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Wildfire

By Gayla K. Hiss

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PROFESSOR RACHAEL WOODSTON LEANED AGAINST HER Subaru Outback as she studied the data displayed on the small screen of her handheld computer. An ominous chill crept up her spine at the implications. In the distant meadow, below the fire road where her car, a fire engine and a chase truck were parked, a crew of firefighters bravely battled the flames in the early morning light. Yet her data indicated the blaze was gaining momentum. This was the second wildfire in Rocky Mountain National Park in less than two weeks, and the June fire season had only officially begun five days ago. The first blaze, on May 26th, destroyed a backcountry campsite. According to the news reports, a body believed to be Rachael’s former research assistant, Lucas Sheffield, was found in the debris. The cause of the fire remained a mystery and was still under investigation, which frustrated her. Until she knew exactly what had happened to the promising graduate student, she wouldn’t be satisfied. The information might also advance her research and save others from the same fate. She turned toward the cloud of smoke emanating from the firefighters’ location. They needed to know about the escalating danger.


Dylan Veracruz inspected the trench his ten-member initial attack crew had been digging to starve the flames. Their yellow Nomex shirts and hardhats were now covered in ash as they plowed the earth with the grub hoe of their Pulaski axes. The grass fire had been reported at two-thirty that Wednesday morning, which was suspicious without any lightning in the area. His crew had been fighting the blaze for over three hours. They’d been unable to extinguish it with water, so he had directed them to dig the trench to keep the flames from reaching the forested hillside. He hoped the additional crews he’d requested would arrive soon. The extreme drought in the West had turned Rocky Mountain National Park into a tinderbox. To make matters worse, the Alpine Hotshots and other crews were fighting a major wildfire at Yellowstone, over 600 miles away. Dylan’s engine crew was usually the first on the scene to combat smaller fires using water from their rig. With the hotshots gone, his team was now the first and last line of defense in fighting wildfires in the park. They had to do everything necessary to contain the blazes, including digging fire lines, which was usually done by the handcrews. A whistle sounded in the distance behind Dylan. He glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t see anyone through the billowing cloud of smoke. When he refocused on the fire, a machine no higher than the top of his boots emerged from the flames in front of him. It rolled across the scorched terrain like a miniature Army tank. Dylan stared in amazement while it advanced in his direction. As if detecting his presence, the rover stopped and went around him, traveling in the direction of the fire road. It halted about fifty feet away at the boots of a person dressed in firefighting gear, whose face was shrouded by the smoke. Holding a handheld device, the individual knelt in front of the machine, then turned and shouted in Dylan’s direction. “Are you the engine boss?” A woman’s voice. Dylan faced her and straightened his back. “Yes. Who are you?” She rose to her feet and took a step closer, her face still obscured in the haze. “I’m Professor Rachael Woodston with Alpendale University. You and your crew need to clear out. This fire is about to crown.” Dylan glanced at his team digging the firebreak a few feet away, near a cluster of pines. The fire was almost contained. Why would she think it was about to spread at treetop level, beyond their control? He recalled her name on the application for a research permit he’d recently approved. It wasn’t unusual for college professors to request to do wildfire research in the park—but he was the engine captain here, and a research permit didn’t authorize her to give him orders. She slanted her head. “You don’t have much time.” Professor or not, his patience was wearing thin. “Look, Professor, we’ve got a job to do, and you shouldn’t be this close to the fire.” A gust of hot air brushed against him from behind. The wind had shifted. His friend, Rod Clement, who was also his assistant engine captain, appeared from farther down the fire line. He stood under a tree, catching his breath. “The fire is jumping the line up ahead.” Dylan’s gaze darted to the woman. He didn’t want to retreat before they’d extinguished the fire. The woman turned to leave. From under her hardhat, her long red ponytail flared in his direction. Then she shouted over her shoulder. “If I were you, I’d evacuate. That is, unless you want to be barbecued.” With that, she scooped up her toy tank and headed toward the road. Rod’s voice followed her warning. “Whoever that was, she’s right. We’d better get to the safety zone.” At the same moment, Dylan heard a loud crack from above Rod—and spotted a burning branch in the tree.
“Watch out!” Rod glanced up as the fiery limb fell and crashed into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Before Dylan could reach him, two sharp whistles pierced the air. The miniature tank reappeared and sped to the burning branch beside Rod. The rover halted, then spat a watery agent on the limb, immediately extinguishing the flames. The professor who controlled the roving machine was standing in the gray mist. She whistled once again. Her mechanical pet obediently followed as she pivoted and disappeared in the haze. By now, Dylan could feel the escalating temperature. The burning branch was a sure sign the fire was crowning. He quickly helped Rod to his feet and called to the others on the line. “Get back to the rig!”

