Firestorm

Chapter Ten

Mallory strode into the main staging area in the central room of the standby shack and signaled for Emilio Torres, a thin, quiet man fifteen years her senior, to join her. Emilio was the loft master responsible for seeing that the necessary equipment was loaded onto the jump plane during a fire dispatch. He was also the rigging master, in charge of chute repair and preparation. She trusted him with her life.

“Ready, Emilio?”

“All set.” Emilio gestured to the group of rookies gathered around one of the forty-foot-long tables in the center of the room where a chute was laid out ready to be prepared. “You want me to do the demo first?”

“Yes. Then while I take half over the obstacle course, you can have the rest for rigging practice.”

“Sure thing, Ice.”

Mallory walked around to the far side of the table and pointed to the chute. “After today, the only person who should ever touch your jump pack is you or Emilio. I shouldn’t have to tell you that you can never check your chute enough times. During boot camp, you’ll clear the chute with Emilio before every jump.”

She stopped, judging their reactions. This was the point when rookies sometimes came to the realization that jumping out of an airplane with nothing but a bit of flimsy-looking nylon to break their fall was a lot less glamorous and a lot more daunting than they’d been willing to admit. No one spoke. “How many of you have ever jumped?”

Hooker was the only one of the six rookies to raise his hand.

“Where?”

“Skydiving,” he said.

Mallory nodded. “You’ll discover pretty quickly that we jump differently. Our landing zones are much smaller, our chutes are designed to float differently, the draft on your body when you’re fully loaded will be different, your landing will be different.” She smiled at him. “What I’m saying is, you’re going to have to unlearn what you know.”

He grunted and shrugged. Mallory held his gaze for a few seconds, then swept the rest of the group. “Those of you who have never jumped are not at a disadvantage. In fact, we generally prefer that you have no experience. No bad habits to unlearn.”

A couple of the guys laughed.

“Every day for the next week will break down like this—morning run and classroom work before lunch. After, you’ll run the obstacle course—standard setup. Rope climbing, clearing obstacles, climbing barricades. At the end of the course, you’ll be climbing the jump tower for a series of simulated drops.” Mallory checked her watch. Right on time. “Fit in your gym workouts when you can. Minimum requirement is forty-five sit-ups, twenty-five push-ups, and seven pull-ups. Questions?”

“How high is the tower?” asked Stan Rubin, one of the few professional firefighters among the rookies.

“Fifty feet. The cable lift is a hundred at its highest point.”

“That’ll produce a little speed on the way down,” Anderson remarked.

“Because you’ll be on a pulley rather than using a chute, you’ll feel the landing impact much as you would when dropping from the aircraft,” Mallory said. “I’ll take Rubin and Russo on the course first. The rest of you stay here so Emilio can get you acquainted with your jump gear. Your partner assignments for the jump simulations are on the wall by the door.”

Mallory took stock of the rookies. Anderson, as usual, appeared thoughtful. Rubin stoic. Jac was intense and focused. Hooker rolled back on his heels, bored. Mallory tried not to let her gaze linger on Jac’s face, but it was hard. Hard not to look at her, even harder not to want to.

*

“Ready for this?” Sarah asked as she and Jac got into line at the foot of the jump tower.

Jac looked up to the top of the platform fifty feet above her head. It didn’t really look all that high off the ground. “Ought to be a piece of cake after the obstacle course.”

“It’s a bear, isn’t it?”

Jac stretched her shoulders. “Forty-five feet of rope never looked so long in my life.”

“Did Mallory offer to let you out of the rest of the course if you could beat her time up?”

Jac regarded the blisters on her palms. She could still feel the burn of the braided hemp rubbing on her wrists above her gloves. Mallory had gone up the rope like a monkey. Her legs had entwined with the rope as naturally as if it were a lover. The muscles in her arms and shoulders and back contracted and relaxed in the steady unbroken rhythm that propelled her to the top as effortlessly as if she were walking down the street. She would have been beautiful under any circumstances. Considering how Jac had been thinking about all that muscle moving over her, or under her, she’d been glorious. Jac swallowed hard, her throat so dry it stung. “I’m not dumb enough to bet against her. But Rubin was.”

“After he saw her climb?” Sarah laughed. “How bad did he lose?”

“I think the performance anxiety really got to him. He almost fell off.”

“What do you want to wager a few more give it a try next round?”

“Doesn’t she ever get tired?”

“Not that I’ve ever noticed,” Sarah said softly, glancing up to where Mallory was just a dark slash against the fading afternoon sun.

