Rescued by Her Rival Page 9

  He stepped fully back out of her bedroom then, and to her credit she didn’t chase him, just let go and stood there in the doorway, looking at him with those big, worried eyes.

  “Treadwell wants to understand.”

  “He’s ill. I’m not dumping all this on him.”

  “He’ll be back. And if he’s not, he still deserves to know what he’s been beating his head against. Not understanding what’s shifted in you, someone he clearly values, is unfair to him. It’s unfair to you.”

  Unfair to him? He shook his head, refusing to give that another thought. He’d had two days giving everything he had physically, and no sleep. He needed to sleep. If he couldn’t sleep now, then he’d just gone through all that for nothing.

  * * *

  A siren blast rocketed through the camp about the same time as the troops were normally called to morning PT, and jerked Lauren awake from sleep.

  Heart pounding, one thought came: I’m late.

  Stumbling from the bed, she fumbled to the bureau, not even needing to turn the lights on to see what she was doing. It was early, but the sun had warmed the skies enough to send something brighter than twilight through her window. She could see shapes, grab knobs to the correct drawers.

  Inside, she grabbed blindly and came out with shorts, socks, underthings and a T-shirt, of some random color combination. Her breathing took the form of the kind of labored panting usually accompanying a hard run just from wrestling her uncooperative body into her clothes.

  With no time to fix her hair, or anything else, she grabbed a hair band and her shoes, and made it into the main room about the same time as Beck.

  He looked similarly wild and out of sorts.

  “You overslept too?” She choked the words out while hopping toward the door, trying to cram her feet into her sneakers.

  The question stopped him staggering around and he shook his head. “It’s Saturday...”

  “Saturday?” She fell off-balance, smashing one shoulder into the wall and landing on her bum on the floor as his meaning dawned on her. “We’re not late?”

  “No.”

  “They’re just messing with us?”

  He thought a second, then shook his head. “Doubt it.”

  “But we’re supposed to go to the field...”

  He grabbed his own shoes, looking more and more certain. “That’s what that siren always means.”

  They were either being tested and put off-balance for a reason, or something was wrong.

  She took the time while on the floor to get her other shoe on, and gathered her hair back as neatly as she could in a few seconds, wrapped it in the hair band and was ready to accept the hand up Beck offered as he got to the door.

  “Something happened, didn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  His black eyes had the puffy, sleepy-five-year-old softness of someone who’d slept very hard. At least his midnight confessional had done the trick.

  She probably looked no better, and that would continue if this day was going to go the way it seemed about to go.

  They ran for the field. Others she recognized from earlier in the week before their teams had been deployed to the hellfire up north arrived at the same time, along with the rookies.

  Kolinski jogged onto the field shortly after they got there, and delivered orders. They needed more bodies, but only three rookies had been cleared to go: Beck, Alvarez and Autry.

  It was still a good couple of miles behind the current side-wall, but wind was a crazy thing and with a storm coming in it was definitely going to change directions. The plan was the same as they’d done Thursday—controlled burns to consume the fuel, but somewhat closer, with a jump to reach it.

  Her palms started to sweat, and she did her best to ignore them.

  Not a jump into the fire, a jump to the other side of the fire.

  The fire up north had ravaged the mountains all week and had already chewed through three subdivisions and countless thousands of acres of woodland. Where they’d be going was hard to reach, but might keep it from spreading back in the direction of civilization, and that was as good a reason as any to ignore that voice in her head questioning whether she could do this.

  Not jumping into the fire. The whole mission was skydiving with the goal of digging a lot when she got where she was supposed to go.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  She could do that, even if she hadn’t technically ever done the first bit fully before.

  She’d practiced with the tower all week. With the months of on and off and simulator training when she’d been unable to actually go up in the air.

  Don’t panic.

  “You all right?” Beck’s voice cut through her mental tap dancing to shore up her confidence.

  She managed to look at him like he was nuts for asking, because outward confidence was something she’d learned to fake a long time ago with occasional blips. It was the inner monologue she really struggled with, and tried to never let anyone see, past glimpses that made her new partner suspicious.

  “Of course I am. This is like...a jump! For real. I’m totally ready.” Lie. Lie until it’s true. “Excited!”

  The look he gave her said he bought it about as much as she did.

  When she got into the plane, everything would be fine. It was just the shock of wrapping her head around the new, surprising turn of events. And the realization that she couldn’t unwind this without doing actual damage to her career. Plenty of motivation to muscle through.

  Once she’d made this jump, she’d have that experience she still regretted not correcting on her application. This one jump would set things right, she could actually claim skydiving experience. So it was good. Better than good. She wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder, wondering when they were going to find out she had no experience.

  Even better, if she went up today, she’d get to help stop the fire from plowing into the next inhabited zone. Protect the families there. Maybe stop from happening to some other kid what had happened to Beck.

