A/N: This is a shorter chapter than usual. In case you start wondering how Deb's radio is managing to work in the valley-- at many large wildfires they will set up portable repeaters in strategic locations. These 'devices' boost radio signals to allow communications between all the nooks and crannies of the landscape. Good communications is essential to the safety of the firefighters.
To my PITA—this chapter is dedicated to you, bud. Once promised, never forgotten, I will always have your back. And I'm counting on you to use those celestial powers to always have mine. I miss you.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits made, thanks for letting me play.
From chapter 12:
The truck went off of the road but Deb didn't stop. The metal welded to the front allowed the powerful truck to push through the brush, smashing right through small saplings. They bounced wildly as they moved forward and the sound of cracking wood and branches screeching along the sides of the truck filled the cab. Joined by another screeching.
"SOMEBODY'S SHOOTING AT US?!!" The truck roared back onto the road and slewed sideways, almost going off the other side before she got it under control. Dean understood why she had driven this section slowly just a few minutes ago. At this speed the front of the truck was lifting off from every rut they hit, landing hard on the other side. Sam groaned miserably under him and Dean rested his hand on top of his brother's shaggy hair, helpless to make it less painful. A spray of dirt flew out behind the truck as it slid back around the curve, taking them out of the immediate line of fire.
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Hozho Chapter 13
A heavy fist thumped Dean on the back. "Something you want to tell me?" Deb growled. "LIKE WHY THE HELL SOMEONE IS SHOOTING AT US?!" She grabbed the microphone again and mashed down on the button. "Division C Ops from Lookout 4! Priority!"
"Go ahead 4."
"I had to turn around and head into the valley! Someone's taking pot shots at us!"
There was a moment of silence before a confused voice came back over the radio. "Repeat your last transmission, 4. There are no hotshots assigned to the valley."
Deb spoke through gritted teeth. "Not hotshots, POTSHOTS! Someone is shooting at us!"
Dean lifted his head cautiously while Deb answered the stunned Division head's questions. He was relieved to be beyond the reach of Betzgai's bullets, and incredibly frustrated to once again be facing the smoke filled valley. "Dude, get off!" Sam said through clenched teeth, using his elbows to punctuate each word. Dean hastily sat up and reached a hand out to help his brother.
Sam started to push himself up and drew in a sharp breath. His left hand went to his side and he began to slump forward. "Whoa! Hold on Camille! No passing out on me." Dean grabbed his shoulders and eased him upright. "Easy does it."
Deb dropped her hand into her lap still holding the microphone and turned to look at them with thinly veiled suspicion. "Care to tell me what's going on? Was that a friend of yours?"
Dean patted Sam's cheek gently, making sure his brother was focusing, before he turned his attention to the firefighter. His face morphed from concern to frustrated anger, his eyebrows drawing down and his mouth flattening into an angry line. The woman across from him drew back slightly. She jumped when he punched the door next to him with the side of his hand. "That's the reason we haven't been able to get Sam to a hospital," he bit out.
"We don't know who the hell he is. He found us after Sam got hurt. We thought 'Great! Help is here!' Some help." Dean shook his head and laughed ruefully. "He's a lunatic. About five beers short of a sixpack." Dean laid it on thick, sincerity oozing out of every pore. "He held us in a cave in the valley, ranting about Indian legends." Their father had always taught them to stay close to the truth when possible, especially when there was physical evidence that could bite you on the ass. There was no guarantee the fire would destroy the things they had left stashed near the cave. "We got away this morning when he left the cave. For all we knew the fire scared him out of the valley."
Deb's eyes still searched his face. "Any reason you didn't tell me this when I picked you up? A little, 'by-the-way, a guy who's nuttier than male brownies might be after us'?"
An exceedingly simple and easily foreseeable question, but days of strain were taking their toll. He could spin a tale that satisfied experienced investigators without breaking a sweat, but Dean's mind just didn't want to cooperate and he looked at her blankly.
"He tried. You kept interrupting him. Hasn't been much time to chat." Sam's voice was a low croak, made eminently believable by the obvious pain and exhaustion weighting every word. For the first time Deb's eyes really examined the young man and Dean held his breath. The suspicious woman's cooperation would make things a lot easier.
It was hard mistaking the damp patches on the side of Sam's black T shirt for anything other than what they were, especially when the once white bandage around his right forearm now bore mottled patches of brown and red. Sam leaned his head back against the window behind him with a tired sigh, exposing the long line of his throat. Deb winced at the vivid bruises on his neck and jaw, and her eyes flew to meet Dean's.
"He took Sam first. It took me a while to find them in the cave," he said softly. "He had Sam tied up by then, and…" His voice cracked slightly and he looked away for a moment, clearing his throat before he looked back at her. "He got the jump on me when I got there. Held a gun on me for a while and then just bashed me over the head." He touched the lump on the back of his head with a grimace. "When I woke up he wasn't there."
Her gaze finally settled on Sam's wrists. The skin around both was chafed and raw, testament to the bonds that had held him.
Dean could see the doubt melt off of the woman's face. "What do we do now? Is there a way around that spot?" Dean asked. His face hardened. "I'm not letting that bastard get his hands on my brother again."
