Page 22 of Fire Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Mateo’s words came out in a near-croak as Ash and Kyle loaded him into the back seat of the brush truck. “They kept saying they would burn it all.” Mateo coughed, wincing with pain. “Not just the orchard. The whole forest. Fate Mountain. They said it was only the beginning.” His eyes flickered with panic. He tried to lift his hands as if to emphasize the warning, but his arms trembled too much to stay raised. He dropped them with a choked sound.

Ash felt the bottom of his stomach drop. The orchard had been a prime target, but hearing that the kidnappers wanted an even larger swath of land to go up in flames was staggering.

He glanced up at the dark sky, streaked with swirling smoke, and realized that if these people managed to ignite multiple fires around the mountain, the devastation could be huge. The orchard had been bad enough, but a massive forest fire was a catastrophe for the entire mountain.

“Easy,” Ash said, voice low, though every muscle in his body was tense. “You’re safe now.” To Kyle he said, “Let’s get him to the ambulance near the police line.”

Ash wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his glove. His radio crackled. “They’re containing the worst of it to the north, but we have hot spots popping up near the ridge. The helicopter crew says they can land near you to pick you up. They need someone to coordinate from above.”

Ash gave a single nod. “Tell them to meet me here. Everyone else stay on your perimeter lines. Keep dousing those flames. And watch for any sign of suspicious people. We have reason to think the criminals are still out here, lighting more fires.”

Kyle looked grim, but acknowledged the order to take Mateo down the mountain alone. Ash gave him a pat on the shoulder. Kyle climbed behind the wheel and drove away.

The helicopter approached, its rotors making a chopping sound against the smoky air. He squinted up to see the pilot descend. The swirling winds whipped at the ash on the ground. Ash had to shield his face until the chopper settled enough for him to approach.

Then the pilot gestured that they could only hover for a few seconds, so Ash ran forward, keeping his head low, and hopped up onto the skid with practiced efficiency. Another crew member helped pull him inside.

The helicopter rose again, banking away from the thickest columns of smoke. Ash strapped on a headset, adjusting the microphone to sit near his mouth. He gave the pilot a quick thumbs-up, then surveyed the forest below. Even through the tinted window, he could see the glowing patches of flame as they flickered in scattered clusters.

“We have a partial handle on the main line,” said the pilot over the headset. “But the wind is shifting east. We’ll have to do repeated water drops to keep it from crossing that ridge. If it crosses, the entire southwestern slope might go.”

Ash leaned forward, scanning the terrain with his sharper-than-average sight. Even in human form, shifters had keener senses than humans. He spotted swirling grey plumes beyond the ridge, where bright orange tongues of fire licked along the forest floor.

“Start those drops,” he said into the mic. “I’ll try to direct you where it’s worst.” The pilot nodded and adjusted the helicopter’s heading. Ash keyed into the Fire Patrol frequency and told them he was coordinating from the air, describing the pockets of flame that needed attention from the ground.

As the pilot guided the helicopter, a second firefighter on board readied the large bucket that hung beneath them, preparing to scoop water from a nearby reservoir. Ash watched them, feeling a surge of pride in his crew’s skill, but also a surge of anger at the unknown saboteurs.

They completed two quick passes, dropping water on the forest canopy where the fire threatened to climb higher. Steam rose in great billows, partially masking their view, but the pilot kept them steady.

On the third pass, Ash told the pilot to hover at a midpoint where the fire had retreated from one side. He could see a suspicious cluster of movement through the swirling haze. It did not look like wildlife or firefighters. The figures seemed to be running in the direction of the thickest trees.

Ash squinted, breath catching in his throat. That movement pattern was not random. It was too coordinated. He pressed the button on his headset, speaking with calm urgency. “We have men moving through the forest, heading east. They look like they’re trying to skirt the main area. I think they’re the ones who started this.”

