I was a wildland firefighter for the Forest Service during the summer months. I had already done this for two summers, paying my way through college. If our group was called out consistently it would pay for my next year's college. This particular summer, the third and last of these summers, we seemed to be out all the time thanks to the number and intensity of the fires.
For our current fire I was alone as a safety spotter, making sure to communicate any change in the fire's direction and intensity to the rest of the crew as they circled in front of the fire to attack it from the opposite side and were out of direct sight of the fire. It all seemed mundane, we thought this fire was ordinary, a one-day wonder as we called fires like this. We'd be back at base for breakfast the next day.
Something about this fire was different, though. I hadn't seen this combination of fire, wind and geography before. The steep walls of the canyon changed the dynamic. There were gusts of wind that seemed to change direction every minute, bouncing off the walls of the canyon. I radioed in to the fire boss who told me to stay with it and let them know what was going on. The fire was creeping through low grass and small shrubs on the opposite side of the canyon, which was divided by a rippling stream.
I was traversing a ridge to stay ahead and above the fire when the wind changed in intensity and direction and the fire jumped the stream and turned toward me. The wind had begun to circle in a clockwise motion as it bounced off the canyon walls, then it formed a fire whirl of superheated air. It now started uphill in thigh high dry grass, one of the fastest-burning fuels there is. I turned and ran. There was a roaring behind me, a deep bass sound that was getting closer.
My studded boots were no good on rock and I slipped and fell on the slick, bare rock and lay there, stunned, watching the fire come at me in a clockwise whirl, spot fires raining ahead of the main fire from hurled, blazing pine cones and branches. When a swirl passed over me I realized it was super hot gasses that would cook my lungs. I was in the middle and it was rapidly closing around me. As I watched there were colors of all kinds as the vortex changed from moment to moment. It was the most beautiful and most powerful thing I've ever seen. I took a deep breath, turned on my side and closed my eyes, certain I was going to die.
I lost consciousness from lack of oxygen as the fire whirl sucked up all the available oxygen. When it passed, I awoke some moments later and marveled I was still alive. My radio was partially melted, my firefighting outfit singed and burned. Luckily I had turned and shielded my face with my coat sleeve, saving me from severe burns. When I slipped I was in an area that was all rock and I was nestled in a long crevice within it.
The fire had passed around me as it found fuel on either side without touching me as I lay on the barren rock, though the intense heat burned my hands and neck in second and third degree burns. The fire raced up the hill and over the ridge trapping my crew mates. I had survived a blowout. Many of the rest of my crew were not so lucky. Eight of my friends died in a five minute span of time as the fire outran them and eventually grew to three thousand acres in a day.
I hiked out by following the stream that flowed through the middle of the canyon, the land was black and gray; black from the remaining smoldering shrubs and smoking trees now nothing but burnt snags and gray from the ash covering the land. Every footstep raised a cloud of ash. i would pause from time to time to plunge my hands into the icy water to relieve the pain.
I reached a road and, walking down it with a towering cloud of smoke behind me, met a Forest Service crew en route to what was now a major fire. I was brought to the first aid tent where my burns were treated and bandaged. I spent days there for observation and wound care before I spent time in a hospital burn unit. When I was discharged and finally reached headquarters I was congratulated. I had survived an event few would ever see, much less live through. I quit the Forest Service that afternoon, never to return.
My burns to my hands, neck and edges of my face healed in time but I was scarred for life. A long succession of surgeries both surgical and skin grafting procedures gave me use of both hands. I withdrew into a deep depression. I was confused by my survival and as well I had survivor's guilt. Why me and not them? I attended eight funerals and spoke at some of them, still swathed in bandages. Words seemed so empty when compared to the loss of a life.
Six long years passed after that summer. I eventually graduated, stayed to get a masters degree and juggled surgeries, recovery, school and, eventually, work. I didn't make friends very easily. My scars marked me as different and many would move away and never return, especially women. I moved from job to job, looking for something, someone that kept my attention and interest.
