Firestorm (23 page)

She exited her tent and looked this way and that, then made her way out of camp and toward the place where she judged the springs would be. There had been three narrow pools. Hopefully, the camp
had not discovered them yet. Weary firefighters would love a soak in that steaming water.

Reyne passed through a forested grove and crossed a grassy meadow, glad for the waxing orange moon that shone brightly even through the thick blanket of smoke. After some poking about, she thought she caught a whiff of sulfur and headed in its direction. Before her was a rocky wall, and Reyne picked her way carefully among the boulders, choosing each footstep with care.

She was just squeezing through a particularly narrow slit and wondering if the nighttime jaunt was worth it when the narrow crevice opened up into an idyllic little bowl of a room with a steaming pool at its center. Walled round with boulders, it looked cozy and inviting, as if it had been created only for her.

Reyne smiled and sighed. The sulfur smell was stronger here, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The only sound was that of gentle bubbles rising and breaking on the surface of the spring and the quiet
hoo-hoo
ing of a night owl nearby. The moon reflected off the water in a wavering orb of light, as if beckoning her.

Reyne’s grin grew wider. It was perfect, and apparently undiscovered. Quickly she pulled off her shirt and shorts and felt her way along the sloping edges of the pool. She kept her Keds on, aware that hot springs often had craggy edges or mineral deposits that could cut a person’s skin clean open. But as she eased her way in, she discovered that this was an uncommon pool.

As she looked around, she decided that once this had been a river’s way. The boulders and the crevice through which she had climbed were like large river stones, mostly worn smooth except for where they had cracked and opened under the harsh, central Washington sun. She felt along the bottom of the pool and finally
found the opening that allowed the hot, nourishing waters of the spring through to her basin. All along it were the rough mineral deposits she had expected. But away from it, where Reyne found a nestling place, the stone was as smooth as her bathtub at home.

She giggled aloud, feeling as if she had entered Eden through a secret passageway. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered. “For showing me this place.”

Reyne closed her eyes and listened only to the bubbles cresting and popping open, feeling the warm waters ease away the tension in her shoulders and neck. She slipped lower, resting her face in the water up to her nose. Even her jaw muscles needed relaxing.

Whenever she moved, the moon’s reflection broke up into a thousand shimmering shards of light. When she stilled, the orb gradually pulled itself back together into one image, like a mother hen tucking her chicks under her wings. She raised her hand, cupped full of water, and watched as the sparkling droplets fell, met the spring, and disappeared. She contemplated the images for a while.

“That’s what it’s all about, huh, God?” she whispered. “Our lives scatter and we leave your side, but eventually we all come home.”

There was no audible answer, but in her soul, Reyne thought she heard what her Creator was trying to tell her. “I just get so worried. What if it is Logan who’s been hurt?”

Do not worry
.

“Easy for you to say. You know it all. Couldn’t you let me in on part of it? Just part of it? I’d like to see the next few years of my life mapped out. Logan’s life. Then I could rest easy.”

The owl hooted again.
Look at the birds of the air
.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a giggle.

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

The verse filled her mind like the hot water filled the pool in which she sat. Reyne thought of Beth, remembering her last words to her. Her entreaties.

“I want to trust, Father. I want to rest in the knowledge that you are here with me and there with Logan, wherever he is.” She rushed on, feeling the urgent need to express her soul’s cry. “That you know the beginning and the end and that you’re going to carry me through the middle when it gets tough. But I’m scared. Dear Jesus, I’m so scared. I’m scared I’m going to lose Logan like I lost those others.”

Reyne could not tell if she uttered these words aloud or not. In any case, she was sure that God was present, hearing her. His Spirit was palpable. A tear left her eye and made its way to the pool and disappeared.

“I’ve wanted to lean on you, Lord. I know you’ve been waiting. But God, it was my fault. It was my fault that those kids died. I let Oxbow get them.”

It was not yours to control. Nor is Logan yours to control
.

