Page 7 of Redwood Blaze (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #1)
SIX
MILLIE
I have to really give it the old shoulder push to get the door open, but when I do something with four legs runs out between my legs. I do a fancy jig, and a shiver runs down my spine. I pull out my phone and use it as a flashlight but not before noticing six unread messages.
Six? Weird.
I don’t stop to read them, searching my bag for my flashlight or small lantern to make this place more inhabitable.
I find the lantern first and get it started.
The room brightens with an eerie sepia-tinged glow.
Even with how small the place is, every corner is blacker than the next.
This is definitely not going to be a hard-sleep night.
But I’m used to going fifty to seventy-two hours of no sleep when fighting fires, so lack of sleep isn’t new to me.
I go back out the truck and grab my war bag. It’s just habit to take it out of my truck. It’s got all essential items for an extended stay assignment when out in the woods.
I still. My heart ticks faster in my chest.
No, you’re just imagining it.
I blow out a long breath and when I inhale again, it’s unmistakable.
Smoke.
I think back. Tower six reported that small smoke coming from a peak and then our problem child peak three, but I’m near tower four. Both of those are miles away.
I pull out the SAT phone and dial the office phone.
“Rusty here.”
“Rusty, it’s Millie.”
“Where the hell are you?” I hear metal chair legs scrape the floor and that’s not Rusty’s normal calm, cool, collected self.
“I’m where I told Cole I’d be.”
“And where is that?”
“Rusty, what’s wrong?”
“Lookout tower three is on fire. I was on the coms with Trav when I heard what I think was a gunshot and then Firehawk tower four called in that tower three is on fire.”
“What? Gunshot? And a fire on a tower?” My brain is not comprehending what he’s saying.
Sure, it’s dangerous out there, but never guns and it’s never great when a fire starts on the ground, but for one to start in the treetops. That usually only happens with lightning.
“Have you called?—”
“Sheriff Dunning, yes, and he’s sending someone to tower three but now we need to get out there.”
“I’ll come back.”
“No, I’m coming to you. Where are you?”
“Himbaugh’s cabin.”
“You mean lean-to in the woods? Baby, that’s no place to?—”
“I’ll meet you?—”
“No, I’m already in my truck. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Rusty, please be… please be careful. There are things… people… who want to see people I care about hurt.”
There’s a long pause.
“We’ll talk when I get there. Just stay put.”
That’ll be the longest twenty minutes of my life.
“Good-bye,” I say.
“See you soon,” he says and I hear the truck roar down the road.
I shouldn’t have left the safety of the nest. The Hotshots HQ is a fortress, but I did what I always do…
Run .
The memories are like flashbangs.
Lamps hurled at my feet.
Doors slamming so hard that they create a suction in the house and my ears pop.
And the screaming.
I slump to the floor and turn the lantern down to a flicker.
It can’t be Gideon.
But I’d said that to myself over and over and it always was him.
I open my phone to read the messages that are still there.
Terra: Just got a notice from Montana state patrol that the car that Gideon stole in Oregon was found in Butte. Please tell me you’re okay.
Sheriff Dunning: Ms. Archer, are you okay?
Cole: Sheriff Dunning called me to ask where you are. I told him.
Rusty: There’s shit going down here. We need you to come back.
Rusty: Please let me know you’re okay.
Unknown: I found you. Nice Chevy truck. It’s time to come home, Millie.
How he not only found me, but also has my phone number… I don’t think I’m fine.
I lean back against the wall and something scurries across the floor across from me. My chest burns with how much I want to be back with the Hotshots.
I’m so sick and tired of being afraid of Gideon. I’m so tired of him being the one deciding who, where, when, and what. I’ve never been scared of him. I’ve always pitied him. He had no idea who he was and what he was feeling, so he took it out on me.
I open the messages.
Millie: I’m not afraid of you. You aren’t supposed to contact me. I’m reporting you to the authorities.
I change the contact card.
Gideon: You can report, but it won’t do any good. I’m right outside of this shitty little cabin, baby.
I whimper but cover my mouth to stop any sobs.
Gideon: And don’t think that you can run again. Your truck won’t go anywhere from this point forward, I promise you.
Millie: Abort! My crazy ex is up here. He’s disabled my truck. Meet me at crossroads Canyon and Shadow.
Rusty: There’s a cabin about a mile from you, head due west toward Cole’s cabin and I’ll meet you there. Please stay safe.
I fill a small ruck with the essentials.
Twenty-pounds max, which for some people would be a lot, but I’d usually carry eighty, so with this weight I can sprint, not just run.
I find a window on the back of the cabin and throw open the sash until the pane breaks like I’m trying to sneak out of the back of the cabin.
Soon the shuffling of footsteps starts around the building.
I take off on an all-out run out the front door and into the woods.
If I thought it was dark in there, it’s pitch black out here.
And yet, something is with me…
The smoke is thicker.
I slip a handkerchief over my face and quickly make my way into the woods.
West. I’m heading west.