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Authors: Rachael Duncan

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First and Last

BOOK: First and Last
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First and Last

Copyright © 2016 by Rachael Duncan

All rights reserved.

 

No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation. This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

 

Edited by:

Nichole Strauss with
Perfectly Publishable

 

Interior Design and Formatting by:

Christine Borgford with
Perfectly Publishable

 

Cover Designed by:

Marisa Shor with
Cover Me, Darling

 

Photographer:

Lauren Perry with
Perrywinkle Photography

Table of Contents

First and Last

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by Rachael Duncan

 

To those who selflessly risk their lives and the families they leave behind.

Present

T
hwack . . . thwack . . thwack . . . thwack . . .

The sound of the propellers is music to my ears. It’s the noise I live for and miss during the offseason in the winter months. For me, the blades cutting through the air signals excitement and adventure. Sitting in this small plane with four of my other colleagues, today is no different.

I’m a smokejumper, which means I’m the type of firefighter who parachutes into wildfires, stopping them before they spread. A small one has been spotted in the northern part of the forest here in Redmond. It’s far from posing any real threat to civilians, and it’s our job to keep it that way. But with the drought we’ve been having all over Oregon and the strong winds from today, this thing could go from small to completely uncontained real fucking quick.

“ETA five minutes,” Chief shouts to us, letting us know we’re almost to the drop zone. I give him a thumbs up in response.

Standing up, I walk to the side door, brace both of my hands on either side of it, and lean out the opening. A large, black cloud billows up from the trees and toward the sky, blanketing the ruthless flames I know are below. The wind bends the smoke, sending it south and providing the ammunition it needs to grow.

“What are the wind gusts?” I ask.

“Twenty miles per hour from the north, northeast. It’s tough out there, so make sure you stay above the ridge. You get too close in front of it, you’ll be fucked if it whips around.”

“Roger that.”

A few minutes later, we’re in position and jumping out of the plane. My arms fold over my reserve that’s strapped to the front of me as I free-fall, waiting for my parachute to catch me.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three—

My chute opens, jerking me in the process as it slows my descent. It’s always a good day when your parachute opens like it’s supposed to. Reaching up, I grab my risers and pull on the left one to steer me in the direction of my landing zone. There’s a really small opening in the trees that we’re all aiming for. As long as I don’t hit any crazy down drafts, I should make it. Otherwise, I’m landing in the trees, and that’ll suck balls.

When my feet hit the ground, I’m pumped as adrenaline courses through my veins. There’s no other high like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, and I can’t believe someone
pays
me to do it. I’m quickly pulled back to the reason I’m here as my lungs take in oxygen and protest because of the ash and smoke that’s polluting the air.

We take off our jumpsuits, leaving us in a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt that’s flame retardant with cargo pants. After our supply boxes are dropped in for us, we grab our tools and hash out a plan.

“Alright, let’s get around on its west side, start clearing material and work from there,” my boss instructs.

With our tools in hand, we make the two-mile hike to where we need to be. The closer we get, the thicker the smell of burning wood gets. With each step, I get an ominous feeling that moves up my spine. I try my best to shake it off, to tell myself this is any other day at the office, but the thought won’t leave me alone.

“You alright there, Blake?” Sam asks me. We’ve been buddies ever since we went through the rookie course together.

“Yeah, just feeling weird, I guess.”

“What about?” he asks with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” He slaps me on the back a few times and we keep trekking.

We’ve been chopping away at the small brush for about an hour now. It’s back breaking work, but we’re finally making progress.

I wipe the sweat off my brow with my sleeve before tilting my head back and looking up at the sky. The smoke looks like it’s blowing directly over us. If that’s the case, then it’s likely the fire will start to move toward us, and that’s not a good thing.

“Hey, Chick, you keeping tabs on the wind?” I ask our chief, using his nickname.

“Yeah, reports say it’s coming in from the northeast last I checked.”

“You sure? I’ve been watching and I think it’s shifted.” Both of us look upward through the trees.

“Okay, keep working and I’ll watch it. If it is coming this way, we need to have as much of this cleared as possible, anyway to slow the fire.”

With a simple nod, I get back to work, but this feels wrong. We need to move before we get boxed in.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” I tell Sam quietly as I swing my ax at some more brush. “We need to get out of here.”

“Relax, man. Chick’s watching the wind. He knows what he’s doing.” I try to repeat his words to convince myself, but this small voice inside my head won’t shut the hell up.

Thirty minutes later, we’re still working down the line, but the sound of the inferno is getting louder. I glance over at my boss every now and then to make sure he’s keeping tabs on this. It’s not even two minutes later that he’s telling us we need to move positions. Looking through the gaps in the trees, I see the flames flickering, taunting us, letting us know who’s in charge here.

Without delay, we head back down south to move around and get a better angle of attack on this expanding monster. Sweat runs down my face as the blast of the heat hits me from my left. When everything is this dry, it’s not uncommon for the fire to jump from one tree to the next instead of slowly crawling to it. That’s what’s making me nervous right now. With us being this close, one of these embers could float over and ignite on the other side of us and we’d be surrounded. Then we’d be fucked.

BOOK: First and Last
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