Chasing Fire Part 33

Lights sparkling, she thought, in her garden, and in her heart. And all the while her friend lived in the terrible dark. "I talked with Irene earlier."

"She's got a terrible load to carry now."

"I went to see her, hoping to help, but ... I can't even begin to conceive what she's lost. The most devastating loss a mother can know. What she may lose yet. Nothing in her life is certain now, or steady or happy. She's burying her daughter, Lucas. She's facing the very real possibility her husband will go to prison. The man she trusted with her spiritual guidance, her faith, betrayed her in a horrible way. The only thing she has to hold on to now is her grandchild, and caring for that sweet little girl must bring Irene incredible pain and joy. "I'm lucky. And I guess I'm enough like you and Rowan to wish there were some way I could fix things. I wish I knew what I could do or say or be to help Irene."

"You're helping her plan the service, and you'll be there for her. That'll matter.

Do you want me to go with you?" "Selfishly yes. But I think it would embarra.s.s her if you did."

He nodded, having thought the same. "If you think it's right, you could tell her I'm sorry for her loss, sorry for what she's going through." "I've made us both sad, and here I was thinking about being happy."

"People who are together get to share both. I want to ... share both with you."

Almost, she thought as b.u.t.terflies on the wing filled her belly. They were both almost ready to say it. Had she said she felt lucky? She'd been blessed.

"Let's take a walk in the moonlight," she decided. "In the garden. We can finish drinking this wine, and make out." "You always have the best ideas."

USING A DEAD WOMAN'S phone to lure a man to his death felt ... just. A man of G.o.d should understand that, should approve of the sentiment of an eye for an eye. Though Latterly was no man of G.o.d, but a fraud, a liar, an adulterer, a fornicator.

In a very real sense Latterly had killed Dolly. He'd tempted her, led her onto the path-or if the temptation and leading had been hers, he had certainly followed.

He should have counseled her, advised her, helped her be the decent person, the honorable woman, the good mother. Instead he'd betrayed his wife, his family, his G.o.d, his church, for s.e.x with the daughter of one of his faithful.

His death would be justice, and retribution and holy vengeance. The text had done its job, so simple really.

it wasnt me u have 2 come bring money dont tell not yet talk first need to know what 2 do meet me 1 am Lolo Pa.s.s Vistor Center fs rd 373 2 gate URGENT Can help u Dolly

Of course, the soon-to-be-dead man called the dead woman. The return text when the call went unanswered had been full of shock, panic, demands. Easy enough to deflect.

must c u face 2 face explain then will do what u say when you know what i know cant txt more they might find out

He'd come. If he didn't, there would be another way.

Planning murder wasn't the same as an accident. How would it feel?

The car rolled in ten minutes early, going slow. A creep along the service road.

Easy after all. So easy. Should there be talk first? Should the dead man know why he was dead? Why he would burn in fiery h.e.l.l? He called for Dolly, his voice a harsh whisper in the utter peace of the night.

At the gate, he sat in his car, silhouetted in the moonlight. Death waited patiently.

He got out, his head turning right, left, as he continued to call Dolly's name. As he continued up the road. Yes, it was easy after all.

"An eye for an eye."

Latterly looked over, his face struck with terror as shadow moved to moonlight.

The first bullet struck him in the center of the forehead, a small black hole that turned terror to blank shock. The second pierced his heart, releasing a slow trickle of blood that gleamed black in the shimmer of light.

Easy. A steady hand, a just heart.

No shock, no grief, no trembling, not this time.

A long way to drag a body, but it had to be done right, didn't it? Anything worth doing was worth doing well. And the forest at night held such beauty, such mystery. Peace. Yes, for a little while, peace.

All the effort came to nothing in that moment when the body rested at the burn site, on the pyre, already prepared.

Reverend Latterly didn't look so good, didn't look so pious now with his clothes and flesh torn and dirty from the trail. A click of the lighter, that's all it took to send him to h.e.l.l.

Flames kindled with a whoosh as they gulped fuel and oxygen. Burning the body as the soul would burn. Peace settled while the fire climbed and spread.