"No. The valley funnels through there. This guy," she indicated the radio, "is letting Command know what's going on. They'll see if they can get some cops up here to take this guy out."
"How long is that gonna take?" Dean asked in exasperation. "And what are we supposed to do in the meantime, just sit here?" The backpack was heavy against his leg where it had landed when he shoved it off of his lap. Sam didn't have the time for them to just sit and wait. Dean had the weapons, he knew who he was looking for…
Deb stared through the windshield, biting her lip in indecision. The smoke was a light fog chased through the valley by the wind. The occasional pockets of heavy smoke were becoming more frequent, growing larger and denser. "No. We don't sit and wait. By the time they can get the police up here the fire is going to be too close." She brought the microphone to her mouth in a quick gesture. "Division C Ops from Lookout 4."
"Go ahead, 4."
"It's gonna get a little hot sitting where we're at. How are we looking if I try to run the road out the other way?"
"Hold on, I've already asked command for the latest sit reps to see if we can get you out of there a different way."
"Received." She stared out the windshield lost in thought.
"Well?" Dean prompted impatiently.
"Louie, the guy I'm talking to, is getting the latest situation reports from the command post. They can't get any exact info with all the birds grounded, but we've got lookouts on a lot of the hills who can see parts of the fire, and what they can't see they can make educated guesses about from the smoke plumes." She looked at Sam and worry flitted across her face. The young hunter's eyes were closed and his skin glistened with sweat.
"But an educated guess is still just a guess, right?" Dean pushed. His hand crept towards the extra ammo and the shotgun in the pack. If the Madison Run Road was the only way out that wasn't threatened by fire, then he had no choice but to go after Betzgai himself and clear the way. Having no choice wouldn't make it any easier to leave his brother, though. He stilled his hand when the radio came to life with a burst of static.
"Lookout 4?"
"Go ahead, Louie."
"Negative on going out the other way. She's still backing down the slope between you and the basin, but she's flaring up north of the basin, showing extreme behavior. She's already jumped the water. There's no—"
A lead weight settled into Dean's stomach. That was that. They couldn't get out the other way. He reached for the backpack but stopped when the Division head's voice broke off. Louie's mike was still transmitting but the noises coming across it were too muffled to make out, as though the man was holding it against his leg while he spoke to someone next to him. Dean couldn't make out what was being said, just the staccato firing of an excited voice and the low rumble of Louie asking questions.
"Lookout 4, we've got a situation here." Where the man's voice had been concerned but still calm before, it now vibrated with stress. He knew Deb heard the difference as well. She stiffened and her eyes locked on the radio, as though waiting for a snake to come out of it and strike.
"Go ahead."
"There's a new smoke plume. It's located near Madison Road and growing fast. Doubtful it's a spot fire. Command is sending strike teams there to try and knock it down. You are in danger of a burnover in your current position! Repeat. Danger of burnover in your current position."
"Crap!" Deb said viciously. She actually sounded more angry than scared. The utility box on the back of the truck blocked any view through the window behind their heads. In moves that were so symmetrical they looked choreographed, both Deb and Dean opened their doors and hung their heads out to look at the road in back of them. It only took a quick glance before they were both pulling their heads back inside and slamming the doors. Deb threw the truck into gear and began to roar away from the brown smoke that was billowing around the curve behind them.
"Where the hell did THAT come from?' Dean was trying hard not to let panic tinge his voice. He held his arm against Sam's chest, anchoring his brother in place as the truck bounced around on the rough road.
Sam lifted his head off of the window and looked around in confusion, blinking blearily. "Dean…wha…?"
"Your lunatic buddy must like to play with matches," Deb answered. She lifted the microphone, keeping her other hand on the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip as they barreled forward. "Div C, did the IA crews complete the safety zone in quadrant 2 before they were pulled?"
Dean braced his right hand against the dashboard and worked on making sure his brother was awake while they waited for the answer. Sam was looking at him, but it was tough to tell how focused he was.
"Affirmative 4. Do you need the coordinates?"
"Negative. I know where it is. I'm proceeding there now."
"Received 4. Be safe."
"Will we need shelters?" Sam's question made Dean's stomach drop. It wasn't a good sign when his brother stopped making sense.
Deb shot Sam a surprised look. "No, the safety zone should be enough with the flame lengths we've been seeing. Besides, it's a boulder field. No way to deploy there."
Sam gave her a weak grin. "Good. I've heard about them but never particularly wanted to use one." Dean breathed a little easier. At least Sam was making sense to somebody.
"We'll have to carry shelters just in case…and we're gonna have to run to the safety zone. Can you handle that?" The question was brutal in its simplicity and Dean felt his hackles rise.
"Don't worry about my brother, lady. I'll make sure he gets to where he needs to go."
"It's okay, Dean," Sam said softly. "She had to ask."
"Did the Looney Toon have a car?" Deb questioned. She kept her eyes glued to the road in front of them and spoke through clenched teeth.
"He did," Sam chuckled softly. "Dean found it before he found the cave. Flattened the tires."
