Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(121)

The men fighting the fire grew dry and tired. They’d worked their way into the forest along a line that had grown wide and deep. Jack leaned against his shovel as Mike Valenzuela passed by with a chain saw, headed up the line to cut boughs from more felled trees. He paused for a drink and took a few deep breaths before bending to his job of turning earth, tossing dirt onto a growing pile that formed a small dike against the forest. Mike moved down the line of men, out of sight. Jack wiped his forehead and put the shovel back to the ground.

Then something subtle happened. The slight breeze that Jack had been feeling on the back of his neck changed to a hot wind that hit him full in the face. Frowning, he began to walk up the line and around the curve in the direction Valenzuela had gone, looking for the source of that sudden heat. As the logging road went deeper into the trees, the volunteers thinned out and the professionals were the ones moving closer to the fire.

A murmur went up among the men and sparks filled the air. The line of men that had been winding around the hill to his left began to move toward him, then past him. Jack didn’t see Mike anywhere, so he walked a little farther. He quickly saw that there was no one back there. Behind him, from where he had been, he heard, “Move out, move out, move out!”

Firefighters who had been behind him were beginning to jog down the road. He heard a roar, sparks filling the air. The fire that they’d been chasing was coming toward them, hard and fast. In front of him was dense smoke, behind him—the logging road from whence he’d come, and to his left, a deep ravine. He turned to move out down the road when there was a blast—an ignited tree that had been burning exploded about ten feet into the forest and sent a shower of sparks and debris over the road in a huge flash. A two-hundred-foot sequoia was on fire not five feet away from where he stood. He took a dive in the direction of the ravine and began to crawl madly toward it as a burning tree came down and flames shot over his head.



At the command to move out, the firefighters and volunteers were being quickly herded back down the hill to the road, where trucks were waiting to evacuate them. Paul was craning his neck, looking for Jack. He’d seen him move into the trees, but he wasn’t back yet. Then sparks began to fly and a roaring sound could be heard. Mike Valenzuela jumped up on the truck beside some of his boys. “Where’s Jack?” Paul asked him.

“Haven’t seen him.” He looked around. “One of the other trucks?”

Paul jumped out of the truck and started back up the road, but he was grabbed by the crew chief and pushed toward the truck.

“One of our boys is in there,” he said.

“There’s no one in there,” the chief said. “Everyone was cleared out.”

“I saw him go in that direction!”

“There’s no one back there, buddy.”

“I saw him!”

“If there’s anyone there, they’ll get him,” he said, pointing to a long line of firefighters making fast tracks out of the burning forest. Right at the back of their column was an explosion, sending debris and sparks flying over their heads. Paul found himself shoved into the truck, landing in a heap, while their captain yelled, “Let’s go! Move out!” And the truck jerked into motion.

Paul sat up in the bed of the truck and watched as all these yellow-clad, hard-hatted men scrambled into the next truck, and then a third, and as each one filled up, they drove pell-mell down the logging road to the asphalt. He had to be in one of those other trucks, Paul thought. He had to be.

Two planes flew in low, dumping retardant on the fire, a bright red powder. Flames leaped toward the aircraft as they disappeared over the forest.

When they got to the safety zone, the marines began looking for Jack, going to every truck, but he was nowhere. Paul told the captain what he’d seen, that Jack might still be back there.

“Buddy, if he didn’t get out with that last crew, he might not’ve gotten out.”

Panicked, Paul said to Joe, “We have to find him, man.”

“Where are we going to look, huh? It’s coming this way.”

“He’s got to be around here somewhere.” Paul grabbed the firefighter’s arm. “Was there any other way out?”

He just shook his head. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

“There has to be another way out. He wouldn’t do that—he wouldn’t go in there if it was too hot. He’s too smart for that!”

“Pal, the wind shifted and ate up acres in minutes. We’re just going to have to wait it out, see if he turns up. He’s not the only one unaccounted for. Search and Rescue is on it.”

“Aw, fuck,” Paul said. He got tears in his eyes. “That wouldn’t happen.” He looked at Joe. “After all we’ve gotten through? That wouldn’t happen, would it?”

“Nah. Couldn’t.”

The firefighters and volunteers moved down the line to a new location, but now that the fire was moving in another direction, away from Virgin River, other crews to the northwest were taking over. A few hours later, the sun setting, the chief was ready to pull his camp out of Virgin River, relocate the base camp and send the Virgin River volunteers home.

“Can’t leave,” Preacher said. “Not till we figure out where he is.”

“No one came out the other side, Preach. And he’s not here. I think maybe—”