How did it feel to murder and burn? It felt right.

CHAPTER 20

The fire chewed its way east, consuming forest and meadow, its head a rage of hunger and greedy glee leading the body across two states.

Gull dug his spikes into a lodgepole pine, climbing up, up into a sky of sooty red. Sweat dripped down his face to soak the bandanna he'd tied on like a latter-day outlaw as he ground the teeth of his saw through bark and wood.

Logs tumbled, crashed below as he worked his way down.

The blaze they sought to cage danced, leaped nimbly up trees to string their branches with light as it roared its song. He hit the ground, unhooked his harness, then moved down the saw line.

He knew Rowan worked the head. Word traveled down the crew, and the jumpers from Idaho had twice had to retreat due to unstable winds. He heard the roll of thunder, watched the tanker pitch through the smoke. So far the dragon seemed to swallow the r.e.t.a.r.dant like candy.

He'd lost track of the hours spent in the belly of the beast since the siren had sounded that morning. Only that morning, looking into Rowan's eyes as she moved under him, feeling her body rise and fall beneath him. Only that morning he'd had the taste of her skin, warm from sleep, on his tongue.

Now he tasted smoke. Now he felt the ground move as another sacrificial tree fell to earth. He looked into the eyes of the enemy, and knew her l.u.s.t.

What he didn't know, as he set down his saw to gulp down water, was if it was day or night. And what did it matter? The only world that mattered lived in this perpetual red twilight.

"We're moving east." Dobie jogged out of the smoke, his eyes red-rimmed over his bandanna. "Gibbons is taking us east, digging line as we go. The hoses are holding her back on the right flank at Pack Creek, and the mud knocked her back some."

"Okay." Gull grabbed his gear.

"I volunteered you and me to go on south through the burnout and scout spots and snags along the rim, circle on up toward the head." "That was real considerate of you to include me in your mission."

"Somebody's got to do it, son." Those red-rimmed eyes laughed. "It's a longer trip, but I bet we beat the rest of the crew to the head, get back into the real action sooner."

"Maybe. The head's where I want to be."

"Fighting a.s.s-to-a.s.s with your woman. Let's get humping."

Spots bloomed like flowers, burst like grenades, simmered like shallow pools.

The wind colluded, thickened the smoke, giving loft to sailing firebrands.

Gull smothered, dug, doused, beat, then laughed his way through the nasty work as Dobie started naming the spots.

"f.u.c.king a.s.sistant Princ.i.p.al Brewster!" Dobie stomped out the licking flames.

"Suspended me for smoking in the bathroom." "High school sucks."

"Middle school. I got an early start."

"Priming your lungs for your life's work," Gull decided as he moved on to another. "That's f.u.c.king Gigi j.a.pper. Let me at her. She dumped me for a ball player." "Middle school?"

"Last year. b.a.s.t.a.r.d plays slow-pitch softball. Can you beat that? Slow-pitch softball. How does that count for anything?" "You're better off without her."

"d.a.m.n straight. Well, Captain, I believe we've secured this line, and recommend we cut across from here and start scouting north. I'm still looking for crazy old Mr. Cotter, used to shoot at my dog just because the pup liked to s.h.i.t in his petunias."

"We'll beat the h.e.l.l out of old Mr. Cotter together." "That's a true friend."

They ate lunch, dinner, breakfast-who the h.e.l.l knew?-on the quickstep hike, chowing down on Hooah! bars, peanut-b.u.t.ter crackers, and the single apple from Gull's pack they pa.s.sed back and forth.

"I love this job," Dobie told him. "I didn't know as I would. I knew I could do it, knew I would. Figured I'd like it okay. But I didn't know it's what I was after.

Didn't know I was after anything."

"If it gets its hooks in you, you know it's what you were after." That, Gull thought, covered smoke jumping and women.

Murdered trees stood, black skeletons in the thinning smoke. Wind trickled through, sending them to moan, scooping up ash that swirled like dirty fairy dust.

"It's like one of those end-of-the-world movies," Dobie decided. "Where some meteor destroys most every G.o.dd.a.m.n thing, and what's left are mutant scavengers and a handful of brave warriors trying to protect the innocent. We can be the warriors."