The pilot glanced in that direction, although the smoke made it difficult for him to see. “Your call, Chief,” he said. “We have enough fuel for more water drops, but we can drop you closer if you think you can track them.”

Ash’s jaw clenched. The criminals had a head start. If they managed to vanish into the deeper woods, they could ignite more fires or escape altogether. The Fire Patrol was focused on the flames, so the police might not catch up. Ash decided that he had to act.

“Take me as close as you can,” he said, leaning in to keep his words clear above the noise. “We need to stop them before they do more harm. The ground teams should surround them from the east if possible.”

He flipped channels on his radio to speak to the police. Detective Parker was likely at the perimeter by now. “Detective, we have multiple suspects moving east from the cabin site. I’m going in from above. Can you close off their path from the ground?”

The reply crackled back. “Copy that. We have officers in that sector. We’ll converge from the eastern perimeter.” Parker’s voice carried an edge of determination.

The pilot hovered lower, searching for a spot to let Ash out. The canopy was thick, but they found a narrow clearing where blackened shrubbery provided enough space for the helicopter to hover only a few feet above the forest floor. Ash felt the heavy buffet of the rotors, swirling hot air around him.

The second firefighter slid the door open. Ash readied himself, breathing labored from the heat. He was used to jumping from short heights, though it was always risky.

Smoke stung his eyes as he crouched at the open door. The ground below looked uneven. He took a breath. “I see a good spot,” he said, mostly to himself. Then he leaped.

There was a split second of free-fall, followed by a jarring landing that sent him into a controlled roll. He braced with his shoulder and let the momentum carry him until he was upright again. Pain flared in his side, but he exhaled in relief that it was only minor.

The helicopter rose once more, disappearing into the haze. Ash coughed and scanned his surroundings. Tall pines and firs dominated the area, some of them scorched at the bases. The ground was littered with piles of burnt needles. Smoke drifted in thick pockets, limiting visibility.

Shifting into a bear would grant him keener senses, raw strength, and speed that might give him the advantage. He let the shift flow through him. The sensation began as a ripple along his spine, an electric hum that spread through his limbs. His human form contorted, clothing ripping away.

The moment he settled into bear form, new layers of information flooded him. He inhaled, detecting the distinct tang of fear-sweat, possibly from men who were running. He heard distant snapping of branches, heavier than what a deer might cause. He could see movement to the east, though the haze made it difficult to pick out distinct shapes. With a huff, he began loping through the trees.

He stayed alert for spot fires, occasionally weaving around a patch of dry brush that was still smoldering. He moved with surprising agility for such a large creature, muscles bunching under thick fur.

His nose twitched at every subtle scent in the air, sorting through burning pine, scorched earth, and the sharper odor of gasoline. He recognized the stench of accelerants that might have been spilled from containers. That gave him a stronger trail to follow.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement appeared between blackened trunks. Through the swirling smoke, he saw at least two figures. One seemed to be limping, while the other glanced over his shoulder.

They both had heavy packs or bags slung across their backs. Ash let out a low growl. These had to be the arsonists. They were making for the thicker undergrowth, probably unaware that a bear was behind them.

He lunged forward, crashing through brittle branches. The criminals spun around, eyes widening at the sight of the massive grizzly. Ash could almost taste their panic. One of them shouted at the other to split up.

They scrambled in opposite directions, forcing Ash to pick a target. The suspect bounded over a half-fallen log, stumbling in the ash, and then vanished behind a screen of branches. Ash thundered after him, vaulting the log with a single leap. The man was quick, but the ground was uneven. Smoke hampered his vision more than it hampered Ash’s. The man coughed and tried to keep going, but Ash was faster.

Fallen debris crackled beneath the grizzly’s paws. He closed the distance, glimpsing the man’s face: wide-eyed terror, smeared with soot, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. The man realized he would be caught if he ran, so he spun around, fumbling with something in his hand.

