The Icarus Effect Page 9

  “Got it,” Ben said.

  “What about the rest of our training?” Chad asked. “We haven’t finished the whole week yet.”

  “You only had two days left. You’ll complete the rest of your training on-the-job. We don’t have the luxury of waiting until the end of the week. With all the tanker aviation grounded, we need as many ground crews moving as possible, right away, especially now with that big blowup happening up north. Now get out of here and quit wasting my time.”

  Ben and Chad both stood to leave. “Not you, Bennett,” Carlos said.

  Chad snickered under his breath as he shouldered his way past Ben to the door.

  “Turner,” Carlos snapped.

  “Yeah?” Chad looked back, the picture of innocence.

  “If I ever hear you making light of someone’s death again, I’ll personally finish rearranging your face where Mr. Bennett here left off. We’re a family here at NIFC, and the crew of MAFFS10 were our brothers. You learn to show some respect, or you can find another job.”

  Chad averted his eyes. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Get out.”

  Terry held the door open as Chad left, then shut it behind him. Ben looked up at Carlos, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Carlos gave him a long look. “Well?”

  “Sir?” Ben wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Aren’t you gonna try to make a bunch of excuses? Some stupid explanation for why you’re brawling on the front lawn two minutes after I announce the loss of an aircraft you happened to have flown on recently?”

  “It was personal, sir.”

  “Over a girl? I doubt that.”

  “Sir, I…”

  “Look, Bennett,” Carlos sank into his chair, “I’m slow, but I’m not stupid, deaf or blind. Every time we have new classes here, I’m watching for personality conflicts among the trainees. It doesn’t always happen, but it’s common enough, and when it does happen, it disrupts things. So I keep my eyes peeled. You and Turner have been posturing since you got here, and it started before young Miss Grogan figured into the equation.”

  “But, how could you…”

  “I told you. I pay attention. A lobotomized blind man could pick out how annoying Mr. Turner is to everybody he comes in contact with. You don’t strike me as the type to run with his type, and body language between the three of you told the rest. Turner irritated you. He was quick to defend himself, just like I’d expect a loudmouth to do. You? Not so much. So when you tell me ‘it’s personal’ between the two of you, I think it’s safe assuming it was something more than just a broken love triangle.”

  Terry snorted a laugh, then tried to cover it with a cough.

  “What?” Ben exclaimed. “No, it wasn’t like that! Hannah’s just a friend. I mean, she’s cool and all, but we only met the day before yesterday.”

  Carlos’ expression had softened, almost to the point of a smile, but not quite. “Which brings us back to my original point. Your impromptu steel cage death match with the resident blowhard was over something more than just Hannah.”

  Ben looked away.

  Carlos waited.

  “He made a crack,” Ben finally said. “He made a crack about the guys on MAFFS10. It just ticked me off, I guess.” He passed a hand over his eyes, then looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from flowing again. “They were decent guys, you know?”

  “I know,” Carlos said.

  “No,” Ben said, “I mean, they were really great to me, and for no reason. They let me ride in the cockpit, they told me all about their jobs. Colonel Enright even gave me his card, encouraged me to take flying lessons. He told me if I ever needed anything, I could call him, you know? He treated me like I really mattered. Me. Some total stranger that he’d just met. Who does that?”

  “I think you’ll find more people are like that than you expect. Like I told Turner, we’re a family here. We act like it, even toward new folks in the family.”

  “Yeah. Well, when Chad made a crack about the crew, I just lost it. I know it wasn’t the right time or place for that sort of thing, and I’m sorry about that, but…”

  “Hey,” Terry broke in, “sometimes, some people just need to get their noise-hole closed for ‘em. I totally get that.”

  “I get it, too,” Carlos said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the type of thing we can openly condone going forward. I’ll be lucky if that little weasel doesn’t try to get me fired, after what I said to him.”

  “Totally worth it, Boss,” Terry said.

  Carlos finally smiled. “Said the material witness for the prosecution.”

  “Hey,” Terry said, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Carlos shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be loading your gear and getting ready to leave?”

  “Probably,” Terry said. “I only came in here looking for my Superman cape.”

  “Haven’t seen it, but I think I did see a white cane with a red tip laying around somewhere. Was that yours?”

  Terry laughed. “I’ll leave you to it, Boss.” He nodded at Ben. “Keep him around if you can. He seems like one of the good ones.” He smacked Ben on the shoulder and walked out.

  “Stay safe,” Carlos called after him. “Well,” he said, looking back at Ben. “That’s pretty high praise, coming from Terry. I guess maybe I should keep you around.”

  “I really appreciate that,” Ben said. “And I am sorry about all the ruckus. I didn’t mean any disrespect. Those guys treated me like I was one of them.”

  “I know. Best thing you can do now, is do your best in their honor. Do me a favor, and don’t start out by missing the bus, alright?”

  “I won’t,” Ben said.

  Ben pulled his hotel door shut and hurried down the second-floor walkway toward the stairs. He figured he still had about ten minutes before the bus would be ready to leave. He was just passing the second door from the stairs when it suddenly opened, and he almost ran into Hannah coming out.