"I was counting on being a mutant, but all right. Look at that." Gull pointed east where the sky glowed red above towers of flame. "Half the time I can't understand how I can hate it and still think it's beautiful." "I felt that way about f.u.c.king Gigi j.a.pper."

Laughing, somehow completely happy to be hot and filthy alongside his strangely endearing friend, Gull studied the fire as they hiked-the breadth of it, the colors and tones, the shapes. On impulse, he pulled his camera out of his PG bag. A photo couldn't translate its terrifying magnificence, but it would remind him, over the winter. It would remind him.

Dobie stepped into the frame, set his Pulaski on his shoulder, spread his legs, fixed a fierce expression on his face. "Now, take a picture.

'Dragon-slayer.' "

Actually, Gull thought when he framed it in, the t.i.tle seemed both apt and accurate. He took two. "Eat your heart out, Gigi." "f.u.c.king A! Come on, son, time's a'wasting."

He took off with a swagger as Gull secured his camera. "Gull."

"Yeah." He glanced up from zipping his PG bag to see Dobie in nearly the same pose, reversed with his back to him. "Camera's secured, handsome."

"You better come on over here. Take a look at this."

Alerted by the tone, Gull moved fast, stared when Dobie pointed. "Is that what I think it is?" "Aw, s.h.i.t." The remains lay, a grim signpost on the charred trail.

"Jesus, Gull, looks like the mutants have been through here." Dobie staggered a few feet away, braced his hands on his knees, and puked up his energy bars.

"Like Dolly," Gull murmured. "Except ..."

"Christ, I feel like a p.u.s.s.y. Losing my lunch." Bone-white beneath the layer of soot, Dobie took a pull of water, spat it out. "He started the fire, the c.o.c.ksucker, right here. Like with Dolly." He rinsed again, spat again, then drank. "He did all this."

"Yeah, except I don't think he did this to try to hide the body, or destroy it.

Maybe it's so we'd find it, or for attention, or because the son of a b.i.t.c.h likes fire. And it's not like Dolly because this one's got what's got to be a bullet hole dead in the forehead."

Bracing himself, Dobie stepped over again, looked. "Christ, I think you're right about that."

"I guess I should've taken that bet." Gull pulled out his radio. "Because I don't think we're going to get back to action before the rest of the crew." While they waited, Dobie took two mini bottles of Kentucky bourbon from his bag, took a swig. "Who do you think it is?" he asked, and pa.s.sed the second bottle to Gull.

"Maybe we've just got some homicidal firebug picking people at random. More likely it's somebody connected to Dolly." "Jesus please us, I hope it's not her ma. I really hope it's not her ma. Somebody's got to take care of that baby."

"I saw her mother that day she and the preacher came to thank L.B. for hiring Dolly again. She's short, little like Dolly was. I think what's there's too tall.

Pretty tall, I think." "Her daddy, maybe." "Maybe."

"If I hadn't volunteered us, somebody else would've found it. It's right on the d.a.m.n trail. Ro said Dolly was off it. Right on the trail. The rangers would've found it if we hadn't. It really makes you think about what the fire'll do to you, it gets the chance."

Gull looked out at the red, the black, the stubborn lashing gold. And downed the bourbon.

The rangers let them go to rejoin the war. The fury built up in Gull all the way up to that snarling, snapping head. He channeled that fury into the attack so every strike of his ax fed his anger. This war wasn't fought against G.o.d or nature or fate, but against the human being who'd given birth to the fire for his own pleasure or purpose or weakness.

For those hours the battle burned, he didn't care about the reasons why. He only cared about stopping it.

"Take a breath," Rowan told him. "We've got her now. You can feel it. Take a breath, Gull. This isn't a one-man show." "I'll take a breath when she's down."

"Look, I know how you feel. I know exactly how-"

"I'm not in the mood to be reasonable." He pushed her hand off his arm, eyes hot and vivid. "I'm in the mood to kill this b.i.t.c.h. We can discuss our mutual traumas later. Now let me do my job."