Minutes later the crew of eighteen men and two women were on the truck heading out to the first fire in the season. It was about one-hour drive away and didn’t require air support to get them situated.

Jules disembarked with her crew at the drop off point, and she waved goodbye to their driver. From here on out, they’d be on their own. For how long, God only knew. It could be twelve hours, or twelve days.

They carried enough provisions for several days, and from there, they’d receive additional supplies via airdrop, if necessary. She really hoped they wouldn’t be. She liked the first fire of the season to be a small and easy one to get everyone back into form. But since fires tended not to do what was expected of them, they’d have to wait and see.

“Okay, guys. Gather round here. We’ll walk down her flank, cutting firelines in teams of two.” She assigned them in pairs to the two squad leaders until only Tyler remained. She’d wanted to assign him to someone else, anyone, just to get him out of her hair, but professionalism won over. Since he was one of the fastest runners, she’d need him with her. “Tyler, you come with me. We have to march up to the head.” She tucked in her radio and glanced at every single member of her crew. The faces of the rookies expressed a flurry of emotions, while the old-timers tried to play it cool.

But Jules knew from own experience that the first fire of the season was something special. It could make or break a season. If the first fire went well, people tended to be more upbeat and positive throughout.

“Everyone hang on tight to your provisions. Good luck,” she said, marching off and signaling for Tyler to follow her. She regretted being so mean to him in the morning. It wasn’t his fault that her insides blazed up like dry chaparral whenever his dark blue eyes lazily appreciated her body. The satisfaction of seeing him suffer had been surprisingly small and instead a nasty feeling of guilt had gripped her.

They dispersed, everyone concentrating on the task at hand. She and Tyler walked up to the fire head, her brain making overtime thinking about the best ways to contain it. Just when she thought she’d found the perfect strategy, the wind changed and unleashed a flurry of smoke filled air, depositing ash on their heads and shoulders as it fluttered to the ground.

The fire roared and bellowed, a threatening sound getting louder by the moment. A rush of heat seared over her, singed her face, pushed down her throat deep into her lungs.

“Get out into the black, now!” she yelled at Tyler and dashed into the burned area. Even through her Kevlar suit and protective boots, she sensed the heat on the ground and coughed at the smoke lingering in the air.

“Why did we just do this?” Tyler asked, kicking out fire spots with his boots, digging up charred earth with his Pulaski to throw atop smoldering embers.

“Keep one foot in the black and you’ll always come back,” she grinned and recited a hotshot saying.

Tyler nodded with understanding. “I guess, once it’s burned it’s not likely to burn again.”

“Right rookie, come on. We’ve got work to do.” She circled the head of the fire, digging, hacking, slicing, and stomping until they returned to their mates on the other flank.

“Hey Jules, there’s a creek about two hundred yards down,” Castor shouted over the crackling fire and she nodded to see that he’d already assigned some of his team to assemble the mobile pumps.

Water sprayed the earth and plants, drenching the soil in an attempt to stop the very hungry beast from devouring more and more.

“Good. Tyler, you stay with Castor’s team and slice down snags with your chainsaw. Don’t let her get more fuel.”

“Aye,” Tyler answered and swung his saw. Back at base, she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. If he was still pissed at her, he didn’t let on. She allowed herself the luxury of watching him wield the saw for ten or twenty seconds. It was like watching an artist using his paintbrush to produce a masterpiece.

“I’m off to the other team, we’ll meet up further north,” Jules instructed Castor and jogged off along the freshly cut fireline. The weather had been uncommonly warm and dry this year and the entire parched mountain was like one tinder box just waiting to flare up.

Jules reached the other half of her team on the opposite flank and found them fanned out, digging, cutting and sawing like maniacs. She joined their ranks, gulping down half a bottle of hot water, ignoring her raw, blistered hands. It would only get worse once the blisters tore open.

The ever-thickening smoke made breathing difficult. She sidled up with Blondie. “Everything alright?”

“Sure.” The small woman hacked at the earth like two men and looked at her for only a moment between two blows. Her eyes were reddened from the smoke, soot mixed with sweat running down her face. A strand of blond hair peeped out from under the yellow helmet, reminiscent of a distant life, away from the burning fire.

“You need a break?” Jules asked her.

“No.” Blondie focused on her Pulaski, intensifying her efforts to scrape a path down to the bare ground.

“Good.” Jules fell in pace beside her, feeling the brutal effort on her forearms, shoulders, and lower back. Hours flashed by digging a fireline, cutting trees and clearing brush, before she stretched out to give the signal for a short break. Grateful sooty faces looked at her, cramming energy bars into their mouths and gulping them down with vapid hot water from their bottles.

The wind shifted again, blowing back toward the fire, shooting up high towers of flames. The fire continued to play with them, shifting direction every few minutes, threatening to jump across the fireline.

The feisty blaze choked them on the smoke one minute and made their eyes water, giving them a clear vision of the burning monster that consumed everything in its path with the next breath.

Jules yelled out instructions and checked up on the other team via the radio. Castor reported good progress – definitely better than what they were doing here. They had the disadvantage of not having a water source nearby, so all they could do was dig and saw.

Sixteen hours after the alarm had sounded, the hotshot crew had managed to cage the fire in. She wasn’t defeated yet, but tired – as tired as the firefighters. Jules considered sooty faces with bleary eyes, red from smoke and exhaustion.

“Let’s call it a day,” she shouted at them. Their sagged shoulders straightened again with the prospect of food and sleep. When her glance fell on Tyler, another wave of guilt hit her. Despite the tiredness visible in his every move, he continued swinging his tools relentlessly.

When she gave the command to bunk down at a safe distance from the fire, he stretched his back and emptied his water bottle, but didn’t make eye contact with her. So he is pissed, she thought.

Their temporary camp was well behind the fireline they’d created, and another natural fire break provided courtesy of Mother Nature. She counted the team, checked up on injuries, bandaged blisters, cleaned minor burns and disinfected scratches. Then she planned the actions for the next day with her two squad leaders Castor and Troy, while everyone else wolfed down their MRE meals and passed out between the ashes. Nobody had bothered to walk the few hundred yards to a small creek and at least wash their faces. Maybe after some much needed sleep.

Or maybe not.

The fire still roared in the distance.

“We should keep watch,” Troy said.

“I’ll take the first shift.” Jules opened her MRE pack Beef Teriyaki, downing it with an entire bottle of water.

“No, you won’t. You’ll get some sleep. We need you alert come morning,” Castor said. Despite her protest, the two men insisted they’d assign one-hour shifts to the crew to keep an eye on the fire, so they wouldn’t be caught unawares.

She crawled into her makeshift shelter, closed her eyes and instantly fell into an exhausted sleep. She’d get about five hours shut-eye at the most, but years of training kicked in and she knew she’d awake in the morning refreshed and ready for another grueling day of cutting down trees and digging trenches.

Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep, was hope the rookies on her team would be able to put aside their physical aches and pains come morning and get right back to work. They may have passed a physical test a few days back, but this was where it really counted. This was the real test, and failure to pass this one might cost one their life.