At the fire station in the park, Dylan stood across from Rod, who was pulling his T-shirt on after the park medic, Trudy Reed, also Rod’s girlfriend, had finished examining him. In addition to being a medic, Trudy was a trained firefighter and sometimes joined their crew for the bigger fires in the park. The freckled blonde with a pixie haircut closed her first aid kit and spoke to Rod, her tone serious. “You’re lucky your shoulder isn’t dislocated or burnt to a crisp.” A layer of ash coated Rod’s face and his wavy, reddish-brown hair, oddly contrasting with his white relatively-clean T-shirt. He ignored her comment and scrunched his face at Dylan. “What was that thing that sprayed the branch?” The professor and her mechanical sidekick had stayed fresh in Dylan’s mind. “A remote-controlled robot, I think.” It was strange how the woman had mysteriously shown up and then disappeared. By the time Dylan and his crew had reached their engine, hauling seventy pounds of firefighting gear on their backs, she was nowhere to be found. Trudy eyed Dylan with a curious look. “A robot?” “It was the weirdest thing, Tru,” Rod interjected. “This woman at the fire line where we were working had this freaky toy Army tank. It sprayed a fluid that put out the fire. Some of it got on my shirt and made it even stiffer than normal. I could barely move my arm.” He turned to Dylan. “Why was she there in the first place?” “She’s a professor at Alpendale U. I approved her application to research wildfires in the park this summer.” He wished he’d gotten a better look at her face so he could recognize her next time. “How did she know that fire was going to crown? Is she a fire whisperer or something?” Dylan recalled the toy Army tank that responded to her whistles. “Her robot must have told her.” Rod’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe she set the blaze.” Trudy responded, sounding intrigued. “They say an arsonist always returns to the scene of the crime.” The word arsonist caused Dylan’s muscles to tighten. He’d never understand it, but some seriously-disturbed people actually enjoyed setting fires and watching them burn, destroying not only the fragile forest ecosystem, but endangering the lives of people and animals as well. Dylan, on the other hand, had been fighting fires since he was eighteen. Before joining his first engine crew in Washington State, he’d had a few scrapes with the law. His youth leader at church, Jenny Matthews, and her husband Chase had mentored him and helped him get a fresh start. He soon discovered that firefighting provided the sense of purpose and discipline he needed, but had lacked growing up. The ten years Dylan had spent fighting fires had made him pretty good at predicting how a wildfire would behave. But the one today at Moraine Park was different. It had resisted his crew’s efforts to extinguish it and accelerated without the usual signs. It took two additional engine crews and a helicopter to contain and extinguish the blaze after it had crowned. As Trudy closed her first aid kit, Rod playfully slipped his hands around her waist. “Hey, babe, how about I come over to your place tonight?” She pushed him away. “Stop it, Rod.” He released an audible sigh. “How long are you gonna stay mad at me?” “That’s up to you.” Turning to leave, she tossed Dylan a parting glance. “I’m finished with him, Dylan. He’s all yours.” Dylan caught the coldness in her tone. He waited until she’d left the room before grilling his friend. “Brr. What was that all about?” Rod’s shoulders sagged as he gazed at the floor. “I’ve had a run of bad luck lately. That’s all.” A red flag waved in Dylan’s mind. “You’re not gambling again, are you?” Guilt sullied Rod’s face more than the ash. “You told me you’d quit.” He grimaced uncomfortably. “I did—for a while. But now I need to recoup the money I lost. I’m flat broke.” With a hopeful grin, he appealed to Dylan. “What do you say? How about helping out your old buddy in his time of need, just until I get my next paycheck?” Dylan hesitated, then groaned as he reached in his pocket for his wallet. “Don’t make me regret this, Rod.”

