Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9) Read Free Page B

unburned Doug fir, but no injuries. Eight down and packing their jump gear, two in the trees and moving carefully to make sure they didn’t knock themselves loose and plummet to the ground.
    Last stick, Ox came in as clean as a seasoned pro. He was built on Krista’s scale, big and powerful. He had this weird taste for pixie-sized women about as big around as his bicep. It was a wonder he didn’t break them; they always looked so frail beside him. Hell of a smokie though.
    Krista preferred her lovers to have enough substance for a good tussle. She never dated inside the squad, just wouldn’t do. And finding extra-curricular men up to smokie standards made for sparse pickings, but she didn’t do badly despite not suffering from the modern American image of beauty. Not like high school which had totally sucked.
    Ox’s rookie jump-partner caught the reverse of the bad gust that had treed Ant-man. Instead of losing most of the lift as he approached the drop zone, he was whisked back aloft on a hot thermal.
    Evan Greene was there one moment and simply gone the next. Gone straight toward the fire and not a thing that even the best jumper could do about it.
    Shit!
    “Ox! Jackal!” She grabbed a Pulaski fire axe and bolted into the trees.
    # # #
    Evan had tried a hard turn while stalling the chute to get clear of the thermal, but it hadn’t let him down in time. He was jerked back aloft and the drop zone was now gone behind him—no way to get it back.
    Need alternate landing. You got about ten seconds, Ev.
    Down here near the valley floor, the trees were massive. Snagging a tree two hundred feet up was incredibly dangerous. He’d be as likely to collapse the chute and plummet down as to get safely stuck and then lower himself to the ground.
    The only places not thick with trees were…mostly on fire.
    The tail of the fire didn’t have the towering flames like the ones he’d seen up at the head, but it was still burning outward in all directions despite the lack of driving wind.
    He relaxed the steering toggles to get maximum flight distance. The burning edge of the fire gave him some welcome extra lift, but not enough to turn back. Even though the slap of heat punched right through his gear and the smoke stung his eyes, it bought him a hundred feet up and another few seconds of descent.
    Past the burning edge, he entered the Black—the burned-out forest that was stark with loss of color. Greens and browns had been stripped away, replaced by black char, tree bark scorched gray, and all wrapped in writhing smoke that made it look like a horror movie set.
    The trees still stood, might even still be alive. But without the cushioning smaller branches and foliage—which had all been burned away—the main branches were as brittle and dangerous as blackened spears.
    Despite the wind of his passage, there was a silence above the Black. He could hear the trickling of a stream rolling fast over rounded rocks, a glistening silver line in the gray world. The low fires of the tail now crackled a hundred meters behind him.
    A landing spot.
    Well, not even a spot, more of a narrow slot. A small ridge of rock had kept the big trees clear to either side. The fire had cleared it of brush and saplings.
    He was running with the wind. He flew past his new drop zone and did his best not to look at the fast approaching spires of taller trunks on the climbing slope.
    Evan yanked down on the parachute’s left steering toggle, initiating a braked flat turn and spun like a top right around the nastiest looking of the still standing trees. Then he dove into the headwind.
    As soon as he cleared the leading edge of the opening over the narrow bit of rock, he stalled the parachute hard. The ground rushed up toward him. At the last moment he flared the chute converting most of his speed into lift, and managed to land with just enough impact that he had to do a tuck and roll but was able to regain his feet. A quick twist and he collapsed the chute