Jenny Miller’s voice cut in. “A tree just ignited about ten yards upslope from the fire. It’s spotting up the mountainside heading west.”
Hawke answered immediately. “Get out of there, Miller! Now!”
Brandon looked to the west, saw another tree go up and another, flames rising into the forest canopy, trees becoming torches, the fire moving in Miller’s direction.
The wind had it. The fire was about to run.
Another spot fire.
Brandon hosed it down as Hawke drove slowly forward. The brush truck held only three hundred gallons. It wouldn’t last long.
They went on like this for another few minutes, smoke at times making it hard for Brandon to see.
Hawke spoke into his mic. “Miller, are you down yet?”
Silence.
“Miller, do you copy?”
The area where she’d stood lookout was engulfed.
Son of a bitch.
A burst of static.
“Sorry, chief. I was using my hands to downclimb. I’m almost out.”
Brandon let out a relieved breath, aimed the jet of water through the smoke toward the glowing orange of open flame. The water slowed to a trickle … and stopped.
He reached for his hand mic. “Hey, chief, we’re empty.”
It was the deafening sound that turned his head, the jet-engine roar of a fire blowing up.
He watched, unable to do anything, as the mountainside to the west of the creek went up in flame, the fire seeming to roll and leap uphill, a living thing, bathing the scene in an eerie orange glow. For a moment, all work ceased, the raw force of the fire turning firefighters into powerless spectators.
What the hell good were forty men and women with hand tools against this?
Hawke’s voice sounded in Brandon’s earpiece, breaking the spell. “We’ve got a blowup. This thing is making a run up Tungsten Peak and spotting to the east of the creek and north up the valley. We need air support now! Miller, where thehellare you?”
A human form in yellow and green moved toward them through the smoke, waving. “Here, chief.”
Brandon closed the dump valve, disconnected the hose, Miller joining him to help fold and stow it.
Her gaze met his for just a moment, and he could tell she was shaken. “I’ve never seen anything move that fast.”
“You did great. Way to haul ass.”
They listened to the radio traffic as they worked. Hawke ordered his crews to grab their gear and get the hell off the line. Robertson called his crew off the fire’s flanks and asked the sheriff to order a mandatory evacuation via reverse 911 of Ski Scarlet and all areas to the west of town up to the highway, including Camp Mato Sapa.
But Brandon’s mind went to one person.
Libby.
She was safe at Knockers, but her house was inside the mandatory evac zone. When she heard about the evacuation order, she would probably rush home to rescue her vinyl collection. She was impulsive like that.
He finished stowing the hose and climbed into the brush truck, coughing at the smoke that filled the little valley. He searched for his cell phone to warn her not to do anything crazy. The phone wasn’t in any of his pockets or his PG bag. He’d probably left the damned thing at the firehouse when he’d been making calls trying to find Bear.
Shit.