Deb grinned with grim satisfaction. "Then we shouldn't have to worry about him. That fire would have taken off as soon as he lit it. A person can't run fast enough to get away from something like that."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Dean muttered under his breath, exchanging a glance with his brother. He looked at the mass of brown smoke in their path and swallowed down a surge of panic. "So what's the plan?"
"Fire crews establish safety zones when they're working. A place they can run to if things go bad. It should be big enough to protect them even if they're surrounded by fire. I'm gonna get us as close to one of them as I can and then we're going to have to run."
"Hell of a plan," Dean said dryly.
"That's best case," Deb grunted, ignoring his sarcasm. "Worst case is I can't get close and then we pick a section of the stream bed and you get a two second lesson on shelter deployment."
"Oh."
"Yeah. 'Oh'. Either way, you two are gonna have to do what I say, when I say it. And we're gonna have to haul ass."
The brothers exchanged a longer look this time, Dean silently asking his brother if he was up to it. Sam straightened up in the seat and answered Dean's question with a steady and determined look. Dean gave him a quick nod in acknowledgement. A surge of pride went through Dean and he looked away, blinking his eyes. Damn smoke was getting to him again.
"If you're the prayin' type now would be a good time," Deb said gruffly.
The smoke was thickening around the outside of the truck as they got deeper into the valley, cutting their visibility down to almost nothing. Flickers of orange were becoming visible off to their left, growing brighter and higher with each second that passed. The roar that had been muted at a distance filled the air around them. It sounded like a platoon of freight trains was bearing down on them.
"We have to make it through where the valley narrows," she explained as an afterthought.
It was dark inside the truck, the smoke throwing a blanket over them. It pressed in on them closer and closer, a choking brown mass that seemed intent on stopping them. Dean wasn't sure how Deb was managing to keep them on the old fire road. He was sure his fingers were going to leave dents on the dashboard, he was gripping it so tightly.
"Jesus," he breathed out softly. His mouth went dry and his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him.
A trick of the wind lifted most of the smoke from in front of them, channeling it up into the convection column rising from the monster they faced. The fire on Rockytop had reached the edge of the cleared area left by the fire crews. It was consuming the trees there with a ferocity that took Dean's breath away. It was a roiling, living creature. Brilliant oranges and reds and yellows that sheathed the trees and joined to form a mass of fire that boiled in the sky for dozens of feet above the treetops. Smoke so dark it almost looked black billowed above it, rising to form a thick thundercloud in the sky. The underside of the smoke cloud was painted an eerie red, reflecting the face of the fire.
It was beautiful. And powerful. And terrifying.
And they were heading right towards it.
He tore his eyes away from the massive fire to look at his brother. Sam's eyes were wide and his throat was working as though he was swallowing convulsively. His face was painted orange by the firelight. Sam turned to face Dean as though he could feel his brother's gaze on him. "Got any marshmallows?" he croaked out with a strained smile.
Dean returned the same weak smile. "Bitch," he mouthed softly.
The fire was contained to the left side of the clearing so far. Fingers of flame licked at the ground in front of them, occasionally joined by solid sheets of fire that dipped down from the fireball to curtain the road.
"Hold on fellas, we've got to get past that."
Deb's foot pressed down on the accelerator and the truck surged forward. Dean braced his foot against the floor, unconsciously pushing himself back into the seat as though to avoid the flames. He felt like he was on a rollercoaster into the maw of hell, the fire growing until it seemed to fill the windshield. Sweat began to trickle into his eyes, more from panic than increased heat in the cab. He still held an arm across Sam's chest and he could feel Sam's heart thudding wildly through the thin material of the Tshirt.
And then they were in the middle of it. Flames surged against Deb's window and the roar of the fire made it seem as though the air itself was bellowing in pain. Dean's hand flew up in front of his face when a rope of fire lashed across the front hood of the truck. The increasing assault proved too much for the trees on the right side of the road and they exploded into flame. Dean found himself jumping away from his window, pressing against his brother.
The flames didn't dance or flicker merrily, they beat at the air in a storm of fire. They were fierce and hungry, raw power packaged in heat and light, and ready to consume everything in their path.
As quickly as they had entered the fire, they were out of it. The flames fell away behind them and they were left with swirling smoke around the cab.
It took Dean three tries before he could get any sound come out of his mouth. "Well, that can't have been good for the paintjob," he finally said shakily.
Sam looked shell shocked, staring out the windshield with his eyes wide. He turned his head slowly and looked at Dean as a small smile started to pull at his lips.
A strangled noise pulled their attention to the truck's driver. Her mouth was working but the only sounds coming out were little squeaks. Sam touched her arm tentatively and she drew in a gasp of air, letting it out in an explosion of sound.
"WELL HOLY GOD DAMN!!!! THAT WAS FREAKIN AMAZING!!!"
Sam tilted his head back and laughed and Dean was powerless to stop the huge grin that curved his lips.
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A/N: Something very similar to this actually happened to my best friend when he was at a wildfire in Montana a few years ago. And knowing him, I'm sure his reaction was exactly like Deb's. Which is why this is a short chapter. Since it's dedicated to him, I wanted to end with the character who is channeling him.
Never forgotten 555 be safe