Tara squinted at her wristwatch. It was 6 a.m. She sprung from her bed along with Liz and Angela. The three women donned yellows, pants, and boots, readied their fire packs, and filled canteens with water.
“Aurora Crew, let’s roll!” yelled Silva. “Squad bosses, follow me.”
When they reached the parking lot, he tossed keys at Tara, Liz, and Payson. “Squad bosses: Take a truck engine and your groups to our staging area. Maintain radio contact.”
Tara hated eating dust, so kept her window rolled up on the gravel road to the fire. She offered Bateman her radio and he turned up the volume to follow fire activity.
A smoke column rose about six miles away and a helicopter circled it. As they closed in on the fire, Tara noted it burning a dense stand of Sitka and white spruce. The three squad vehicles pulled into a clearing and everyone jumped out.
The truck thermometer read ninety degrees, surprisingly hot for this early in the morning. Tara and the others grabbed their gear while Silva spread the topo map on the hood of his truck and gave the whole crew a quick briefing of their direct attack plan.
“Payson, take your squad to the right flank,” instructed Silva. “Waters, your squad will dig fireline on the left flank. Skowran, yours will douse the tail with piss-pumps. Safety first. Know your escape routes. Stay in the black.”
Silva pointed east. “I’ll be lookout on that rise. Keep each other informed. Let’s go, girls and boys.”
Aurora Crew scattered to their three squad positions.
“Come on, guys, you heard him. Left flank.” Tara grabbed the chainsaw and lowered her goggles over her eyes.
Tupa helped her into the straps that held the water bladder to her upper back. Her squad gathered their firefighting equipment.
“Know your escape route, gentlemen.” Tara led off, hiking a steady clip. The others fell in single file behind her.
“Not much wind, thankfully,” said Tara over her shoulder to Tupa, her boots crunching tinder-dry ground. Smelling smoke made her adrenalin pump.
“Yep, one less thing,” he responded.
Tara had made sure her squad knew their jobs from all their drill practice. They set to work like a well-oiled machine, taking turns sawing and clearing to create a fireline. It took most of the day to get a containment line around most of the fire. By nightfall, the weather brought cooler air, making things easier.
A truck pulled up with water and food. Tara and her squad gobbled fresh sandwiches in between finishing digging the fireline. Around midnight, all three squads had contained the fire. A village crew from Circle arrived to do mop-up.
“Good job, Aurora. Let’s demobe this puppy,” Silva called out. “Load up the tools, Circle Crew is mopping up.”
Tupa fist-bumped Tara. “Our squad name should be Afi Slayers—fire slayers.”
“Afi Slayers. I like it.” Tara grinned at him.
Tara and her newly dubbed Afi Slayers squad drove back in the twilight. Ryan’s safety tip played in her head—keep headlights on during this time of day. She clicked them on, Ryan heavy on her mind. She missed his calm voice and easy manner and wished she could talk to him.
He’d be proud of Aurora Crew for successfully containing their first fire. Too bad he wasn’t around to celebrate their first success. Someone would no doubt tell him about it. Fire was a small world.
As she pulled into the parking lot, radio chatter picked up. Overnight lightning strikes had blown up the Interior with fire starts. A Twin Otter pilot’s voice squawked. “Dispatch, got a load of jumpers heading to Tanana Zone. Twelve souls on board.”
Static, then dispatch response. “Copy that, two-seven-zero.”
Were Ryan and Gunnar onboard? They must be if they were first on the jump list. A twinge tweaked her chest, with the sudden urge to tell him she was sorry.
Please don’t let anything happen to Ryan. I want the chance to make it right with him.
The next three weeks brought hot temperatures and more fire to Alaska’s Interior. Chinook’s thermometer hit the 90s. Aurora Crew responded to several road-access fires and effectively contained them all. Their days were action-packed, and the crew had grown into a cohesive team.
At breakfast on the 4th of July, the day before they were scheduled to leave Chinook, Silva announced the day’s assignments. “Unless we get a fire call, we’ll wash the fire vehicles and clean up the fire station equipment. This afternoon we’ll participate in Chinook’s July 4th celebration. I know it’s a holiday, but you’re still expected to help. You’ll get your holiday pay. Please cooperate and do whatever you’re asked.”
Silva studied his clipboard. “Waters, Divina, and Skowran, the Colorado fire management officer has requested your presence in the truck parking lot at 1 p.m.”
“Why?” asked Tara.
“To help with the July 4th parade. Toss candy to the kids.” Silva shot her his signature smile, then motioned to the crew. “The rest of Aurora, come with me. Bing Pickel has things for us to do to get ready for the parade, which will last all of five minutes.”
After lunch, Tara, Angela, and Liz sauntered out to the parking lot. A fire engine was positioned behind two pickups, already decorated with red, white, and blue balloons and crepe paper.
An older guy with snow-white hair and mustache stood in the bed of one truck. He reminded Tara of a skinny Colonel Sanders, except he appeared fit as any firefighter. He jumped from the tailgate as if sticking a gymnastics vault at a perfect ten.
“Hello ladies. I’m Samuels, from the Grand Mesa National Forest in Colorado. I’m up here helping out. I have a job for you.” He grinned and tossed Smokey the Bear and Woodsy Owl costumes on the ground.
“Put these on.”
The women exchanged startled looks. Tara was first to speak. “Excuse me, but it’s ninety-eight degrees. It’s too hot for these suits.” She pointed to a round thermometer with a smiling chipmunk on its face, tacked onto a wall of the main