Through the haze, Ash spotted a slender tube that looked like a flare gun. The man raised it, hands shaking. It was possibly loaded with a flare that could ignite more brush if aimed at the forest floor.

Ash did not slow. His primal instincts urged him forward. He let out another roar, the sound echoing off singed trunks, and barreled toward the man. The man fired the flare. It zipped past Ash’s left side, leaving a streak of red. A small patch of pine needles sparked near Ash’s feet, but they didn’t erupt.

The man cursed and tried to fire again, but Ash swiped with his massive front paw. The flare gun went flying into the underbrush. The man stumbled backward, arms flailing. Ash bared his teeth and lunged, slamming him hard enough to knock the duffle bag from his grip.

The man collapsed in a heap, coughing violently. Ash pinned him with a heavy paw, ensuring he could not move. The man struggled, trying to twist free, but found himself immobile beneath a towering grizzly. His mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes bulging with what looked like pure terror. Ash held him down, his muzzle inches from the man’s face.

A wave of triumph surged through Ash, as he shifted to human form and used the straps from the duffle bag to tie up the arsonist. The other suspect had split off, possibly intending to start more fires. If that man managed to slip away, the forest was still in danger.

Ash shifted back into bear form and scanned the area, ears pricked for any sign of footsteps. Through the static of burning timber, he picked out the sound of movement. He rumbled deep in his chest, frustration building.

The smoke was too thick to see far, but he heard distant voices. He could smell them somewhere to the east, possibly Parker or his officers. Ash faced the smoky gloom to the north, intending to track the second suspect.

That man had disappeared behind a stand of scorched oaks. Ash sniffed the air. The acrid smoke burned his nostrils, but he caught a whiff of the pungent hint of gasoline. It was the same chemical odor that had led him here. He galloped forward, ducking under a low branch blackened by the flames. Embers rained down when he brushed it, but they scattered harmlessly across his thick pelt.

Up ahead, he glimpsed movement behind a cluster of jagged boulders. Ash saw a flicker of reflection from something metallic. Perhaps it was a fuel canister. He padded closer, ears perked. The man looked over his shoulder, and Ash’s presence was revealed.

The suspect shouted a curse, clutching the canister in one hand and a handheld lighter in the other. The man seemed set on igniting the area around them if it meant covering his escape. It was a desperate tactic, but these criminals had proven they were willing to do anything.

Ash launched himself around the boulders, letting out a roar. The suspect tried to scramble back, dropping the lighter in the process. Ash seized the chance. He charged, big paws thudding over cinders. The man gave a final yelp and turned to run, but Ash collided with him in a flurry of motion.

The man crashed face-first into the ashy soil. The canister skittered away, bouncing against a rock. Ash planted his weight on the man’s legs, effectively pinning him.

The canister was closed, so no spillage occurred, but Ash’s adrenaline spiked at how close the man had come to starting another fire. The suspect writhed, spitting out dirt, face twisted in rage.

He reached for a small blade attached to his belt. Ash saw the glint of steel and swiped his paw to knock it from the man’s hand. The blade spun away, disappearing into the half-burned undergrowth.

Trapped, the suspect clenched his fists, shouting insults at the massive bear. Ash responded with a deep growl. The man’s bravado crumbled. He tried to scramble backward, but Ash’s sheer weight kept him pinned. In the distance, sirens echoed, and Ash recognized the faint whir of a second helicopter. Backup had arrived.

A group of uniformed figures emerged through the haze. Detective Parker was at the forefront, protective gear covering his face. Some officers held sidearms, scanning the area. Ash rumbled to signal that these men were subdued.

Parker raised an arm to wave to his colleagues. They began to fan out, likely searching for more suspects. Parker stepped carefully around half-burned logs, eyes flicking from the canister to the pinned man.

Parker gave Ash a tight nod. The detective’s voice was muffled behind his respirator. “We got the other one,” he said, then called to his men. “Secure the second suspect. Read him his rights.”