Edge of the Heat (Westwood Harbor Corruption) (15 page)

She kept going.

She needed to stop and check her compass, but she just didn't have the time. She hoped they weren't too far off course. The fire was falling away little by little, but it was still close enough that a small gust of wind could whirl it around them in an instant. Her blood pounded in her ears.

She tried to push harder but she was
coming up on the edge of the reserves of her strength. Pretty soon, she'd be going on nothing but willpower.

She heard a crack behind her. Gunshot? No, a tree falling. She peeked back and saw it. A monster tree, at least 6 feet around, and it was falling
their way. Panic shot through her chest, giving her energy. She dug in and pushed harder. It fell against another tree and smashed all the branches down one side of that tree as it fell. Emma heard every branch pop one after another. She hoped that second tree was solid and not going to fall too. This was an old forest and there hadn't been a fire up here for decades. 

She heard a wild creaking. Oh man that second tree was going too. If it came her way she was in trouble. She heard the creaks and groans an
d a final loud ripping sound as it's roots ripped out of the ground. She pushed as hard and as fast as she could, ducking her head.

The tree crashed to the ground three feet to her right and one of the branches caught her in the back, forcing a startled s
hriek from her throat and pinning her to the ground. As she fell she thought
I'm Sorry
to the man she was trying to help. Her head hit the ground hard. The forest went dark.

Craig drove up the winding mountain road to the Crystal Creek Wildfire watching the stars through his windshield. There were so many to see up here. He was late, coming in at least an hour behind most of the crew, but he had only just gotten this assignment. Apparently 4 firefighters had been hurt as soon as they got there tonight and had to be evac-ed out and more bodies were needed. This wasn't the kind of job Hawk wanted him doing, but Craig was glad to be assigned. He really enjoyed firefighting. Maybe someday he'd quit the FBI and be a firefighter for real. He didn't want to still be working dangerous undercover jobs when he had kids.

The thought of kids made him think of Emma and her letter. He still hadn't called her. He wanted to but his brain was holding him back. Some hurt, teenage, angsty part of him was still
mad that she had rejected him and asked out his friend in front of him.
Quit being a baby. She explained that decision in her letter. Everyone makes mistakes,
he chastised himself. Yeah, he was making a big one right now by ignoring her. She was simply the most amazing woman he'd ever met, and he was playing some stupid game with her.

He knew he was going to need to make a once and for all decision soon, and either get over this completely, or go the other way and reject her. The thought of telling her he
didn't want to see her anymore made his mouth dry and his stomach hurt. But still his brain wouldn't let him swallow his pride and fully forgive her. He sighed. God he was an idiot.

Thank God Frankie had saved him from killing Norman back at the bay. If h
e had done what he wanted to do to Norman, he'd be in jail right now, his cover would be blown, Hawk's cover would probably be blown, and they would have had to start back at square one. God but Norman was just the worst kind of man - scratch that. Norman wasn't a man, he was a weasel. Craig still remembered his weasel face, pinched and angry saying "next time your friends won't be around to save your ass," before he got in his car and sped off.

Craig's thoughts were pulled back to the here and now by a bl
ast of hot air dumping in through the truck window. Now the air felt 15 degrees hotter in an instant. He sniffed and looked around. The smoke smell was stronger here, and he could see a glow off to the south. It looked like the fire was only 15 feet away in the woods. Time to get serious about the job at hand so he didn't get hurt. He'd give his brain 1 more day to sleep on the Emma situation and then he was making some hard and fast decisions. She deserved that much.

He drove in silence, trying to remember
what he'd been taught in training about fighting wildfires. Ahead, the swirling lights of a fire vehicle made him think he had made it to the scene. But it was too soon. What the heck?

As he came across the vehicle, it was a tanker, empty, off, and with l
ights flashing, just sitting in the road. He parked his truck behind it, got out and called "Hello? Anybody here?"