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to run over you.”

  “Sure you didn’t,” Hannah said. “‘Scuse me.” She pushed past him and headed for the stairs.

  “Hannah, wait.”

  She stopped at the top of the stairs, half-turning to look at him. “What?” Ben could see the beginnings of a nasty bruise starting to form below her left eye.

  “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I just want to apologize again…”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Okay, okay,” Ben said. “I know. Look, I’m not usually the guy who goes around punching people. It was an accident, Hannah.”

  “That doesn’t justify you beating Chad senseless.”

  “You did hear what he said, didn’t you?”

  “I can take care of myself, Ben. I don’t need you punching every jerk that makes eyes at me.”

  “It wasn’t just what he said about you.”

  “Oh, well that makes it all better.”

  “You heard him, Hannah. He was disrespecting those guys from MAFFS10, and for what? To make himself feel bigger, or better? He’s a scumbag. I’m glad I hit him. The only thing I’m sorry about is that you got hurt in the process.”

  “Why?”

  “‘Why’ what?” Ben asked. “Why am I sorry? Isn’t that obvious?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Hannah folded her arms and turned all the way to face him. “Explain it to me.”

  Ben felt his face getting red. “Because… it’s because I like being around you, all right? I’m just glad we met, and, uh… I was looking forward to being friends, that’s all.”

  Hannah forced herself not to smile. “Wow. You’re a real romantic, aren’t you?”

  “Apparently not,” Ben said, his face flushing even more.

  She unfolded her arms and came toward him, stopping barely a foot away. “I like you, too, Ben,” she said. “I just have kind of a history with bad-tempered guys, so when you
went off on Chad, that freaked me out a little.”

  “I’m so sorry…”

  “Stop apologizing already. Look. Carlos called me a couple of minutes ago. He put me on Bravo crew. We’re heading out to a fire right now, so chances are, you and I aren’t going to see much of each other for a while. Let’s just leave this at friends for now. We can figure out if it’s something more when we’re not running off in different directions, okay?”

  Ben felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment, but he tried to put the best face on it. “That sounds good to me. I…”

  Hannah cut him off, leaning in suddenly and kissing him on the cheek. She stepped back, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. “Gotta go. Don’t want to miss my ride.” She turned and disappeared down the stairs.

  Ben stood there for a moment, shocked and suddenly relieved. “Right,” he said out loud, though there was no one to hear him. “Can’t miss the bus.” He hefted his pack onto his shoulder and headed down the stairs. Hannah was already across the street in front of NIFC, climbing into a Forest Service van. She slid the door closed behind her, then turned and saw Ben crossing the street. She looked at him for a moment, watching him as the van pulled away. At the last moment, she broke into a wide, warm smile, raising one hand to wave.

  Ben smiled and waved back, then went to find his new crew.

  6

  Igne Iudicii

  Sawtooth National Forest

  Four Miles North of Grandjean, Idaho

  Two Days Later

  4:05 A.M.

  “Might as well get up, brother.”

  Ben raised his head off of his pack, blinking sleep and ash out of his eyes. His crew chief, a beefy man named Ronnie Lundy who seemed to have no neck, was gently shaking him awake.

  “Hey, Ronnie. What time is it?”

  “Time to get that money made,” Ronnie said. “Got a lot of line to clear this morning. Terrain’s gonna be a bear, so you better get some food in ya.”

  “Thanks.” Ben rolled out of his flimsy sleeping bag and looked around. They were camped in a deep drainage between two high ridges outside the little town of Grandjean. The previous day, they’d been sent into the drainage to dig a fire line above Silver Creek in an attempt to keep the lightning-sparked Observation Peak Fire from wiping Grandjean off the map. The main body of the fire was still two miles away to the north of their camp, burning in a parallel drainage, but the Forest Service wanted them to cut line in the Silver Creek drainage, just in case.

  Ronnie had warned them all how quickly fire could jump from one drainage to the next in steep country like this. They’d worked like fiends the day before, cutting brush and clearing a wide swath through the forest, a path stripped bare of flammable material. The idea was that if the fire got this far, it would stop at their fire line, starved of fuel. The reality was that in steep, timbered areas such as this, fire lines were about as effective as trying to stop a flood with a sponge.

  If the fire topped out in the trees near the line, wind currents fed by the growing heat would blow sparks and flaming debris right across the open space, and the fire would race through the timber on the other side. The most they could hope for was that if the fire came this way in a hurry, their line would slow its progress until air tankers could come and knock it down with retardant.

  Problem was, they didn’t have any air tankers. The safety stand down brought on by the crash of MAFFS10 had been extended indefinitely, and fire crews all over the area were feeling the pressure, knowing they had no help coming from above.