Sarah’s face softened as she watched Mallory move around above them, and Jac wondered if she was reliving some intimate personal moment. She wanted to ask but didn’t know how. It wasn’t any of her business what their relationship was. She’d just have to go slowly crazy trying not to speculate. “What about you? You ever beat her time?”

“Not on the rope,” Sarah said. “But I’m a mighty fine tree climber, if I do say so myself. I’ve never actually raced her up a pine, but I think I’d have a good shot.”

“I think I’d much rather climb a tree than a rope.”

“It’s awesome. One of the reasons I can’t wait to get back here every year.”

“What do you do in the off-season?”

Sarah smiled. “Spoken like a true smokejumper. Most people consider this the off-season and the rest of the year their real jobs.”

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d have to say this is what I really care about,” Sarah said pensively. “The rest of the year I teach riding and train horses at a ranch in New Mexico.”

“Sounds pretty interesting.”

“It is. But out here”—Sarah shrugged and swept her arm toward the mountains—“when I finish working a fire, I know I’ve done something worthwhile. Made a difference. No question in my mind.”

“And had fun doing it.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Sarah shot her a grin.

Mallory’s voice came over the radio. “Five-minute warning.”

“Okay,” Sarah said briskly. “Give me a run-through of the drop sequence.”

Jac repeated what Mallory had reviewed after they’d completed the obstacle course. “Jump, check the canopy, check the airspace, check the three rings, grab the toggles, disconnect the stevens, steer.”

“You listen good, rookie.”

Jac laughed. “I’d rather not fall on my ass first time out. I haven’t exactly had a great start.”

“Sounds like you did just fine,” Sarah said.

“All the same, I can do without any more attention,” Jac said. Especially not Mallory’s. And especially not for something she’d screwed up.

“You’re not actually jumping today, so you don’t have to worry about the landing. Just the same, run the jump sequence in your head every time.” Sarah looked Jac over. “You look good to go. The more times you do this, the easier it’s going to be going out the plane.”

The radio crackled again, and Mallory said, “Team one, climb up. Team two, on the approach.”

Jac looked at Sarah. “Here we go.”

Sarah grinned. “Remember to tuck your chin.”

Up on the platform, Mallory gave them a perfunctory nod, then checked everything Jac was wearing—her boots, her pants, her jump jacket, the parachute pack on her back, the reserve chute across her chest, her personal gear bag underneath. Jac was loaded exactly the way she would be if she were ready to climb onto the plane for a fire call. Then Mallory tugged on the harness that crisscrossed her body and ran between her legs.

“Looks good,” Mallory said.

Jac didn’t figure an answer was required. The view was incredible. If she reached up, she was certain she could touch the clouds that had fluffed up in the heat of the midday sun into pillowy mounds. Mountains ringed the camp, unbroken by power lines or man-made roads, sweeping, majestic, wild, and awe-inspiring. Mallory looked good framed against the dark craggy peaks, her face as daringly sculpted as the line of mountaintops behind her. Her eyes were bright and clear and crystalline as the sky. She was in perfect harmony with the world around her—strong and confident.

“Repeat the jump sequence,” Mallory said.

Jac hesitated for a heartbeat, still lost in Mallory’s aura. Then she came to attention and automatically repeated what she had recited for Sarah a few minutes before.

“Good.” Mallory clipped the pulley rig from which Jac would be suspended in air onto Jac’s harness and then a second one to Sarah’s. “Mount the ready stand.”

Jac stepped onto the foot-wide riser at the edge of the platform, and Sarah climbed up next to her on the parallel pulley line. The slope fell away below her, much like the mountainside below a ski jump. Except there was no groomed surface to land on if the pulley gave way, only treetops.

“On the count of three,” Mallory said.

Jac looked down the hundred-foot slope at the wall of sawdust at the end that formed the landing zone. She’d heard about it—some people called it the slamulator.

“Three, two…” Mallory’s voice intoned.

Jac let Mallory’s voice fill her head and emptied her thoughts of everything else.

“One. Jump.”

Jac stepped off into nothing.

*

Jac watched the door to the mess hall, waiting for Mallory to come in for dinner. She lingered over fried chicken and mashed potatoes as long as she could, making small talk with Anderson and Rubin. Finally, she accepted that Mallory wasn’t coming.

“Okay, guys,” she said. “I’m ready to surrender. I’m gonna get some rack time.”

Anderson stood. “I’m with you. I’ll walk over with you?”

“Uh, I’m actually headed over to the hangar. I’m bunking over there until Sarah’s place off-site is ready.”

Hooker looked up as they passed his table. “Sleeping with the boss already, Russo?”