She sat there a long time, rubbing her puckering palms together as the waters continued to work away her stress and God worked on her heart. An awful thought sprang to mind. “If you let them die, how do I know that you won’t let Logan die?”

There was only silence in her soul for long moments afterward. Reyne anguished over her own accusation. She knew that her Oxbow crew had made their own choices. But still, her God was
God
. He could’ve stopped them had he chosen to.

Finally the tender words came.
I am your Lord God, Reyne. Trust in me. Trust in me. I have good things in store for you. And for Logan
.
Trust in me. Trust in me
. The words beckoned to her heart like a candle in a dark window.
Trust in me
.

How long had it been since Reyne had truly trusted in God? She knew this was a weak spot for her. She took a deep breath and slipped all the way under the water, feeling the water cover her scalp and her hair spreading out around her. And there, as she was surrounded and buoyed by the healing water, an image ran through her mind.

She pictured Logan injured, hurting, somewhere out in a forest. And then she pictured God standing between the man she loved and the roaring, consuming flames. But not just standing between. Surrounding him, embracing him, shielding him. It was as if Logan was in a protected cocoon where nothing could touch him.

Reyne’s heart swelled.
Yes, Father. I will cling to that image. Go before us. Beside us. Behind us. I will trust in you. I will let go and trust our lives to you
.

Her lungs were fairly bursting for air. She broke the surface gasping, her tangible communion with the Spirit over. But she felt more free and at ease than she had felt in years.
This is what it feels like truly to hand something over to God
.

Then once again she thought of Beth, of how her friend had accepted her lot and made a gift even of her last days. “You taught me so much, Beth,” she whispered to the night sky. “I’m still learning from you.”

She stopped at the command center’s tent on her way back to camp. “Hey, Oldre, glad you stopped back by,” called the commander, ignoring the fact that he had been the one to order her out. “Turns out McCabe’s okay. Fella named Price was the one who got a stob through his thigh. And he’s going to be okay too.”

Reyne stood in the tent’s doorway and breathed a quiet prayer of thanksgiving. But she didn’t feel the wild rush of relief she had expected. And then she realized,
It’s because I already knew everything was going to be all right
.

She smiled, realizing that the good news had come only
after
she had made the decision to trust. She took it as affirmation that she was on the right track.

And it’s so much easier than the other way
. Reyne smiled.
Well, it’s about time, Oldre
.

The next morning Reyne learned she had been reassigned to Libby, Montana, where firefighters were in even more dire straits than in Wenatchee. The fires were everywhere; it almost seemed that the entire western half of the United States was aflame. Reyne hastily packed her duffel bag and her briefcase and boarded the chopper for Libby. On the way, she found herself wondering when she’d have a chance to see Logan again. She didn’t even know where he was stationed.
Well, Father, I’m glad that you know. Guess that’s just another thing I’m going to have to trust you for
.

The fire camp at Libby was in chaos. Thomas Wagner, also newly arrived, was scrambling to get equipment set up and the command team organized. Pitching in, Reyne found herself a Fire Service Jeep and headed toward town for some supplies. All along the highway she saw sandwich signs with handwritten entreaties:
Firefighters needed. Inquire at base camp
.

They were desperate for help. It had been twenty years since the West had seen fires this bad, and everyone was feeling the strain. Supervisors sniped at one another as crews became more and more difficult to obtain. Power plays abounded among those in the interagency
command center as personnel were stretched to their limit. Some fires were abandoned simply to run their course. Others were fought grudgingly simply because of the political pull that sub division homeowners threatened. Everyone was working eighty-hour weeks, sleeping when they could.

Reyne pulled into a convenience store and hopped out of the Jeep. After entering the store and taking off her sunglasses, she smiled ruefully around her, observing empty shelf after empty shelf.

“They plumb cleaned me out,” said the clerk with a shrug of his shoulders. “Were ya lookin’ fer anything in particular?”

