Chapter 1
Captain Michelle 'Mitch' Mitchell’s crew was the only thing standing between the small bedroom community and the bright orange line of flames creeping steadily across the parched foothills. She closed her eyes, taking in the acrid smell of smoke and she felt the adrenaline begin to pile up in her blood. It would just be her and her crew, wielding only hand tools and chainsaws, but they’d get this fire to behave before it reached any property or person. She nearly vibrated with excitement as she turned back to the map that was held down on the shallow hood of the bus by a couple of magnets.
"If we engage here," she said, running her finger along an imaginary line in front of the fire, "we'll have the highway to our backs to use as an additional firebreak if shit goes sideways." She pulled down her Nomex mask as the wind suddenly picked up, sending more of the thick smoke towards them.
"Exactly what I was thinking. I'll radio incident command," said Mitch’s station supervisor, Matt Walsh. The big man with the thick, graying beard gave her the go ahead to inform the crew of the plan while he went to the driver’s side of the bus and radioed their position.
This is what she lived for. She was so proud to be part of this elite team of firefighters. To be the first line of defense against such a destructive force. They were dropped off at the end of a road, carrying everything they needed on their backs: tools, food, water. Completely self-sufficient out in the middle of nowhere. Each crew member had a specific job and they did it with maximum efficiency.
There was nothing more gratifying to her than hiking into untamed territory and literally digging a line between the worst nature could offer and the preservation of lives and property.
She smiled to herself as she scrambled back into the bus and took her place in the first seat. The crew quieted and listened as she laid out the plan. When she finished, she looked each crew member in the eye, getting back that same excited grin she knew she sported. They reminded her of shaken bottles of soda, ready to burst out of their seats when their pent-up energy is finally released. “Any questions?” she asked and all of them shook their heads. Her grin turned into a feral smile as each crew member turned toward the back of the bus.
"I have one, Cap," Fish said from the back of the bus. Mitch nodded, smile still firmly in place.
"Blackjacks ready to fuck shit up?" Fish shouted a second before 'Back in Black' by AC/DC came blaring out of the battered utility speaker. The bus erupted into a raucous air band performance.
Once the bus stopped, the crew jumped out, grabbed their tools, split into their two teams of ten and jogged the rather short trek up to the fire line. They immediately began clearing all the vegetation in a ten-foot-wide swath, shouting encouragement to each other to keep the pace up.
Mitch jogged down the line to her spot, instantly feeling that rush of the familiar when she got her first lungful of smoke-tinged air and felt the heat of the fire, just a few yards in front of them. She was grateful for the mild weather. It certainly made breathing through her mask easier. The fire was slow moving since it was on a downward slope so they had some breathing room to dig their line nice and wide.
She started up her chainsaw and got to work on the larger pieces of chaparral, ignoring the tiny chunks of bark hitting off her chest and safety glasses as her second year swamper Chad Padgett began pulling away the debris.
She nodded in approval as she heard Fish barking orders at his rookie swamper, Terrell Johnson. As the veteran's chainsaw moved in a blur, the diminutive dark-skinned man pulled the debris away and into a pile opposite the line of fire, all the while taking Fish’s good-natured ribbing in stride.
The rest of the crew were furiously clearing the low grass with their mcleod hoes and pulaski axes, scraping the brush away down to the soil in quick, efficient movements.
"One foot in the black and one in the green!" Walsh shouted, reminding them all to look up and assess their position to the fire constantly. Mitch remembered hearing that phrase for the first time when she was a rookie. You’re safe in the black of the charred remains the fire has already burned. Firefighters literally lived and died by that mantra.
The Hotshots were finally joined by a couple of regional type II firefighting crews late in the afternoon. Even though they didn't have the training or experience the Hotshots had, they held their own and they all worked through the night cutting line until they joined up with another firefighting crew, closing the gap and then stood by while the fire burned itself out.
"Easy peasy," Fish said with an exaggerated sigh as he joined Mitch for a break from clean-up to watch the sunrise.
He was a few inches taller than her five foot ten, and they shared a similar build with wide shoulders and long arms. But that’s where their physical similarities stopped. She was fair skinned with short, light brown hair and big, dark blue eyes and he had light brown skin with long jet-black hair and deep brown eyes. His Native American heritage meant he didn't have much facial hair, and he kept himself clean shaven, making him appear much younger than his thirty-six years.
They'd come up through firefighter training together, she right out of high school and he after he'd used up his college eligibility on a full ride swim scholarship. They'd been best friends since their first week as probies thirteen years ago.
"If only all our fires were like that," she said as she lifted her Nalgene bottle to her mouth and swallowed the last couple of lukewarm ounces.
"Where would the fun be in that though?" he rejoined with a crooked smile as he brought his long arm to rest across her shoulders.
"Indeed, but it wasn't a bad fire to end a two-week shift on," she said through a long, jaw stretching yawn. She reached up and squeezed his still-gloved hand. "Come on, let's make sure the rookies didn't fall asleep on their rakes."
After a short debriefing at the station, Mitch climbed into her lovingly restored 1973 burnt orange Bronco and sat for a minute, debating whether she could make the twenty-minute drive back to her cabin without driving off the cliff. She could catch a few winks at the station if she needed, but she missed her girl too much and just wanted her own bed.
So, she pulled open her console and pulled out the third CD from the holder, started her truck up and slipped in her 'Stay Awake Mix'. The first screeching guitar licks from a Sleigh Bells song filled her ears. She blew out a sharp breath as she pulled out of her parking spot and drove up the windy mountain road, fingers tapping and head bobbing to the beat.
"Howdy neighbor!" Mitch called into the house when she saw only the screen was closed. She was exhausted but in good spirits like she always was when they contained a dangerous fire with no property loss. Now all she wanted to do was say hi to her neighbor and good friend Beth, grab her dog, go home, eat and sleep.
"Lord, Mitch, did you come straight from the fire line?" Beth asked as she swung the door open. Mitch looked down at her soot and dirt-streaked forest green ripstop cargo pants and yellow Nomex shirt and shrugged with a sheepish smile. Both were nearly bowled over by her large lab pit mix named Eleanor.
"There’s my sweet girl!" Mitch cried happily as she knelt to hug the big black dog. After the whimpering and wiggling died down to a manageable level, Mitch looked up with a grateful smile. "Thanks again, Beth," she said, watching the dog run to the Bronco and jump into the back.