Page 119 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
But I don’t move.
I can’t.
A fucking tear I fight back finally escapes. Too much emotion. Too much everything.
I close my eyes to process it. To accept it.
Just one more minute.
I’m alive.
“You good, man?” I open my eyes to see Bowie. He’s standing over me, looking down, hand extended to help me stand.
Our eyes meet and he nods ever so slightly to let me know he knows the hell that just went on in my head. And that he’s proud of me for holding on.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod in return and let him help pull me up.
“Seven-in. Seven-out,” he says as he lifts his chin over his shoulder to where the guys are gathering the supplies we have left that the fire didn’t incinerate so we can work our way out of this gorge.
And we do. We work hour after hour. Our bones hurt and muscles ache and chests burn, but we do what we love. We cut prevention lines should the wind switch and bring the fire back this way.
No matter how hard we work, hot spots flare around us.
“Keep that line,” I shout to Veego and his crew as I turn to look over my shoulder.
We’re in the depths of hell. At least that’s what it looks like all around us. The smoke is
so thick that the ash falls like a downpour. The orange flames lick the perimeter around us. With our tanker, food, and communication devices taken by the fire, it’s up to us to get the fuck out of here.
Out of habit, I look at my cell again, knowing there is no battery left but hoping anyway.
“Where are the goddamn Hotshots?” Dixon asks, referring to the elite team of wild-land firefighters as he stops and takes a conservative sip from what little is left in his canteen.
“My bet is they’re on the eastern ridge. That’s where they’re needed the most,” I say as I look over to him. My face probably looks like his, black with soot but streaked from sweat, eyes red and exhausted.
“It looks like our sorry asses could use them right now,” he says with a delirious laugh as he holds his arms out and does a mini-spin.
“You pussying out on us, old man?” I ask with a matching laugh. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that.”
It’s my pseudo-apology. In the middle of a firestorm. It’s my way to let them know I know I’ve let them down. That I’m not going to let them down this time.
No matter the cost.
Dix walks over to me and puts an arm around my shoulders. “You kicked ass, Grady. We never doubted you, but hell if it doesn’t feel good to have you back.” He squeezes and then lets go, nods, and goes back to holding the line.
“How much farther do we have?” Mack asks.
“Ten miles. Fifteen. Just depends if we get out of this gorge on our own or if they find us first,” I guess to the groan of the guys. They’re exhausted, starving, and want to be anywhere that isn’t covered in rocks to fall asleep, even if it’s just for thirty minutes.
“My stomach’s growling, boys. Quit the yacking and finish cutting this line so we can head out,” Johnson says. “Food’s calling my name and a hot shower is the only other thing I want.”
“Me too,” I murmur. And Dylan. The only other thing I want is her.
“Balls to the wall, boys,” Bowie says and all six of us repeat it back to him.
“Let’s do it.”
“Dylan?”
