“Yeah.” Rego jerked his head at the charred slope. “You’d better get your ass down there. Tara would be here if she weren’t in serious trouble.”
Tara’s squad approached, led by Tupa. “O’Connor, me and Afi Slayers will help search.” He gestured at the guys who’d gathered around them.
“I need everyone to stay here. I don’t want people spread out in case this fire changes its mind.” Ryan scrutinized the smoking, devastated slope he was about to traverse. Some stumps were still burning. He took off sprinting along the ridge.
“Ryno, wait!” Gunnar caught up to him. “I should go with you. You’ll need me in case—when you find them. You can’t get both out by yourself.”
He stared hard at his jump partner. “Good point. Put Rego in charge. Silva’s in no condition to coordinate crew retrieval.”
Gunnar went back to Rego, briefed him, and gave him his radio and extra batteries.
Ryan resumed jogging along the ridge and pulled out his radio. “Seven four Juliet, Nick Rego is heading up crew retrieval. Gunnar’s coming with me.”
“Got it,” replied Melbourne, Juliet’s rotors sounding in the background.
Silva’s declaration of love for Tara knocked Ryan back. He knew Silva had tried to win her affection, but he didn’t expect him to be in love with her. But right now, Ryan cared more about finding Tara than worrying about which of them had won her heart.
He wasted no time plunging downhill into the apocalyptic terrain. Nothing but smoking black interspersed with gray and still-burning snags. The fire storm had moved on, leaving devastation in its wake.
As he tore down the scorched slope at breakneck speed, Ryan slapped his first aid kit, making sure he’d remembered to strap it to his waist. He’d also strapped two water canteens to his other side. He charged through the black, Gunnar working to keep up, ash and smoke kicking up behind them.
This afternoon when lifting off from Fort Wainwright, the furthest thing from Ryan’s mind was that he’d be searching for Tara. The premonition and unease he’d had since leaving her bed had been about her, not Travis McGuire’s death.
Ryan’s worst fear had always been that something terrible would happen to Tara on a fire. And he now knew why.
He loved her.
Smoke spiraled up and around still-standing trees, all in danger of toppling to the ground without warning. The mountain was so steep he slid on his ass in places, skidding in ash and soot. He put his neckerchief over his nose and mouth.
Radio static. “O’Connor, this is Max. Do you copy?”
He lifted his radio and keyed it. “Copy. Go ahead.”
“Heard you talking to Juliet. I’m the one who notified AFS to assist the crew in trouble.”
“Yeah, Aurora Crew. What can you tell me?”
“When I made the drops, I saw them in the path of the runaway head, so dropped two loads to buy them time to get out. Didn’t understand what they were doing there.”
“Uh-huh.” He dug his boot heels into ash mixed with soil, rapidly traversing around still-burning stumps.
“Another thing. On final for a third drop, I saw a deployed shelter, so dropped mud on it.”
“Where?”
“Halfway up from Deadman’s Ravine, in a rocky area.”
Ryan paused to peer downslope, spotting the burned-out, smoking ravine. “One shelter or two?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“One. Didn’t see a second.”
A bomb hit his chest. Fuck.
Radio silence as this sunk in. Gunnar cast an uneasy glance at him as they thundered down the slope, sixty feet apart.
“Okay Max, thanks.”
Ryan yelled at Gunnar. “We need to split up. They’re somewhere along here.” He pointed across the ruin.
“Gave Rego my radio. I’ll whistle if I see anything.” Gunnar split off, side-hilling the slope.
Whirring rotors. Melbourne must have heard Max’s transmission and zeroed in on the location. “O’Connor, seven four Juliet. I’ve ordered another helo to help transport crew. Thought I’d give you a hand first.”
“Seven four Juliet, thanks for the help.” Ryan waved up at his friend.
“I’ll fly a back-and-forth grid to see if I can locate the shelters.”
“Copy that, Juliet. O’Connor clear.” Ryan would make a point to thank Mel. Time was of the essence.
“Come on, Melbourne, find them,” muttered Ryan. Alive.
As if in response, Mel’s voice came on the radio. “O’Connor.”
“Go ahead.”
“I see one shelter. Did you say there were two missing firefighters?”
“Yes.”
“Only one shelter. In a stony area, next to a rock face.”
Ryan’s heart jumped. One shelter, one person. Where was the other? Dread made a ruthless assault on his chest. He skidded to a halt. Keyed his radio but couldn’t speak, fixated on the barren black.
Endless trails of smoke drifted where the breeze slanted them. A crackle and snap of splintering wood, then a whump behind him. A burned-out tree succumbed to gravity. Unphased, he didn’t look back.
Glancing down, he spotted what used to be a Pulaski, buried in ash, it’s handle burned off. He bent to pick up the hot metal with his gloved hand. Gritting his teeth, he emitted a primitive sound and hurled it as far as he could. He watched it spin through the air and fall back to the ashes.
One shelter. Fuck.
Mel’s voice. “O’Connor, you copy?”
He swallowed hard, dreading the inevitable. “Yeah. Lead me in.”
“Give me a mirror signal. I’ll guide you to the site.”
“Okay.” Ryan pulled his signal mirror from his day pack and flashed it at the circling helo.
“I see you. You’re not far. Sidehill east, then south to the rocky area. You’ll see it.”
“Any signs of life?” Ryan wasn’t sure he had the courage to face who—or what he may find. He jammed the mirror back in his pack.
“Negative. Leaving you to it. I’ll standby.” Mel circled in a wide berth above the area.
“Thanks, Juliet, clear.” Ryan scrambled downhill as fast as his feet could carry him. Gray shale led to the outcrop Mel had spotted. Sliding to a stop, he spotted the rocky ledge through gutted trees. Trepidation prickled at him. He yanked off his glove and put two fingers in his
