Page 86 of Burnin' For You
He got on the radio and called to Pete, and the team on the ground.
“Roger, we see you, Eight-Seven-Alpha-November,” Pete responded.
“What’s your position?”
“We’re on the creek bed, hiking toward Black Top.”
Reuben turned to Gilly. “Let’s get Conner out of here. He’ll drop down, hook up with Pete.”
“I’m going to drop him right on the crash site,” she said, her expression solemn. “I don’t know how fast that fire is moving—flame lengths look to be about thirty feet—so if the wind stirs it up, it could get to them before Pete does.”
Then she looked at him. “And what about you?”
He glanced at Conner, back to her. “I’m staying here.”
She met his eyes, her mouth tight, and he knew she wanted to argue.
Instead, she nodded quickly and started her descent into the canyon, her run along the creek bed to let Conner off.
They descended to three thousand feet, and Reuben spotted Pete and the two others hiking. They waved. Then he unbuckled and headed to the back. Conner had his chute pack and helmet on and was working his way to the door. Reuben hooked his static line into the safety bar then opened the door.
Just for a second, the plane drifted to one side with the rush of air. He held on, used to it, but it didn’t stop his stomach from jumping up, taking notice.
He leaned out and threw out a streamer. Watched the wind take it, send it east. It fluttered to the creek bed.
“Listen—” he yelled as Conner crouched in the door. “I know I should be jumping with you but—”
“I got this!” Conner shook his head, glanced at Gilly. “We all heard you back at HQ.”
Oh.
Conner grinned at him, as if to solidify his meaning.
Perfect. Gilly would be thrilled.
Reuben pointed to the landing zone. “Aim for the creek bed. The crash site is about a quarter mile upriver.” In fact, if he leaned out, he could probably spot it. Instead, he gave Conner a once-over, checking his gear, his helmet, his chute.
Then he tapped Conner on the shoulder, and Conner pushed out into the blue.
He’d strapped on a square chute for more maneuverability in the wind, and in moments it billowed out, a red patch of silk against the green forest below.
Reuben watched as Conner steered himself west, along the creek bed, apparently intending to drop at the foot of the waterfall into the arms of the crash site.
Reuben turned, searching for it, and as Gilly banked for her bombing run, he kept his eyes trained on the ground.
There—a patch of white, a flash of color against the forest.
Right about then, Conner disappeared into the trees.
Reuben closed the door, the roar instantly muted, and climbed back into the cockpit.
Conner’s voice entered his headset, confirming he’d touched down.
“Now it’s on us,” Gilly said, moving toward the smoke. “We’ll do a flyover, see where the head of the fire is, and then hit it crosswise, cutting it off.”
She descended lower, to fifteen hundred feet, the air turning bumpy. “I’m sorry for the rough ride, but I need a test run—to see how the currents affect the plane.”
His stomach had begun to revolt, but he swallowed it down. Closer now, he could see where the fire hadn’t yet consumed the forest and could make out the flames at the front edge, leading the assault. Less than a mile from the crash site, by his estimation.