Rescued By The Firefighter. Catherine Lanigan
simply brushed them off, not feeling a thing.
Everything about her had turned to ice, except her heart. It was beating through her chest as if it knew she was going to die this night, and had to beat its last moments as hard and powerfully as it could to make up for all the years she would lose.
Eli’s face was covered in tears and snot when she finally reached him. She scooped him into her arms and crushed his face into the crook of her neck. “I’ve got you now,” she said comfortingly. “Nothing bad will happen to you.”
“You promise?” His voice was muffled as he burrowed his head into her throat.
“I do.”
“How can you promise? We’re both going to die.”
“No, we won’t,” she said sternly. “Didn’t you just see me jump?”
“Huh?”
“I was state champion in high hurdles for my girls’ team in high school.”
He hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry for this.”
“It’s not your fault, Eli,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have been out here. That’s why we tell you to stay in your cabins at night. The forest can be dangerous.”
He lifted his face from the shelter of her neck. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
She looked around. “The fire is getting stronger. You hang on to me and I’ll get us back.”
“I can walk,” he protested.
“No. And I mean it. You stay with me. Understand?” She had him in her arms. There was no way she would let him go. For this moment, she felt in control, though her brain told her that she had just done about the most unthinkable act of her life.
The heat of the flames had increased, and perhaps she was allowing her senses to register something beyond her fears for Eli. She finally felt the burns on her arms, but she willed away the pain. She lifted her foot to start back to the camp when a second tree blew up.
This time she was the one to jump. She rocked back on her heels. Cinders filled the air. Branches flew overhead and landed behind her. When the pieces hit the ground, the earth shook beneath her feet like an earthquake.
Eli screamed. The sound of his terror clanged in her head like discordant and mournful bells.
She realized that she didn’t hear the sirens any longer. Had the trucks arrived? Or had it been her imagination all along that they were on their way? Had she imagined the dispatcher’s words? What other mistakes had she made in this nightmare? Would she be Eli’s hero or the cause of his death?
From somewhere, she found a thread of solid strength that bolted up her spine and empowered her arms. She pulled Eli close to her chest. “We’re going to make a run for it,” she said decisively.
“We can’t leave...”
“What? Why?”
“We have to find Chris.”
RAND NELSON PULLED his fire engine to a stop in front of the camp and stared over the steering wheel in disbelief at what he was seeing: a woman running toward the fire.
“No way in...”
He jumped out the driver’s door, his heavy leather-booted feet hitting the ground with a thud. He grabbed his thermoplastic helmet off the console, then his goggles and pigskin gloves.
The massive Indian Lake fire engine pulled up behind him, Captain Bolton quickly exiting the truck and assessing the situation.
Bolton quickly dispensed orders to the team, though every man knew their tasks. Extensive, in-depth training and experience had taught the Indian Lake crew how to manage and overpower forest fires big and small.
“Was that a woman? Running into the fire?” Rand asked Captain Bolton.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Where?” Captain Bolton spun around to follow Rand’s extended arm as he pointed into the worst section of burning trees and brush.
“That blonde woman. Right there.” Rand put on his goggles. “I’m going in after her.”
Captain Bolton waved Rand on. Then he quickly went to the large hose lays on the wildland fire engine.
Rand had seen some crazy, reckless acts in his years as a smoke jumper in California, then as a trainer in Boise, Idaho, and now, as a part-time firefighter at Indian Lake Engine #2, but this was a first. He’d heard about people who went back into burning houses to save a family member or a pet. But he’d never seen anyone run into a forest fire.
And why?
Was there someone else out there? Even if there was, the long-haired blonde should have left the rescue to the professionals. She wasn’t wearing a Nomex suit like he was. Or a helmet, boots and gloves. Didn’t she know that the heat alone could boil her skin? Set her hair on fire? And why wouldn’t she at least tie that long hair up?
Should he use the hose to try and contain the fire around the woman? Their truck could pump five hundred gallons of water on the flames. As long as the wind didn’t change direction, they’d be able to keep the fire to the forest, and the kids and the camp property would be safe. Then the situation would be safer for both him and the woman.
“Sir! Sir!” He heard a female voice behind him. Then a tug on his arm.
A young woman with chin-length black hair pointed to the fire. “She’s in there. She went after him. You have to help her!”
“Who is she?”
“Beatrice Wilcox. My boss. She owns the camp.” The woman struggled for breath, coughing on the rising smoke. “I’m Maisie. A counselor. We evacuated the children. She and I are the only ones left. Except for Eli and Chris—they’re missing.”
“Missing?” His jaw dropped as he looked back at the fire. “How old?”
“Eli is six. Chris just turned ten. They’re brothers. Beatrice thought she spotted Eli. But now I can’t see her.” Maisie’s eyes filled with tears. She put her palms to her cheeks. “She’s not like this. Daredevil things are not her deal, you know?” Her eyes shot back to his face. “Please, sir. Help her. She’s in there...somewhere.”
He put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “I’ll find her. And the kids.”
Maisie held her breath and nodded.
The familiar sweetness of adrenaline shot through his body as he entered the fire. He was on high alert. The perimeter of the fire was already losing energy as it neared the road. However, the farther he went into the forest, the mightier the flames.
An explosion shook the air and the ground as Rand stepped over a burning log. He lifted his head to see a flaming branch head straight for him. Backing out of the path of the falling log, he reached into the tool belt around his waist and grabbed his hatchet, ready to attack any errant shrapnel that often erupted from dry branches as they crashed to the ground.
Only inches from his boot, the log landed with a thud, the flames smothering themselves on the ground.
He stepped over the log and scanned the area.
Then he saw her.
Remarkably, she was standing in a tiny space that was untouched by the fire, though flames created a curtain on either side of her. She held a child close to her chest, the burning forest giving them a crimson outline. She almost didn’t look real. The heat from the fire lifted her hair from her shoulders. He could almost feel her eyes on him, as if they had a force of their own, drawing him in. Terror was powerful like that. The little boy was crying as he clutched Beatrice’s neck. “Chris!” she called.