomi thanked the bus driver, then gathered the children and counselors together and walked inside.
The Exhibit Building was essentially a big box with a high ceiling and—thank God!—air conditioning. Uniformed Guard soldiers were busy carrying in cases of bottled water and other supplies, folded cots sitting in neat rows.
A man in olive drab walked up to her. “You’re the woman from the kids’ camp.”
“Yes.” Naomi held out a hand. “Naomi Belcourt.”
“Captain Peter Langeland.” He gestured around the room. “I thought you might be able to set up here. You’d have your own space, with a kitchen, bathrooms, a shower, and better security. If I had forty kids in a situation like this, I’d want a door I could lock.”
Naomi hadn’t even thought about that. “Thanks. This is perfect.”
“We’ll have cots or sleeping bags for them by tonight. In the meantime, there’s bottled water out in the main room. Do any of you need medical attention?”
“No. Thank you.” Naomi had to ask. “Do you know what’s going on up there? My husband, his grandfather, and several others stayed behind at the camp so that we could escape. There wasn’t room in the vehicles. The fire burned through, and I don’t know if they found a way out or whether...”
Captain Langeland’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have any contact with the Incident Command in Scarlet Springs.”
Naomi’s gaze fell to the concrete floor, her heart with it. “I understand.”
A hand came to rest on her arm. “If you’d like, I can pass this up the chain of command and see whether our Incident Command here can get in touch with the IC up at Scarlet Springs.”
Naomi’s head snapped up. “You could do that?”
“I can try.” He stepped back, glanced at his watch. “You just rest now and take care of yourself and these kids, and let us worry about the rest of it.”
His kindness broke through the wall she’d tried to build around her emotions, tears blurring her vision. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.” He reached for his hand mic, turned and walked away. “No, I said no llamas in the horse barns. They spook the horses. Zero llamas in the horse barns. Zero is that number that comes before one. There shouldn’t be a single llama in the horse barns.”
Naomi took a bathroom break—she seemed to need to pee all the time now, especially when the baby decided to dance on her bladder—then washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face. When there was no sign of tears, she walked back out to where the children and counselors stood together. “They’ve set this space apart just for us, kids. Isn’t that wonderful? There’s water over there. Let’s make a line. Everyone get a bottle of water, and then we’re going to have some circle time.”
They would talk through what had just happened, let the kids share their experiences, see how they were coping, and then—
“Naomi?”
Naomi turned to see Winona and Kat standing just inside the door, Kat’s kids around her, all of them looking shaken.
Winona hurried over to Naomi, hugged her. “I’m so glad you and the baby are okay.”
Words spilled out of Naomi. “One of the boys hid. I didn’t know. I thought we had them all. I did a headcount, but it must have been wrong. Or maybe he hid afterward, and I didn’t see him go. Chaska and Grandpa stayed behind with—”
“I heard.” Winona stepped back. “We need to pray and stay strong.”
Winona was right. Fear and tears wouldn’t change anything.
“I had to evacuate all of the animals,” Winona said.
“Shota, too?”
Win nodded.
“How did you manage that?”
“I had lots of help. I need to go check on him now, but I wanted to let you know that I’m here.” She took Naomi’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and turned to go.
Kat stepped forward. “I thought we’d stay with you for now—if you don’t mind.”
Naomi saw the same fear in Kat’s eyes that she was feeling.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
Joaquin raised his head, opened his eyes, coughed. As his panic subsided, the pieces came together—the quiet, dissipating heat, pain.
The fire. It had passed.
He was still alive—burned but alive.
Madre de Dios.
That was as close to hell as Joaquin had ever been or ever hoped to be. He didn’t know if he’d been in this shelter for a minute or an hour, but never in his life had he been more uncomfortable, more terrified—or more certain that he was going to die.
From beyond the walls of his shelter came a crinkling sound.
Someone coughed. “Ramir—”
More coughing.
“Ramirez!” It was Silver.
He and Hawke had saved Joaquin’s life. If not for their quick action and encouragement, Joaquin would never have made it through this.
Someone peeled back the edge of his shelter.
“You still with me?” Silver looked down at him, blisters on his face, his skin red. “You’re a bit toasted. How’s your breathing?”
Joaquin coughed, nodded.
Silver moved on to the pilot. “Come on out, buddy. We’re safe now.”
“Jesus!” The pilot’s voice held raw terror. “Jesus!”
Joaquin willed himself to let go of the straps that had enabled him to hold onto the shelter despite the terrible wind created by the fire. That’s when he noticed the blisters on his hands and wrists. He looked as bad as Silver.
Shit.
No wonder he hurt so much—his face, his lips, the backs of his legs, his neck, his ass. Every bit of exposed skin and every part of him that had touched the foil of the shelter, even through the clothes Hawke had given him, was burned.
He pushed the shelter away and sat up, gasping at the pain caused by even the slightest movement. His skin felt like it was still burning. “Fuck.”
“Chief, you still with us?”
Joaquin glanced over, saw that some of the silver foil had come loose from one side of Hawke’s shelter.
“Hawke?” Silver hurried over to him, peeled back the shelter. “Fuck.”
Hawke lay there face down, unconscious and unmoving.
Silver rolled him onto his side, checked his pulse.
Joaquin fought to stand, his body starting to shake. “Is he breathing?”
Silver bent low over Hawke, listened for breath. “Yes. He’s in shock, I think. His shelter had partial failure. He’s got some third-degree burns on his right leg.”
Hawke rolled onto his back, moaned, his face contorted with pain. He opened his eyes, looked up at Silver, frowned. �
�I hope to fuck you didn’t just give me mouth-to-mouth.”
Silver grinned. “No, chief.”
“Thank God.” Hawke coughed, fought to sit up. “Is everyone okay?”
Silver answered for them all. “We’re all a bit toasted, but we’re all alive.”
Hawke reached into the front pocket of his brush shirt. “I took these … out of the med kit. I hope to fuck they still work.”
He held out his hand to reveal seven little black tubes with yellow tips, the word Morphine Sulfate written in all caps on the side.
Silver took them. “You first, chief. You’re hurt worse than the rest of us.”
“I won’t … argue.”
Silver opened one, hit Hawke in the thigh.
Almost immediately, the lines of pain on Hawke’s face eased. He sank back to the ground. “Got a radio?”
Silver shook his head. “Sorry. I threw mine with my pack.”
Hawke grinned. “You, too?”
Silver clearly didn’t think this was funny. “Fuck.”
“I’ve got my cell phone.” Joaquin reached into his camera bag, the nylon straps of which had melted in places, and pulled it out. “It’s not working.”
“It probably got a little cooked. They’ll send a helicopter to search for survivors.” Silver met Joaquin’s gaze and then the pilot’s. He glanced down at the morphine pens and up again. “I’m not sure how long that will be.”
Joaquin understood.
Once they used the morphine, there wouldn’t be more until help arrived. Silver wanted to save it all for Hawke.
Mierda.
Joaquin had been looking forward to some relief, but if Silver could stand it, then so could Joaquin. Hawke needed it more than they did. The man’s lower right leg was badly burned. Without him, Joaquin might not be alive right now.
The pilot looked miserable. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep us in the air.”
“You did … one hell of a job … landing that wounded bird.” Hawke’s voice sounded a million miles away. “We’d all be dead … if not for you. What’s your name?”