“Okay, spill. Why’d you go to HR?” asked Angela.
Tara glanced at Tupa and Wolfman sitting close by. Working in proximity with eighteen people didn’t supply much privacy.
As she leaned in to tell Angela, Silva approached. “You wanted to talk to me.”
She nodded and motioned him out of earshot of the others. “Last night I was—"
“Aurora Crew, do you copy?” The IC cut in on Silva’s radio. He held up a finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and moved off to talk. When he finished, he shrugged at her. “Wind has picked up and we need to douse these hot spots. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Tara hid her frustration at Silva putting her off. It wasn’t like him, but then he’d been less friendly after she and Ryan had hooked up. She could wait until later. At least the job kept her from thinking too much about last night.
When Silva called a stop for the day, the crew formed into single file for the hike back to base camp. He ambled back to her. “Waters, can you go up front with Rego to set the pace? You’re our best pacesetter.”
“Can someone else do it today?” She was exhausted and didn’t want to be anywhere near Hudson.
“Come on, Waters. We’ll get to base camp faster if you’re pacesetting.”
She was too weary to argue, so she jogged to the front as the crew hiked an old ATV trail. Despite the hot fire, the ground was spongy, rutted, and unstable, with smoking dead snags.
As Tara hiked up a small trail incline, she heard screaming. “Help! Someone help me!”
She broke into a run. Sprinting uphill she rounded a corner. Hudson was flailing in an ash pit that had combusted. Flames licked at him and his pant legs were on fire.
Despite what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to burn to death. Tara leaned in and extended her arm over the hot flames. “Hurry Mike! Grab hold!”
“Get me out of here!” Hudson clawed at her and grasped her hand, his eyes wide with terror.
Tara positioned herself behind him and grabbed hold under his armpits, dragging him from the blazing ash pit that once sheltered tree roots. She laid him on his back and beat the flames on his pants with her gloves.
Rego rushed up as Hudson writhed on the ground, screaming. Silva knelt on the ground to remove Hudson’s charred boots. The laces had burned off.
Hudson writhed on the ground. “Oh God oh God, it hurts!”
The stench of burnt flesh hit Tara’s nostrils. She pushed her lunch back down.
Silva tore a first aid kit open with his teeth, then ripped apart what was left of Hudson’s pants. “Waters, radio for a medevac, stat. Hudson needs a hospital.” He dipped his head toward the radio on the ground.
Tara snatched it up and requested a helicopter from dispatch.
“Soak some gauze. Hurry,” ordered Silva, holding an open packet up to her.
Hudson pushed up on an elbow and pointed at Tara. “Don’t let her near me! That bitch tried to kill me!” He fell back, moaning.
What? Did he really say that? Tara’s chest tightened. “I did not! I pulled you out.”
“You shoved me in—you tried to kill me!” he spat through clenched teeth.
All heads swiveled in Tara’s direction.
She swallowed hard and her heart thumped as she backed up, stunned.
Silva shot her a look as he gave first aid to Hudson. Tupa and Rego helped.
Angela rested a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “He’s in shock, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Yes, he does,” muttered Tara.
A cruel, chilling realization washed over her. He accused her, despite her having helped him. Who does that? She remembered an abnormal psych class in college, about sociopaths and psychopaths. This guy sure fit the bill. A shiver shot up her spine.
Tupa used his pocketknife to open gauze packs. He knelt to help Silva, who was snapping on nitrile gloves. The rest of the crew stood watching.
“Someone, pour water on this.” Silva held out gauze. Rego rushed and splashed it with canteen water. Silva applied the wet gauze to Hudson’s stinking mass of black, pink, and red flesh.
Hudson stopped screaming.
“He’s going into shock,” gritted Silva. “Rego, water.”
Tara looked on with a different kind of shock.
Rego saturated more gauze and Silva continued placing it on Hudson’s legs. “Get him some Tylenol or whatever we have,” Silva directed. “We need to prepare him for an air evac.”
Liz pawed through the box and retrieved a packet. She ripped it open and snapped her finger at Rego. “Canteen.”
Rego gave his canteen to Liz and she knelt next to Silva. “Hudson, can you hear me? Take these and a swig of water.”
Hudson’s eyes dulled as he slipped into shock.
Liz knelt and supported his head. She placed tablets on his tongue and held a canteen to his lips. “Drink this and swallow, Mike,” she ordered.
Hudson choked back pills and water, then his head fell back as he lost consciousness. Liz took a jacket out of her pack, rolled it up and placed it under his head.
Silva glanced at Rego. “How far is the helo?”
Rego keyed the radio. “Twelve Tango Charlie, what’s your ETA?”
Whop-whop rotor noise on the radio. “Five minutes. When you hear us, guide us in.”
“Copy,” said Rego.
“Liz, please keep an eye on Hudson.” Silva rose and pulled Tara aside. “Why would he say you pushed him?”
“That’s why I’ve been trying to talk to you. But in confidence.” Her head spun with the craziness of the situation. Who will believe her now?
Silva stared at her with sincere concern. “All right, later. Got my hands full right now.”
Tara realized she had screwed up royally. She should have told Silva right away what happened last night. And she shouldn’t have told Hudson she would report him. The crafty little dickhead had beat her to the punch with his own accusation.
“Anyone see what happened?” Silva called out to the crew.
No one spoke, except Rego. “I ran up and he was lying on his back on the trail. Waters was beating flames on his