“Well I was on a general snack-food run for the command center. I guess they’ll have to grab something from the mess tent just like everybody else. Unless there’s someplace else in town …”

“Nope. From what I hear, everybody’s in about the same state o’ affairs ya see here.”

“Oh well. My more important mission was batteries. I need Ds.”

Again he shook his head. “Cleaned me out of them, too.”

“Anyplace else in town?”

“You could try the general store about a mile south o’ here.”

Reyne hurried out of the store. Usually, the ICS handled supplies as efficiently as it did anything else, but there was nothing usual about this summer. Supply lines were down, and the people in charge had to scramble to obtain what the troops so desperately needed—such as batteries, which were needed to run some of the command center’s equipment and radios until the generators could be set up.

Reyne sighed and hopped in the Jeep. It was going to be a long day.

L
ogan hopped out of the plane directly behind his teammate, and their exit was nearly perfect. The winds were tolerable, and they chatted calmly as they watched the ground come toward them at twenty feet per second. Logan liked Jeffrey Shanks, had been glad to see his ruddy face when he arrived at the Libby camp last night. He was a friend from way back, and after a summer of working with rookies, it was a treat to serve with a pro.

In an unanticipated turn, the Mount Snowy fire—as the Libby crew had named it—had woven its way around the base of a mountain, then abruptly turned and swept uphill. It had crossed the mountain saddle and within hours had closed off a tiny town called Haven, torching the bridge—the only way out—and taking many people by surprise.

Most of the residents had heard the earlier reports and evacuated as suggested. But others had been more adamant about the folly of “BLM bureaucrats” and opted to stay, hoping to protect their homes. Now, with the flames lapping at the town’s outskirts, Logan and Jeffrey had been assigned to run through the settlement and make sure everyone got out immediately.

After landing and stowing their chutes, they started on the point highest up the mountain, running past homes on the only street and hoping there were was no one in the houses beyond. Their mission was to canvass the town, hitting every house they could, and then
return to the uphill end to be picked up by helicopter crews. They moved fast, using their bullhorns and banging on doors. Judging from the view they had on the way down, there was little time. Mount Snowy was not behaving like a normal fire, and they did not like what they sensed in the air.

It wasn’t long before they had reached the downhill edge of the tiny town, getting closer and closer to the fire. They had only come across eight people and had sent them up to the landing site first. Over the roar of the fire, they could make out the sounds of helicopters and tankers that were working to control the flames and buy them evacuation time.

At the east end of town, the street dipped and turned. It was there that Logan heard Reyne’s voice.

“Haven crew, come in. Haven crew, come in.”

Logan stopped in his tracks, grinned at Jeffrey, then pressed the intercom button. “I’m right here, baby. Where’ve you been all my life?”

There was a pause, undoubtedly as Reyne prepared to whip the impudent firefighter into shape with a quick lashing of the tongue and reminder of rank and respect. Then she said tentatively, “Logan?”

“You betcha! What are you doing here, babe? What are you doing on the radio with a jumper crew? Fire behavior becoming boring?”

“Not a chance. As you may have noticed, it’s all hands on deck. We’re all doing everybody else’s job like you are now. Listen, Logan. We’re monitoring the fire above the highway, trying to get tourists off the road before they’re incinerated. But we’ve heard there’s some old man on the far side, caught between the fire and the river. We can’t get to him. Check it out and report, will you?”

“Consider it done,” Logan said, all business now. He and Jeffrey moved into a jog, sensing that time was running out. “I will most definitely see you later.”

He could hear the laughter in her voice. “Oldre, out.”

Just as Reyne had said, an old man stood amid falling, burning embers at the edge of Ross Creek, at the bottom of the hill. Behind him, his cabin was in flames, and above it the hill that banked the highway was burning too. The bridge farther up the river had been so damaged by fire that it was impassable.

They paused, observing the scene as if it were in a movie. There was something impossible about it: the old man staring at the uncommonly deep creek while the embers came down about him like gentle snowflakes encasing a cozy winter scene.