This particular night I was alone, drinking margaritas at my favorite Mexican place as I waited for my dinner, still wondering why me and not them. I was at a table for four and a woman came up to me and asked to sit at the table.
"It's so crowded tonight. Is it always like this? Maybe that's why this place is so recommended. Thanks for letting me sit here. My name's Bethany." She put out her hand to shake. My first reaction was to not shake her hand, to not show her my scarred hand which had driven away so many. I looked into her ice blue eyes and took a chance. I grasped her hand and she gave me a firm handshake.
"I'm Walker, Walker Wyatt," I told her.
She had seen and felt my hands. I waited for her reaction. Would it be revulsion? Or pity? Or whatever else that caused so many to leave a similar seat and walk away? She held my gaze and simply said, "Pleased to me you. Come here much?"
"It's my favorite Mexican. It's owned by a Mexican family. They employ about twenty or so, most of whom are illegals who start by washing dishes or bussing tables as they learn English. When they are conversant they move on to the wait staff. I've never had a bad meal. I've met the owners and they are wonderful people. I eat out too much so I've had a lot of middling food. I treasure the good ones."
"I'll come to you for restaurant suggestions!"
I had previously ordered so I flagged down my waiter and asked for a menu for her. She ordered and I told her, "good choices. I think you'll have an excellent meal."
We talked back and forth as first my food came, then hers. We ate until we were stuffed and also more than a little buzzed from drinking margaritas. She looked up and said, "let's go to my place." This was new territory for me. Pre-accident I had been a babe magnet but after the incident my then-girl couldn't deal with the wounds and left. I hadn't been with a woman since then. Years of surgeries and physical therapy didnt leave much time for anything else.
"OK," I said in response. We exited to my car and she gave me directions to her place. I found she lived in a high-end area of town. I found a parking spot in the parking garage and we moved to the elevator. We stepped off the elevator directly into her apartment, if you could call a room with twelve foot ceilings and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city an apartment. It was chic and cozy at the same time. The vibe I got was calm. I had stopped two steps into her entranceway to gawk.
She turned to me and said, "I get that from a lot of people. Come on in." She patted a sofa halfway across the room, "come and sit." She kicked off her shoes, sat beside me and turned to face me. "I like being comfortable." Her gaze never left my eyes as she said, "tell me."
I knew what she was asking. I gave her my practiced summation. It's halfway through this that people's eyes usually changed, from questioning to pity, revulsion, or some combination of both. Her eyes never changed. It was unsettling, so unexpected. She took my hand in hers and squeezed. "It's ok, keep going."
I summoned the will to say more than my usual summation and told her about the day my life changed forever. I talked, I cried, I bowed my head in misery as I remembered the wonder of nature at its most powerful self, the fear I felt, the exhilaration of living followed by the crushing news of the deaths of eight of my friends and the guilt of feeling responsible for their deaths.
She just kept asking questions, slowing me down and asking for more details. I lost track of time. Finally I was talked out. She led me numbly into the bedroom and undressed me for bed. She shed her clothes and lay beside me, holding me. I clung to her having relived those moments more intensely than I had in years. In time, just as the dawning of a new day began, there was peace. I slept.
It was late afternoon before the smell of bacon cooking caused me to get up. I walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to her kitchen. I was still naked and Bethany was as well except for a small apron barely covering her breasts and stomach. She turned to the refrigerator and I saw the back was two crisscrossed strings above her delicious ass. It was beyond sexy.
"I'd say good morning but it's definitely well after that," I said to her.
"I'll say it anyway. Good morning!" was her reply with a smile that just wiped me out. "Just in front of you, open the second drawer and pull out bread for Texas Toast. Put two slices buttered on each side on the griddle on the stove. I pulled out two thick slices of bread, buttered one side and lay them on the griddle where they began sizzling immediately. I carefully buttered the other side, flipped the toast after checking carefully if it was ready and brought them to two small plates. Juice had been poured, eggs and bacon were on two plates and silverware had magically appeared. "Dig in!"
