Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,15

down on the bar while Tyler got distracted by a hot chick. Turned on by the smell of burnt ash and sweat, she clung to the tired Tyler, then complained about the soot on his face. Eager to seal the deal, he rushed to the bathroom to clean up.

Full of himself, and what he thought would be an easy lay, he strutted back, making a big deal of himself, and absently grabbed his drink. He tossed it back in one gulp, then spewed it back out all over the girl’s slinky sequin dress. He lost the girl, claimed a name, and is now known as Cosmo amongst the guys.

We go to it, scraping burnt vegetation to expose the bare soil underneath. He moves to the left while I work along the ridge to the right. I clear nearly the full fifty yards when an irregularity catches my eye. Leaning on the handle of my shovel, I peer at the burnt ground and the odd indentations in the soot. I drop the shovel and take a closer look.

It looks like bootprints.

On top of the burn?

I radio Smokey.

“I’ve got something.” The radio crackles and static is returned while I wait for Smokey to respond.

“What’s up, Ace?”

“Bootprints.” I peer at the tracks. It looks like a kid, but what would a kid be doing up here?

The allure of illegal fireworks comes to mind. My brothers and I are guilty of that. Our father tanned our hides after we lit leftover bottle rockets in the vineyards and set fire to half an acre of his prize-winning grapes.

Needless to say, that was the first and last time we ever did that.

“On my way.” As lead of our team, any irregularities are his to deal with.

While waiting, I check out the area. Sure enough, the tracks point out from the hot zone. Whoever those belonged to fled the fire. There’s charred matter beneath the footprints which means it was burning when this person ran.

But where are they now?

I scratch my head and follow the tracks to the edge of the ridge where they disappear. Am I following a ghost?

Smokey comes up behind me. “Hey, Ace, whatcha looking at?”

I gesture for him to follow me and take him to the tracks. “Look. They head out of the fire, while it was burning.”

Smokey squats and examines the bootprints. An old-timer, he’s been doing this for over twenty years. I’ve been fighting fires as a volunteer since I was eighteen. It’s been nearly a decade and he still makes me feel like the young buck on the team. I’m not, but that’s beside the point.

“Not a man.” He places the span of his hand over the boot print. “I think it’s a woman.”

“I was thinking a teenager firing off fireworks.”

“Could be, but we won’t know until after the investigation. Did you see where they were headed?”

“The tracks disappear over the edge of the ridge.”

He follows me to the ridge line and we peer down the rocky scree.

“What do you think?” I ask, honestly at a loss with what to do.

He’s my boss. Our primary edict is the preservation of human life. The second is putting out the fire. Sadly, the third is the wildlife and forests we serve.

6

Asher

“What do you think?” I pull at the scruff of my beard which only smears soot all over my face. It’s oily and the acrid smell burns my nostrils. My breathing mask is no longer required because the wind pushes the smoke over the ridge, giving us fresh air. Fresh air, which urges the fire to race toward my mother’s home.

Smoke billows back and forth, most of it blowing away from us, but the air is inherently unstable. Flames split wood with a crack. Dry tinder snaps as it pops in the heat. We work in a thick haze as the fire draws in fresh oxygen, devours it, and spits it into the air as acrid smoke. Flames down the hillside spin and whip in a vortex formed by the heated gas.

And we’ve lost the sun which make things ten times harder.

I spare a moment to pray my brothers are helping George prep the estate. Our mom probably gave them grief about leaving, but I’m certain they took her with them. We can rebuild her home, but we can’t afford to lose her. She’s too damn precious. She’s also incredibly stubborn. I don’t envy my brothers’ task.

Smokey peers over the edge and gives a shake of his head. He doesn’t like what