How strange. He got on the radio in his truck and tried to call the scene commander but got no answer. He heard the radio in the tanker crack
le. He walked over to the tanker. The mic was on the drivers seat and dispatch was calling. "Firefighter 238, Firefighter 238, answer please." The voice was strained with worry.

A bolt of worry shot through Craig, making his head hurt. That was Emma's badg
e number! He grabbed the mic. "This is Firefighter 465, I am at an abandoned tanker truck in the middle of the road. What is going on?"

"Firefighter 465, FF 238 heard screaming from the woods almost 30 minutes ago at that location, on the south side of the
road. She hasn't answered since. We don't know where she is. No one has been able to break away from the wildfire scene yet to check on her."

Craig's stomach lurched and the hand holding the mic shook. "I'm going in Central, send us some backup. I have a
handheld let me test it."

He tried his handheld radio. "Central FF 465 10-18" Nothing. He tried again.

"You are scratchy and faint, but I can hear you 465," came the reply, but Craig could only hear it from the truck, not from his handheld. Oh well, it would have to do. He as going in no matter what. He started off at a jog towards the south, but stopped short. As an afterthought he ran back to his small truck and rummaged around under the seat till he found the flare gun. Just in case.

He ran into the wo
ods at a breakneck speed, not even feeling the branches smacking him in the face. Every step brought hotter air, like he was running into a blast furnace? Emma was in here? How could she survive in this? He spotted orange tape around a tree. His heart surged with admiration for her; she was always so prepared and so careful. His throat clenched at the thought of his sweet Emma pausing long enough to wrap tape around this tree.
Emma please, just be OK. I forgive you. Please forgive me for being such a jerk. Please be OK. I need you. I'm so sorry.

Just like that, every hurt feeling he had felt, every bad thought that had flashed through his mind was gone, burnt up like fire in his worry and panic. He would do anything to see her OK again. When he found her he
would fall on his knees and beg
her
forgiveness.
Just please God let her be OK.

In a flash he understood everything. He knew how desperation had made her do something outside of her character and that she didn't really mean to do it. She thought it was th
e way to her future happiness. He knew right now that she was the way to his future happiness. He prayed inside his head that he would get a chance to tell her.

He ran faster.

The forest around him was no longer green, everything was orange and hot, like an oven. He had run right into the fire without even realizing it. The hot air tore at his throat. He pulled up short and looked around. 4 feet ahead to his left was tape around a tree, burning brightly. Emma's tape.

He squeezed his eyes shut in denial. Op
ened them again. Nothing had changed. The skin on his face felt and smelled like it was burning. He walked backwards 20 feet, just out of this part of the fire to find some cooler ground. He dug down in the dirt and smeared it on his face and hair, hoping to protect them from the fire.

He looked at the fire in front of him again and shook his head. No. She couldn't survive in that. Unless she had dug a hole? Or deployed her shelter? His mind grasped at straws - she had to be alive - had to!

Think damnit think!
Should he go in? He'd likely burn up within 50 feet. He should be turning around and running for the road right now.

He had his fire shelter. He could wrap it around him and just run. No, he'd run out of air. He could try to go around the fire to the
other side. Maybe she was holed up somewhere and needed help.

He heard something to his left. A cracking, straining, ripping sound. A tree falling. More cracking. A shriek. A woman's scream, then cut off abruptly. His head jerked around, his ears straining
. That had to be Emma!

He took off at a run, flanking the front edge of the fire. His mind filled only with
the need to get to her before the fire did.

His legs pumped relentlessly. He willed his lungs to use the air and his throat not to cough. He hurdle
d downed trees like they were lincoln logs.

There, he saw the big tree that had just fallen. He ran to it and jumped on top of it, straining to see in the meager light. He looked around in a 360 but saw nothing. He pulled out his flashlight and walked alon
g the trunk of the tree, sweeping first one side and then the other.

A flash of orange caught his eye. Her coat! His heart leaped in his chest. She was so still, laying on the ground. "Emma!"