  The pressure she’d felt in her head suddenly lifted, and her mental pep talk stopped being something she had to convince herself of. She felt it and it comforted her. Mostly.

  She could do this.

  All she had to do was throw herself out of a plane into a great big fire.

  No, near a big fire. Not in. Near the fire. Everything would be fine.

  Then she’d know for sure everyone, including herself, had been wrong about her.

  * * *

  No matter what she’d learned in school, Lauren was now convinced time didn’t flow at anything in the vicinity of a constant speed. She’d blinked and perhaps acquired the ability to teleport or bend time. She was suddenly on the plane, fully suited with people moving ahead of her at a steady pace to exit the small, low-flying cargo plane. Their static lines were clipped along the tethers that would see their chutes open when they exited. In the front were the most seasoned, with the rookies—Alvarez, her and Beck—at the end.

  He was the caboose on this crazy train, moving behind her so she had to keep going. All she knew was a dwindling line of people that stood between her stupid, trembling body and the open air. And that she couldn’t feel her face.

  This wasn’t a situation where people paused and then jumped when they were ready. It was programmed through all training that you leaped as soon as you got to the exit. So the pace? Her heart was the only thing moving faster.

  Alvarez went, which meant it was her turn. She was there at the door, and in her mind she had one leg lifted and ready to spring into the nothing, but instead of tucking, her arms shot out instinctively and grabbed the sides of the port to stop herself.

  From high above, even though they wouldn’t be landing near the thick of it, she could see the bright glowing reds and orange of the fire and the extent
of it.

  Throwing herself into a big fire.

  Something nudged her from behind, not hard, just a suggestion she go, but she pedaled backward instead, plowing Beck back with her until she was a good four feet from the door.

  He shouted something, but she didn’t hear it. All she knew was him suddenly moving around her, and hooking his line back in.

  When he looked at her again, what she saw made her heart fall further than she would have if she’d stepped out. That wasn’t pity she saw in his dark eyes. It was judgment.

  He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and stepped right on out of the plane, which had her hurtling to the portal again and craning to see his chute open.

  There was a certain amount of time in which to jump and stay with your crew. And now she had to go, didn’t she? He’d gone. She was his partner. She was his partner and she was leaving him to go down there without someone specifically watching his back. That was definitely a strike.

  Crap!

  There was no backing out now. She’d signed up. She’d given her word. She’d said she could do the job. If she couldn’t jump now, what good was she? She’d fail, not because someone else thought she wasn’t up to the task but because she wasn’t up to the task.

  Her stomach lurched and the breakfast they’d all inhaled on the bus en route to the hangar rose up.

  If she didn’t jump, they were all right about her.

  The plane tilted a little, starting to turn back. If she didn’t jump now, it was all over.

  Before she could let herself think further, before she could miss that window, she stepped out of the door.

  Immediately her training kicked in. She tucked her traitorous arms and ducked her head so that brief free fall didn’t result in injury or a chute malfunction when it snapped her back and unfurled to carry her aloft over the hellish landscape.

  Breathing was harder than she’d expected, some combination of the wind rushing against her face and how hard her heart beat probably. She gripped the straps of the chute and held up, but kept her face turned into her upper arm for a wind buffer until she caught her breath.

  Time still meant nothing. She could’ve drifted down for an hour or a few seconds, however long it took her to get the hang of breathing, then she let herself look around and appreciate the landscape. The fiery landscape.

  And the distinct lack of any other parachutes in the sky with her.

  Twisting as best she could in the harness, she tried to spot them behind her, but saw nothing. Recalling training advice, she tried to steer herself gently around to spot them, but they hadn’t jumped from high up, and when she got the thing spun the direction she thought she’d wanted, the only thing she saw was fire. Rapidly approaching fire.

  How long had she failed to jump? It hadn’t seemed that long...

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DISAPPOINTMENT HUNG AROUND him longer than Beck hung in the treetop he’d gotten tangled in landing. He’d really expected her to jump. She’d projected such an air of fearlessness.

  She’d still frozen. He should’ve seen it coming, the way she’d paled and babbled over the prospect of it earlier. Got too far in her own head. Psyched herself out.

  He pulled a knife from his belt and hacked through the ropes holding him up.

  The tree he’d hit was two trees past the clearing he’d aimed for, and a quick survey confirmed that the best way down was up one stretch of a branch and around to the back where he could find a better path down.

  He probably shouldn’t have jumped without her. Did that count as a partnership failure? Who even knew?

  He went up and around, using the height to spot where to go to get his suit and supplies. That was when he saw another white chute drifting down, far off target from the zone.

  He’d been the last to jump.

  His heart stopped cold for a second, and then began to hammer and bang around in his suddenly cold, hollow chest.

