Expectant Father Read Free

camp cut him down to size. Admittedly, reality tended to suck after an adrenaline rush like he’d experienced today, leaving him shuffling his booted feet like an old man. Spider imagined the rest of the team felt the same.
    He was ready to fill his belly with a hot meal and grab as much sleep as he could before their next shift. But first the group would have to be checked out by the medics, file some reports and obtain more equipment.
    “We can’t exactly come down out of the woods looking whipped,” Spider observed. Other crews would give them grief. The Silver Bend Hot Shots were a proud bunch, unused to defeat.
    “Nope.”
    “I suppose you think we should do something about it.”
    “Yep.” Chainsaw swung around to grin at Spider again, nearly taking off Spider’s head with his chainsaw.
    Spider ducked and wove to the left. “Couldn’t agree more.”They were a tight-knit group that watched out for each other. Spider had a bad feeling about this fire. It was hungry, and not just for timber and grass. It looked tame, but there were signs that said otherwise.
    If Spider saw Socrates he’d tell him what it was like up on the slopes. He’d tell him about the timber as dry and parched as kindling, just waiting for a spark to set it aflame. He’d point out that the seventy-degree slopes were just waiting to trap a fire team and overtake them as they tried to scramble up to safety.
    He may consider himself some kind of superhero, but his grandmother hadn’t raised no fool. There were adrenaline-pounding risks, and then there were fool’s errands. Spider hoped this fire wouldn’t turn into the latter.
    “It’s not going to look good, us coming into base camp with our tails between our legs.” Logan McCall, the crew’s other assistant superintendent, commented, catching up to them along with Golden.
    “Agreed. Any ideas?” Golden asked, looking at each of the three men as he spun his gold wedding band around his ring finger with his thumb.
    Spider tilted his head from shoulder to shoulder in an attempt to loosen up. “Yeah, let’s head back to the front line and forget all this political BS.”
    Golden looked heavenward. “Sure, let’s head out without Pulaskis.” The combination ax and hoe used to dig out brush as they cleared fuel from a fire’s path was an essential firefighting tool. “Or shovels.”
    “Or gas,” Chainsaw added.
    “Otherwise, I’d have no problem heading back out to a hungry fire,” Golden concluded.
    A hungry fire… Spider couldn’t stop the ominous thought. What was wrong with him? It must be the downside of adrenaline. He had to lighten up. He tried to smile, but only one corner of his mouth seemed to work.
    “They’ll be serving dinner soon,” Chainsaw groused, swinging his chainsaw to the ground. “I can’t believe they didn’t have a transport for us down from the DP.”
    “I can,” Spider mumbled. Not only had the fire teased them today, but the normally anal, almost military-like structure of NIFC hadn’t yet kicked in full force. Case in point: vehicles without gas. Maybe NIFC thought the fire would burn itself out or be contained in a day or two.
    Logan slapped his hand on Spider’s shoulder. “So what are we gonna do about it?”
    “I’m schlepping my tired, filthy butt down the mountain, aren’t I?” Spider made a halfhearted protest. He was sweaty from the oppressive heat beneath the fire resistant Nomex pants and long-sleeved shirt that had protected his skin mere hours ago. What he wouldn’t give for a mountain lake or stream to swim in.
    “Look at all the gloomy faces.” Chainsaw gestured toward the rest of the group, who started to cluster around them, looking just as hot, tired and beaten as Spider felt.
    Normally, he loved being where the action was, making wisecracks to lighten the tension. His Hot Shot lifestyle provided lots of fodder for excitement and amusement, which he gladly spread to keep up team morale.
    So why couldn’t he