Jac ignored him. She’d been as surprised as anyone when Mallory stopped her after the afternoon’s workout and said, “Sarah’s taking the bunk in the barracks. Bring your gear over to the loft.” Before Jac could say anything, Mallory had spun on her heel and strode away. She couldn’t tell if Mallory was pissed at having her private space invaded with no warning, or if she was totally indifferent. Jac had been hoping to see her at dinner and maybe get some answers, but no such luck. Since hiding out wasn’t her style, she figured she might as well go find out what the story was.

Anderson looked over his shoulder as they walked out into the yard. When they were alone, he said, “I don’t mind telling you, I’m sore all over. And I thought I was in good shape. I’ve been training hard for this all winter.”

Jac rubbed her right shoulder where she’d banged into the not-so-soft sawdust wall on one of her last practice runs. “I was feeling pretty good after the obstacle course, except for a few blisters. But I felt like my brains were going through a blender after the third time into that wall.”

“Yeah, I think they made their point. There’s no such thing as a soft landing.”

“Well, there’s always landing in a tree,” Jac pointed out.

“Oh yeah, that works. If you don’t fall out and break your ass, you have to rappel down on a skinny little line fully geared up. No thanks. I’ll take the good old ground, anytime.”

“Yeah, me too.” She cut right toward the locker room as he cut left toward the barracks. “See you tomorrow.”

He waved and she went through the empty ready room to collect her gear. The hangar was dark when she let herself in through the side door, but she had a feeling she knew where Mallory would be and plotted a course from memory. After she circled around behind the plane, she saw a small cone of light edging out into the darkness. Mallory was at her desk, going through a six-inch stack of paperwork.

“I didn’t see you at supper,” Jac said.

Mallory glanced up. “Charlie sent over a sandwich for me.”

“Too bad. The chicken was tear-inducing.”

“I know.” Mallory smiled. “Charlie does something to it—injects it with sugar or something. Once you’ve had his chicken, you’re ruined for life.”

Jac laughed. “I might have been ruined before I showed up here, but I’m definitely not salvageable now.”

Mallory scribbled something on the bottom of a form and tossed it on top of the pile on her right. The right-hand stack was the finished pile, presumably. That stack was a lot shorter than the one she was working on. “I cleared out a space upstairs. There’s a cot. It’s rustic.”

“Believe me, after today, I could sleep anywhere.”

“That’s good, because you’re gonna have to.”

“At least I won’t be bedding down with sand and fleas.” Jac hesitated. “Will I?”

“The field training is just like fire call…tents, sleeping bags, water and food rations, the whole nine yards. Enjoy the cot while you can.”

“I appreciate you letting me—”

“Look, Jac,” Mallory said without looking up as she scribbled something on another form, “there’s nothing personal about this arrangement. You needed a place to sleep. That’s all it is. You should go get some. Light switch is on a beam to your left as soon as you get up there.”

“Right.” She’d been dismissed. No reason to be bothered by Mallory’s disinterest. Hell, she knew the offer of a room wasn’t personal—Mallory obviously didn’t even want her here. She shouldered her pack. “Night, then.”

“Night,” Mallory said, reaching for another piece of paper.

Jac climbed up the ladder to the loft and switched on the light. Mallory’s sleeping space was neat and orderly. A tall, narrow, handmade bookcase of plain pine boards stood next to a cot with Mallory’s sleeping bag on top of it. The shelves were filled with what looked like an eclectic selection of books. A familiar-looking dented green army trunk sat at the foot of the cot. For a second, Jac felt like she was back in Iraq. The place looked exactly like every barracks she’d ever slept in. Functional, sterile. A place to crash between duties. Come to think of it, Mallory reminded her of the soldiers who returned for second and third tours, who couldn’t adjust to civilian life and preferred the controlled chaos of the battlefield. For a while, she thought she might be one of them, especially when it became real clear that having her around was a problem for her family. This posting had probably saved her from requesting another go-round over there. No time to think when you’re defusing IEDs.

Another cot was lined up parallel to Mallory’s about fifteen feet away, tucked under the eaves. A small rag rug sat on the rough wood floor next to it. A darker spot the same size marked where the rug had previously sat in front of Mallory’s cot. That small kindness sent an unexpected shiver of heat through Jac’s belly. She dumped the sleeping bag she’d been assigned along with her duffel onto the bottom of the cot and sat down, surveying the space. Despite its barren appearance, the place held a hint of Mallory. Honeysuckle. Smiling, she unrolled the sleeping bag, stretched out on her back, and closed her eyes. As she drew Mallory’s scent deep into her chest, she couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be.