  Ben had never been so tired. As he looked around at the other members of his crew, he was shocked at their haggard appearance. I must not look any better, he thought. They were all slouching in place or moving about slowly, like people just recovering from a violent storm. Faces were covered with soot and grime, which in turn was cut through with random streaks of clean where little rivers of sweat had washed through the filth. Their clothing was covered in dirt and ash, and bits of ash clung to hair and beards as well, making people look like they were covered in snowflakes, or they had grown old long before their time. Flakes of gray-white ash fell softly through the thick smoke like snow, giving the entire camp a surreal, post-apocalyptic look.

  Ben took a pull from his canteen, swishing the water around in his mouth in a futile attempt to clear away the taste of ash and dirt. He spit the water out in a stream, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

  “Better off swallowing it,” Ronnie said as he walked back up. “You might find yourself out of water and wish you had that mouthful of spit back.”

  Ben grimaced, looking at his half-empty canteen. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Most people don’t, until it’s too late. Everybody sees pro athletes spitting their water out left and right, and they just sorta assume that’s the thing to do, right? Truth is, most pro athletes would take one look at our job, and they’d run the other way. No personal trainers up here, lemme tell ya.”

  Ben smiled to himself. It seemed that no matter what the topic was, Ronnie could turn it into a commentary on how weak professional athletes were in general. One of the guys had told Ben that Ronnie had been an All-American linebacker at Boise State, but had blown out his knee right after being drafted by the New England Patriots. He spent his rookie season on injured reserve, then retired without ever getting to play in a regular season game.

  “I’ll fill up in the creek before we head out, Ronnie.”

  “Eamon’s down there already with a filter and pump; have him top you off.”

  “Will do.” Ben stuffed his sleeping bag into his pack and strapped on his belt, making sure the emergency shelter was clipped to the back.

  “Tell Eamon to come on back up here when you’re done. I’m gonna get the daily brief; we should have a game plan when you get back.”

  Ben nodded his agreement and headed down the slope to the bank of Silver Creek. Eamon Nix, a skinny, quiet young man from Eastern Oregon, was busily filling canteens and spare five-gallon water cans from the creek, running the water through a portable pump and filter driven by a hand crank.

  “Hey, Eamon. Can I get a top-off?”

  “Yup,” Eamon said, reaching one hand out for Ben’s canteen.

  “Ronnie wants us to come up after this so we can get the daily brief.”

  “N-kay,” Eamon said, stuffing the hose in the top of Ben’s canteen and filling it with several quick turns of the pump handle.

  “You want some help?”

  “N-kay.” Eamon waved an arm at the two remaining empty cans, so Ben dragged them closer to the creek while Eamon handed two full ones up to him. He handed Ben’s canteen back, then finished filling the cans. Ben helped him string nine full canteens together with a spare belt, which Eamon then slung over one shoulder before picking up two of the larger cans and heading off uphill toward the camp. “Grab them two,” he said, not bothering to look back. Ben picked up the other cans and followed him up the hill.

  When they got back to camp, the others were up and moving around. Eamon walked from one person to the next, handing each their canteen without a word. Ronnie was several yards away from the group, talking back and forth on his radio, getting the morning report of fire conditions. Ben sat down with his back against a tree and dug an energy bar out of his pack.

  He was halfway through the bar when Ronnie clipped his handset to his collar and walked over. Ben looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Weather forecast looks good today,” Ronnie said, addressing the group. “Looks like the winds are supposed to be light and out of the southwest, so that means the fire should be moving the other way. Might give us some time to get some more work done here, without constantly having to worry about bugging out. There’s another crew working the next drainage to our northeast, so they’re between us and the fire. We’re the fallback for them if the fire changes direction, but right now that doesn’t seem likely. We’re also gonna get some help; NIFC is pulling Charlie cre
w in from west of here. They’ve had it easy, since the fire didn’t end up moving their way, so they’re gonna work with us to finish the fire line through this drainage.”

  Ben groaned to himself. Charlie crew - that was Chad’s crew. He’d hoped he’d seen the last of him when Carlos assigned them to different crews. Even though all the crews leaving NIFC were tasked for the Observation Peak Fire, Ben had initially been relieved to find that they were spread out, each crew working different critical areas. The sector Chad’s crew had been working was no longer in danger, so now they were coming here. Great.

  “They’ll catch up to us sometime before noon,” Ronnie was saying. “We don’t wanna be lounging around here when they show up, so let’s head out.” Everybody started shouldering packs and picking up hand tools as Ronny headed north out of camp, toward the line they’d dug the day before. Ben picked up his Pulaski - a double-headed tool combining an ax and an adze on one handle - and a drip torch, and followed the rest of the crew deeper into the drainage.

  Six hours later, Ben was using the adze head of his Pulaski to chop roots out of a section of their fire break. They were connecting their line to a large rock slide, effectively extending their distance without having to dig more. The crew was split in two, with six people on each side of the slide, about a hundred yards apart. Ben, in the group farthest from camp, looked back across the slide as Charlie crew materialized out of the brush, coming up the draw. Ronnie walked over and shook hands with Charlie’s crew chief, and they carried on a discussion for several minutes, with Ronnie gesturing and pointing for the other chief’s benefit while his crew took a breather. Ben couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see Chad sitting close to the two men, looking like he was trying to eavesdrop.