By Nevada Barr
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Extra info for Anna Pigeon 04 Firestorm
Wherever there were two government employees to rub together, a bureaucracy flared up. Anna was beginning to remember the isolation of spike camp almost nostalgically when she finally cornered the Operations section chief and got her questions answered. Short's staying or going was a moot point. Spike camp was due to be demobed. Two of the three crews were coming out tonight and the San Juans would head out the following day. The fire was gearing down. They estimated containment soon. The National Weather Service predicted a cold front due in twenty-four hours with a seventy percent chance of rain below forty-one-hundred feet and snow at the higher elevations.
The foot of the stretcher weighed less and he was both bigger and younger than the crew boss. "Next flat spot. I take the head, Nims, you get the foot. " LeFleur grunted. The vegetation closed in, branches scratching at their faces and arms. The pounding of her heart was the only sound Anna was aware of. Oblivious to anything but the pain in her left shoulder from pulling Hamlin and the small square of real estate directly in front of her boot toes, she trudged on. Quite independently of conscious thought, her mind clicked through numbers trying to find a rhythm to pass the time, keep cadence.
To be in the midst of a conifer forest and not breathe in the heady scent of pine put her off balance. As if one stood at the seashore and couldn't taste the salt air. A thick blanket of duff crackled underfoot. Coupled with the racket of breathing it was deafening. In places the hillside was so steep Anna slid down on her butt, preferring the occasional stickers to falling. Suddenly Stephen stopped and she smacked her head on the end of the litter. "Signal, for Christ—" she began, but he cut her off.
Anna Pigeon 04 Firestorm by Nevada Barr