Jacob away because there didn’t seem to be a good path forward? Was he going to spend the rest of his life knowing he wasn’t worthy or was he willing to fight for a sliver of a chance that maybe, just maybe he could be? Something had to give, that much was clear, but as he came in for a landing, for the first time he was willing to entertain the possibility of another way out of this mess they were in.
Thump. Bump. Roll. More of that muscle memory kicked in for a safe, if bumpy, landing. The wind conditions meant that they’d landed a fair distance downwind from each other, but it didn’t take long to regroup. And then they were in the thick of it, no more room for deep thoughts, only working quickly at retrieving the cargo, getting their shovels and saws and remaining gear and getting a move on with digging their assigned lines. It was hard, dirty, smoky work that left his muscles burning and his attention focused on the job at hand.
He did, however, keep more to himself, less on Jacob’s case about little details, and something surprising happened. The more he worked that whole trust thing and didn’t nag or rush to do a task for Jacob, the less Jacob dug his heels in and the more he actually listened to him and Garrick when they did speak. Maybe he wasn’t the stubborn kid Linc kept trying to paint him as. And if he wasn’t that—
“Heads up!” Garrick stopped him from letting introspection back in by tossing brush near where he was working. On the comm set, there was a lot of chatter about changing wind conditions.
“Might need you to cut short if the wind shifts again. If the fire heads down the valley, we’ll need to get you out in a hurry.” Ray was back at the base, working with the fire command to determine the scope of their assignment. The priority was to strategically fell several trees, and they moved on to that with renewed haste. The air was smokier now, the risk of raining embers growing as the fire moved closer.
The normally still forest was loud both with the sounds of their work and crashing burning snags in the distance, signaling that the command had been right about the shifting fire. In the air, more planes flew low, both with more jumpers for other drop zones and with loads of retardant to dump on the fire itself.
While working on the second tree, a warning alert sounded on the radio.
“We’re extracting all crews along your line,” the comm set announced right as several almighty cracks sounded.
Linc looked up to see several widowmaker branches headed right for where Jacob was crouched, bringing Garrick, who had been in the tree, down with them.
“Move!” Linc yelled, even as he was already diving for Jacob, shoving him out of the way. And then everything blurred together, a spectacular concert of swift movement and crushing pain.
“Jacob!” he called, but his ears rang too loudly to tell if he’d actually shouted. And had he saved him? Was he too late? Too late for both of them? God, he hoped not, his last conscious thought a prayer that Jacob be okay.
* * *
“Move!” Linc’s shout reached Jacob almost simultaneously with an ominous cracking from above and a godawful yell from Garrick. And then Linc’s body, all his considerable bulk, was crashing into Jacob, shoving him several feet back as pine needles and debris rained down on them, branches and Garrick hitting the ground with sickening thuds.
“Garrick! Linc!” Fuck. Jacob’s wrist hurt from hitting the ground weird, mud was dripping down his face because his helmet was askew, and his ears rang, like he’d taken a roundhouse kick to the chin. But he was relatively unscathed while the other two were sprawled on the ground, and he didn’t know who to run to first.
Think. He needed to think. Evaluate. Assess. Neither man had answered him, the sound of his own pulse roaring above the forest noise as his heart clamored for him to rush to Linc first. However, he started with Garrick—he was closer, and also Jacob wasn’t sure he trusted himself to keep a clear head if Linc was