Wildfires Threaten Rockies this Summer. The headline on the front page of the Saturday morning paper immediately caught Rachael’s attention. Sipping her mocha cappuccino at the Tanglewood Treats Café, she scanned the aerial picture of the latest blaze and the featured story. At least there were no fatalities this time, but the long-standing drought and higher than normal temperatures meant more wildfires were inevitable. Having finished reading, Rachael folded the paper and set it on her table. The sweet aroma of fudge, pastries, and desserts behind the counter teased her taste buds. Why hadn’t she ordered fudge with her coffee? Now the line of customers stretched outside to the busy sidewalk. She gazed through the window next to her at the tourists shopping for souvenirs, clothes, and tempting treats in the alpine village she called home. The tourist season in Tanglewood Pines, Colorado had officially begun. From now until Labor Day, both the town and the national park would be bustling with people. Not that she minded tourists enjoying nature, but she wasn’t crazy about the crowds and congestion. The sun streaming through her window heated her arms under her long-sleeved shirt. She ran a hand over her sleeve, tempted to push it up. It was early June, and because of the heat wave most people were already wearing T-shirts and tank tops. But after all these years, she had grown used to keeping her arms covered, regardless of the weather. Her nose shifted her mind from the heat to the sweets counter again. A tall man with dark hair, wearing blue jeans and a purple Colorado Rockies T-shirt, caught her eye. She’d seen him at the coffee shop before, and around town. His rugged good looks had made an indelible impression on her. He carried a book tucked under his arm, and a coffee and small plate in his hands as he searched for a place to sit in the crowded café. When he turned in her direction, she moved to get up. “You can have my table. I’m finished.” A relieved smile spread across his face as he came over. “Thanks, but I hope you’re not leaving on my account.” She’d come to the café to avoid unpacking boxes from her move a week ago and wasn’t looking forward to going home. His chocolate-brown eyes and appealing expression motivated her to stick around a little longer and enjoy the last few sips of her coffee. After settling again in her seat, she gestured to the book under his arm. “What are you reading?” He placed it and the rest of the items on the table before he sat in the chair across from her. “A commentary on the book of Daniel.” Surprised by his response, she hid her curiosity behind a casual facade. “Sounds pretty dry.” “Are you familiar with the book of Daniel?” She dropped the pretense and answered in a matter-offact tone. “I’m a P.K.—it was required reading when I was growing up.” He tilted his head. “P.K.?” “Preacher’s kid.” “Ah.” A humorous glimmer flickered in his eyes. “Then I’m glad I ran into you. I don’t find many people familiar with the Bible these days.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “It’s been years since I’ve read it. The main thing I remember about Daniel is when his friends are cast into the fiery furnace.” The thick slab of fudge on the man’s plate triggered a craving inside her. His gaze followed hers to his dish. “Want some? It’s too much for one person.” She bit her lip, thinking it over. “Well, if you can’t eat it all . . .” “Here.” He took his napkin, broke the fudge in two, then handed her half. After pulling off a smaller piece, she nibbled it, relishing the sweet taste as it melted in her mouth. He pointed to the newspaper with the picture of the wildfire on the front page. “That was some fire.” “You already read the article?” “No, I’m a firefighter. My crew and I responded to it earlier this week.” Suddenly, she recognized the man’s voice. “Wait a minute, you’re the engine boss from the fire line—the one who ignored my warning about the fire crowning.” His eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the professor with the robot?” Placing the fudge on her napkin, she prepared to get up. “Well, thank you for the treat. Like I said, I was just leaving.” “Wait. I’d like to talk to you . . . about the fire.” His earnest tone stopped her, or was it the disarming look on his face? She dropped into her seat again and broke off another piece of fudge. “What about it?” “How did you know it was going to crown like that? Are you some sort of fire behaviorist?” “I teach wildfire science at the university. I also do research and consult on wildfires.” He leaned back with a wry grin. “So you are a fire whisperer.” She rolled her eyes at the term. “It’s not like I have any special powers or insight. I only know what the data tells me.” “So what’s with your robot?” “It’s a new technology I’m developing for fighting fires.” “By the way, my name is Dylan Veracruz.” He reached to shake her hand. His firm grip enveloped hers with warmth, causing her to briefly focus on his bulging tanned biceps. He released her hand and took a sip of his coffee. “Did your robot tell you the fire would crown that fast?” She shifted her gaze to his face. “My computer model did. The robot’s sensors detected a shift in the wind ahead of the fire line. That, combined with the high temperatures and low humidity we’ve been having, plus the fact that the fire was approaching a hill—and voilà—you have a recipe for disaster. I have to admit though, it accelerated quicker than I expected. There was something odd about that fire.” He nodded, frowning. “I checked, and no storms were in the area when it was first reported. And it was a small, Type 5 fire. We should have been able to extinguish it before it crowned. I don’t claim to be a fire whisperer, but I have a good sense for how a fire will behave, and that one was suspicious.” Rachael glanced around the café then leaned toward him. “I’d like to go there and collect data for my models.” A spark of intrigue lit in his eyes. “Okay . . . Let’s go together and check it out.” The decadent dessert had put her in an agreeable mood. She usually preferred to work alone, but he had authorized her access to the wildfires for her research, and she needed his support. She hurriedly polished off the last bite of her fudge, then pointed to the piece still on his plate. “Aren’t you going to eat that?” She sent him an appealing smile. “If not, I’d be happy to finish it for you.” He cast her a sly look. “No, way. I’m guarding this with my life.” He popped a morsel in his mouth and chewed, closing his eyes blissfully. “Mmm. Delicious.” While he teased her, she realized that his crew had probably responded to the fire at Lucas Sheffield’s campsite. Maybe he could help fill in a few missing pieces of the puzzle. “Speaking of wildfires, what do you know about the one last month?” Her question seemed to have burst his bubble and dropped him back to earth. His brows hovered over his serious expression as he finished chewing. “Unfortunately, it was in the backcountry. By the time we got there, a man had already died. The fire investigator thinks the victim may have started the blaze while he was camping.” The news struck a raw nerve in Rachael. “No, that’s impossible. I knew him. Lucas was a former research assistant of mine. He’d never violate the park’s fire ban, especially in the backcountry. “I’d like to check out his campsite as well.” A hint of reluctance crossed Dylan’s face. “Okay, but we can’t drive there. We’ll have to go part of the way on foot.” “I’d climb Longs Peak if I thought it would help explain what happened to Lucas.” Dylan’s dark eyes twinkled at her mention of climbing the highest mountain in the park. “It won’t be quite that strenuous.” He wrapped the rest of the fudge in his napkin. “I’ll save this for later.” Gathering her trash to throw away, she glanced in his direction. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my car. I have extra food and water. Plus, I want to bring FIDO to sniff around.” He paused getting up from the table. “Dogs aren’t permitted on the backcountry trails.” She waved off his concern. “Oh, FIDO’s not a dog. That’s the name of my robot.”

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