  It was her. It had to be her.

  He’d barely made the jump window, and they’d been flying toward the fire, that direction had provided the best with the current wind patterns. And she’d jumped late. She’d jumped far too late.

  Damn it.

  He was supposed to be climbing down, getting his gear, getting to work, and instead he gripped the branches, holding on, his eyes fixed on her descent to the fire.

  She was trying to spin it out, he could see the angle of the chute change as she did her best to steer it, including her legs stretching and twisting helplessly. The wind had her.

  She was going down in the fire.

  “Ellison!”

  A voice barked through his comm. He should answer, but it was one more thing to do when he was barely managing the two things most important for his survival: holding onto the branches and following her progress against the burning mountainside they’d jumped to.

  Just when he thought he was going to watch her spiral into the fire, she turned her chute toward the blaze, and straightened out, catching a wind gust. It blew her harder and faster, and maybe farther? Maybe into a pocket?

  God, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was trees and fire as he saw the white canopy of her chute disappear over the burning edge of the hillside.

  “Ellison! Answer.”

  Hands shaking, he continued to grip one branch but managed to press his earpiece and call out his position. “In a tree. Coming down. Does anyone see where Autry landed?”

  He couldn’t see anything else from up there. The only thing to do was get down, get suited, and see if there was a path for him to reach her and get her out of the fire. He could pack a suit for her on his back—she was only in her jump suit, no protection against the flames.

  He wasn’t a praying man, but in that moment he longed for the comfort of such faith.

  Why had he jumped without her? He shouldn’t have jumped. They were supposed to be partners, and he’d just told her less than thirty-six hours ago that he wouldn’t go off on his own.

  “She jumped late,” someone said over the comm. And then, “Spotter said she’s down in a small clearing. Landed hard. Not moving. Not answering attempts to raise her on the comm.”

  No. No. No. No.

  “Is she in the blaze?” he asked through the comm.

  “Not yet. Unless she doesn’t get up and start moving. She has an exit if she’s conscious.”

  He swung down from the tree and scrambled up the downslope he’d landed on to the clearing that had been targeted for landing. His team was there, gathered around the crates dropped with gear and supplies.

  If she was conscious, she could either hike out to the nearest road or to another team—maybe one working the edges of the blaze, not at the safer distance of him and the crew.

  “Can I reach her?” he asked, hurrying toward the group as they gathered around the dropped supplies.

  There was a pause. He reached the group, and Kolinski, owner of the disembodied voice he’d been conversing with, shook his head to his question.

  The wave of terror and adrenaline that had gotten him out of the tree seemed to solidify and turn to lead in his body, slowing his movements, slowing his feet, grinding his thoughts to a complete stop.

  She’d landed where she was bracketed in by the fire. Not moving. Not answering.

  He didn’t even need to ask her why she’d jumped. He knew. God help him. She’d jumped because she couldn’t let herself fail, but she’d also jumped because of him. He’d gone off and she’d chased him.

  If they’d stayed on the plane, there were things they could’ve done—aided the spotters to direct the ground crews about changes in directions of the beast. Gone back to base to pack supplies for extra runs. Mount rescues for those who needed help. She needed help.

  “Ellison. Get it together.” Kolinski whacked the back of his head, jarring his thoughts loose fr
om the spiral they’d funneled into. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Get it together,” Beck repeated dully, the sense of detachment from his body growing stronger with every passing second.

  “I said she’s up.”

  Beck clicked his comm and called her, twice, but got no answer. His breaths were sharp, like knives going through him sideways, and he had to work to shove words through a throat that felt almost closed. “She’s up?”

  “She landed hard. Looks like her comm is busted.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Not sure, but she’s up.”

  “Who are they sending after her?”

  Kolinski looked at him a hard second, then shook his head. “She has a map and compass, emergency supplies in her pack. It’s on her to hike out and she’ll do that. It’s SOP.”

  Not enough. He’d throw away his responsibilities to the crew and go after her at that second if he knew where she’d landed.

  Kolinski seemed to see that on his face too, and thrust a saw into his hands. “You’re cutting.”

  All he could do was nod and make his body start working again, stripping off his jumpsuit and making for the real gear. “I want every update. If she starts going the wrong direction, I’m going after her, even if it’s the end of my job.”

  The lieutenant nodded once, then pointed to the tree-line in the southeast. “We need a wide firebreak. Cut ruthlessly.”

  * * *

  Don’t panic.

  First rule of survival in a bad situation: Don’t. Panic.

  Lauren worked herself free from the lines of her parachute, which had wrapped around her as she’d rolled.

  It wasn’t on fire. She wasn’t on fire. Her hands shook, but her fingers still obeyed when she found the buckles on her chute and got them open.

  How had she rolled through that without catching fire? They weren’t flame retardant... Felt like a miracle.