“Travis, I’m sorry your chutes didn’t open.”
Travis cradled her face. “And I’m sorry for what I did to you. You didn’t deserve it. But you can’t stay here. Go back to O’Connor. He’s the one who loves you. Go.” Travis released her and she fell backward, plummeting in free fall. The rainbow faded and the fireweed flew from her hand. She’d lost everyone—Dad, Travis, Angela…and now Ryan. She’d never see him again.
She had lost everything.
Tara coughed. Where am I? Voices. “She’s breathing…load her on Juliet…get Angela onboard…”
She couldn’t open her eyes. A heaviness pushed down on her. Who is it? Who’s there?
A familiar, deep voice. “Tara, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?” Someone had hold of her.
She forced a lid open, but her sight blurred. She blinked to focus on the love of her life.
The sky lived in his eyes.
“Ryan,” she whispered, closing her eyes to dream about the one she’d come back for.
Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he prayed. But he was sure doing it now. He must keep Tara alive. Every minute he checked her pulse and breath. Pulse still faint and shallow, quick breaths. Every so often he whispered in her ear to see if she’d respond.
No one spoke during the fast flight to Fairbanks. Silva and Angela’s coughs were the only human sounds. All eyes were on Ryan and Tara.
He glanced at Angela, who put her fingertips to her lips and held them out to him. He nodded thanks and held tight to the woman he loved and wasn’t willing to live without.
Mel landed Juliet on the helipad in back of the main hospital building. Ryan peered out the window. Medical staff waited with gurneys. Everyone unbuckled, waiting for Mel to shut down the helo.
When the rotors slowed, Gunnar swung the door open. Ryan carefully laid Tara’s head down and jumped out, waving in medical staff. “We have several injured firefighters, but this first one needs immediate attention. I’m an EMT. I’ll fill you in.”
Three paramedics hefted Tara onto a gurney and Ryan stepped briskly alongside it as they wheeled her to the door. She was still unconscious.
Ryan briefed the hospital staff what he’d done to revive her. “She has burns on her back side and she inhaled a shitload of smoke.” He reached out to brush tendrils from Tara’s face, noting much of her long hair had burned off.
Two nurses followed, wheeling Angela on a gurney with Gunnar walking alongside. Two more paramedics loaded Silva into a wheelchair and a nurse pushed him behind the gurneys.
Tara’s Nomex had partially burned away, but Angela’s was intact because Tara had shielded Angela’s body with her own. The nurses and paramedics listened with wide eyes as Ryan explained how both women had survived a burnover in a fire shelter. He stayed alongside Tara as they rolled her inside the emergency room.
A staff member held up a hand. “You must wait in the lobby, sir.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He watched Tara disappear behind double doors. Worry and exhaustion mashed his gut.
Gunnar came up behind him. “Come on, bro, take a load off.” He gestured to a row of chairs against a wall.
Ryan shuffled over and sank into a chair. Elbows on knees, he rested his head in his hands. Then it hit him like a toppling tree. He could have lost her. What would he have done if he couldn’t have revived her?
“You done good, fly-boy.” Gunnar grinned. “Those two are damn lucky. Don’t think you and me could survive in one shelter. You’re too much of a pussy. You’d scream to get out.”
“Thanks, Norske.” Ryan raised his weary head. “But I’d rather chew off my arm than cuddle your limp dick in a fire shelter.” He leaned his head back on the wall and rolled it to the side, looking out the windows. It was getting darker now that the subarctic summer was half over.
A nurse pushed Silva’s wheelchair near the double doors to the ER and stepped away to the main desk. Silva sat with an inhaler, waiting to go inside.
Ryan pushed from his seat and approached him. “Hey Jon, how are you doing?”
Silva looked up at him. “You look how I feel. Like recycled bear shit,” he croaked. “Any word on Tara?”
“Not yet. Glad you’re okay.” He squatted next to the wheelchair. “Got to ask you, Jon. What the hell was Aurora Crew doing in front of a fucking blow-up?” He’d never known Silva to screw up like this.
Silva stared at his lap. “Somehow the lat and longs got screwed up. Not sure whether it was ICC’s end or my end.” He took a draw from his inhaler, paused, then blew out air, shaking his head. “I couldn’t breathe, so lost focus on what I was doing.”
Ryan waited. He didn’t want to press, but he had to write the incident report for Dave Doss. He needed to know how trained, experienced firefighters wound up in such a perilous situation.
“We contained the left flank near the Richardson Highway, then hiked across the black to the right flank. There are five finger ridges on that fucking mountain. The map and the GPS tracker didn’t match and we wound up on the wrong ridge. When my asthma kicked in, I told Tara to take charge. She led Aurora Crew out of the ravine.”
Ryan pulled the melted, black piece of plastic from his pocket. “You mean this GPS?”
Silva gawked at it. “Tara had that. How did you get it?”
“Found it while looking for her.” Ryan sighed and shook his head. “Jon, how the fuck did you pass the pulmonary function test with asthma?” Ryan had tested along with everyone else before fire season. He knew Silva wouldn’t have been rehired with an asthmatic condition.
“An ex-girlfriend at the clinic signed off on my paperwork.” He gave Ryan a sheepish look. “I guess I’ll
