Free Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9) by M. L. Buchman Page A

way out of this.
    Krista turned and pointed at Evan.
    “He did it!”

Chapter 7
    The Tillamook Hill Fire led to the Reno Creek Fire, and then a trio of brutal burns down in Southern California.
    Downtime wasn’t an issue—they had none. So Evan didn’t have any trouble keeping his focus on the fire.
    However, not having any downtime was becoming a serious issue for other reasons.
    You aren’t seventeen, Ev! That year he’d graduated high school and signed up for Army ROTC at Boise State. He’d only gone ROTC because he’d burn in hell before giving his parents the “we paid for you schooling” weapon to add to their arsenal.
    No, he was thirty-two this fall, but he wanted to be playing grab-ass with a hot woman as if he was still a teenager. There was a major problem here in his libido’s opinion. In truth, they didn’t get a single second of time together, because you sure didn’t play games while on the fire.
    Their time off mainly consisted of passed out on the jump plane in transit between fires, or passed out coyote fashion on a fire. He didn’t care if MHA paid a bonus for wrapping himself in a tarp and sleeping where he fell rather than a crappy tent in the middle of a noisy fire camp, it didn’t get him a single moment more with Krista.
    The only slow times were meals, and on these fires, a number of those had been eaten while trooping from one fireline to the next wearing sixty pounds of gear.
    “Goddamn it, Akbar,” he complained as good-naturedly as he could while they crawled onto yet another flight in full gear. “Don’t you guys ever get off the fireline?”
    The engines on the DC-3 roared to life filling the cabin with a healthy dose of hot engine stink before they could shut the rear door.
    “Rook is whining!” Akbar called out to the rest of the plane as soon as the engine noise had been mostly shut outside. “Wants a day off when there’s fires burning.”
    Calls of “Wimp!” and similar were shouted by the others. Even Krista joined in with a loud raspberry noise.
    “Quality of rookies these days is sad state of affairs,” Ox offered in his deep voice, sounding more like a Baptist minister than a Russian strongman.
    “Shit you guys, you know the NASA line: On Earth…”
    Everyone on the DC-3 joined in, “ Something is always burning.”
    Evan turned to Akbar and held out his hands, palm up. “See?”
    “True. True,” Akbar nodded sagely but by the look in his eye, Evan had just made another rookie mistake.
    “What?”
    Akbar glanced over at Krista who nodded. Then Akbar looked up the plane’s aisle and shouted over the sudden roar of the engines cranking up to launch them down the runway.
    “Ox!”
    “Yeah, boss!”
    “Next week you’ll be promoted to my jump partner for a few days. Rook wants your slot.”
    “Hallelujah!” Ox fist pumped.
    “What?” Evan had missed something and his jump partner was ecstatic about it.
    Akbar simply patted him on the shoulder.
    Evan looked at Krista for a clue. She didn’t say a word, but she was grinning like a lunatic. Clearly he’d not only stepped in it, but stepped in it deep.
    No amount of hounding Akbar or Krista over the next seven days gained him a single hint.
    All Ox, the asshole, offered was a chilling laugh and a darkly muttered, “Doom! Doom!”
    # # #
    Finally off the fires, Evan got to sleep in a bed. Not with Krista, but he was past caring. The bunk was heaven.
    They’d all unloaded, restaged the gear, and crawled into the showers then their bunks. No calls of “Doghouse Inn!” Not many even made it down the buffet line that Betsy somehow managed to drag together despite following the MHA flight crews from camp to camp with her cook tent and supplies in tow.
    Three straight weeks on fires equaled severe sleep deprivation.
    Evan managed to resurface by midday, sixteen hours later. He felt so much better, except for the permanent kink in his neck from sleeping the whole time in one position.
    He went out in