He ran to her, pushing through sticks and branches. She was caught under the branches from the tree that had fallen, her face to the ground. There was a man laying right behind her on his back. A hunter from the looks of it, with a bandaged leg. With a might yank and a roar ripping from his mouth he broke the branches from the tree that were covering the two people and tossed them to the side. He had them free.

He slipped off his gloves and checked the hunter's pulse first, scared to check Emma's. Thready, barely there. This man was in trouble. Emma had him on some sor
t of a sled and had been pulling him to the road.

"Central, FF 465, send me a chopper. I need medical evac," he yelled into his radio.

"Oh honey, you gotta be OK," he whispered, putting his fingers to her throat. Strong and regular, her pulse spoke to him, told him she was going to live, if he could just get her out of here. "Oh God," he choked, a sob building in his chest.

"Emma honey, you hold on, my brave warrior, I am gonna get you out of here."

Craig looked backwards at the fire behind them. It was closing in. They were in an oven and within a few minutes, they would be engulfed in flames. He had to get these two people out of here and fast. He shouted into the radio again "Central, FF 465, I need two choppers, send them to the tanker 3 miles west of the scene on Crystal Creek Road. I can't hear you on my radio but get those birds in the air! I have two patients here, one certainly critical, the other possibly critical.

Craig looked around again and knew what he had to do. There was no choice. He said a
little prayer for Emma's spine and prayed she would be OK when he moved her.

Then he rolled her over. She was unconscious, her eyes and mouth slack. Her forehead and left eye were purple and swollen where they had hit a rock partially buried in the dirt. H
is heart rolled over at the thought of his lovely Emma hurt, unconscious, in pain.

He hoisted her into a sitting position and picked her up under arms, gently placing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He stepped inside the sled she had made and l
ifted the handle, bracing it against his midsection so he could steady her with both hands and not jostle her too much.

He pushed forward, feeling the weight of the sled behind him. Admiration filled him at what she had made, and what she had done. This w
oman was amazing. He wanted her to love him, he wanted her to be all his.

He pushed them out of there, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He had to make it to the road. There they would be safe. Even if the fire reached the road and jumped the road, they
could hole up in the tanker if they had to.

Craig pushed and prayed and when he reached the road he thought his desperate mind was playing tricks on him at first. No, there it was. He said a little prayer of thanks and pulled them up the embankment.

He could hear the chopper coming up the mountain. Relief flooded him. He laid Emma down as gently as he could on the asphalt and dropped the sled. He grabbed the flare gun from his pocket and shot a flare straight up. That should help.

He knelt next to Emma and
checked her pulse again. Still there. Still strong. He went to the man on the sled, he still had a pulse too, but his face was ashen. He had to go first. As much as he would have liked to have gotten Emma on the first bird, he knew the right thing to do was send this man first.

The helicopter came into view. Craig ran to the truck and got more flares, marking a landing pad, then he ran back to his patients to protect them from the buffeting winds as the helicopter set down. The fire had reached the embankm
ent, and the hot winds carried ashes and burning sticks.

The medic jumped out with a board before the bird was all the way on the ground and ran over to him. Craig pointed to the man. "He's got to go" he tried to yell, but only a small squeak came out. His
throat was raw from breathing the scorching air and ashes.

The medic put the board on the ground next to the hunter and they transferred him onto it, strapping him down. Craig didn't want to leave Emma but he had to, to help the medic get the man on board
. They carried him swiftly, bending to get safely under the blades.

Craig turned around and ran back as the helicopter lifted off. Emma! He didn't see her right away. The ground where he had left her was empty. Panic ripped through him again, blacking his
vision.

He saw her, by the truck, she was standing, but bent over and holding her head.

He ran to her, joy flooding him. She was standing! She was OK!

"Emma!" he tried to shout, but his voice sounded small and not his, and didn't seem to carry to her. She
turned to him anyway, dropping her hand, his name forming on her lips in surprise.