raging libido. He’d only known Doug for a few months; no telling what kind of person he really was. Stew grabbed his sleeping bag and the coolers and tossed them into the back of his jeep.
“We’re just going to leave their stuff lying there?” Janice asked, standing beside Rowena’s sleeping bag, looking down at her things like a sad little puppy.
“Come on, let’s go.” Stew hopped into the jeep and started the engine. “The faster we leave, the faster I can come back.”
Sonia took hold of Janice’s hand and led her into the back seat of the jeep. Marco had barely shut the passenger side door before Stew began backing out, turning wide to avoid Rowena’s truck. Once he’d cleared her truck, he made a wide U-turn and sped off, looking repeatedly into the rearview, half expecting to see Doug and Rowena coming out of the woods. It felt wrong to leave, whether he was coming back or not. Truth of the matter was that he was scared. If something had happened to them, it had happened right beside them while they’d all been asleep; and vulnerable.
11
“S tupid morons!” Dale Coffey cupped his gloved hands to his mouth and yelled up at the highway.
Dale watched the jeep full of kids in their early twenties go zooming by, moving well beyond the posted limit. Dale hated kids. Not because he generally disliked them, but because they made his job much more difficult than it had to be. He’d been a fireman for over twenty-five years, four of those as a lieutenant. He couldn’t count the number of calls that had children at the root. They’d been playing with matches, placing fireworks inside something they shouldn’t. Worse than any were the calls due to cigarettes. He himself was a heavy smoker, but at least he pocketed the butts.
“Who are you yelling at?” Fred Earhart could barely hear Dale with their hats blocking their ears and respirators on their faces. And then there was the crackling of the burning wood; the sound of popcorn popping directly inside the eardrum.
“Dumb kids driving like freaking bats out of hell.” Dale motioned toward the empty highway.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re well on your way to becoming a crotchety old man?” Fred laughed, enjoying the burn, as he himself was two years older than Dale.
Dale gave him the finger and motioned toward his unit, all of them soaking the trees at the most western part of the blaze. He looked at the black smoke rising up into the sky, blocking the blue. The woods were filled with an eerie mist, thick despite the wide open spaces. The heat from the fire had died down once they were pulled from the heart of it. Hundreds of fireman from Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana were fighting the blaze from all sides. Not to mention the hundreds of volunteers from all across the country. Dale’s unit, Engine 23 from Billings, had been stationed in the park for the past six days. To say they were exhausted was an understatement. They were grateful for the absence of visitors. The extra available space in the park made it easier for them to rest while staying within close proximity to the fire. He himself had slept in a cabin at Fishing Bridge for three nights and then three nights at the hotel in Lake.
It was a sad affair when it took a devastating fire to get him to spend a night in the Lake Hotel. He’d wanted to stay there ever since he was a teenager. He and his father had gone to the park to do some bonding while fishing the Yellowstone River. They spent most of their time fifteen feet or more apart or fighting. But when they entered the hotel, it always put him in good spirits; a nice peaceful building. He was glad now it was safe from the fire, unlike the Old Faithful Inn. He was fond of that building as well, amazed by its grand woodwork. It would be such a shame to have any damage befall such a landmark.
“Dale!”
“Yeah.” Dale wiped the dirt from his facemask and turned toward the sound of Paul’s voice.
“We’ve been ordered up to
“We’re just going to leave their stuff lying there?” Janice asked, standing beside Rowena’s sleeping bag, looking down at her things like a sad little puppy.
“Come on, let’s go.” Stew hopped into the jeep and started the engine. “The faster we leave, the faster I can come back.”
Sonia took hold of Janice’s hand and led her into the back seat of the jeep. Marco had barely shut the passenger side door before Stew began backing out, turning wide to avoid Rowena’s truck. Once he’d cleared her truck, he made a wide U-turn and sped off, looking repeatedly into the rearview, half expecting to see Doug and Rowena coming out of the woods. It felt wrong to leave, whether he was coming back or not. Truth of the matter was that he was scared. If something had happened to them, it had happened right beside them while they’d all been asleep; and vulnerable.
11
“S tupid morons!” Dale Coffey cupped his gloved hands to his mouth and yelled up at the highway.
Dale watched the jeep full of kids in their early twenties go zooming by, moving well beyond the posted limit. Dale hated kids. Not because he generally disliked them, but because they made his job much more difficult than it had to be. He’d been a fireman for over twenty-five years, four of those as a lieutenant. He couldn’t count the number of calls that had children at the root. They’d been playing with matches, placing fireworks inside something they shouldn’t. Worse than any were the calls due to cigarettes. He himself was a heavy smoker, but at least he pocketed the butts.
“Who are you yelling at?” Fred Earhart could barely hear Dale with their hats blocking their ears and respirators on their faces. And then there was the crackling of the burning wood; the sound of popcorn popping directly inside the eardrum.
“Dumb kids driving like freaking bats out of hell.” Dale motioned toward the empty highway.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re well on your way to becoming a crotchety old man?” Fred laughed, enjoying the burn, as he himself was two years older than Dale.
Dale gave him the finger and motioned toward his unit, all of them soaking the trees at the most western part of the blaze. He looked at the black smoke rising up into the sky, blocking the blue. The woods were filled with an eerie mist, thick despite the wide open spaces. The heat from the fire had died down once they were pulled from the heart of it. Hundreds of fireman from Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana were fighting the blaze from all sides. Not to mention the hundreds of volunteers from all across the country. Dale’s unit, Engine 23 from Billings, had been stationed in the park for the past six days. To say they were exhausted was an understatement. They were grateful for the absence of visitors. The extra available space in the park made it easier for them to rest while staying within close proximity to the fire. He himself had slept in a cabin at Fishing Bridge for three nights and then three nights at the hotel in Lake.
It was a sad affair when it took a devastating fire to get him to spend a night in the Lake Hotel. He’d wanted to stay there ever since he was a teenager. He and his father had gone to the park to do some bonding while fishing the Yellowstone River. They spent most of their time fifteen feet or more apart or fighting. But when they entered the hotel, it always put him in good spirits; a nice peaceful building. He was glad now it was safe from the fire, unlike the Old Faithful Inn. He was fond of that building as well, amazed by its grand woodwork. It would be such a shame to have any damage befall such a landmark.
“Dale!”
“Yeah.” Dale wiped the dirt from his facemask and turned toward the sound of Paul’s voice.
“We’ve been ordered up to
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