Читать книгу Hot to Touch - Kimberly Terry Kaye - Страница 8

Eighteen months ago

The roar of wind competed against the loud purr of the turbine engine, breaking the silence that otherwise prevailed inside the Twin Otter plane.

Butterflies fluttered in Shane Westwood’s stomach as he sat hunched on the narrow bench, shoulder-to-shoulder alongside six other men, as the plane circled the dark column of smoke that rose from the blazing fire below.

He fingered the Celtic cross around his neck unconsciously, before tucking it inside his beige, Kevlarcoated jumpsuit.

The closer they flew to the billowing smoke, the more anxious he became.

His anxiety had nothing to do with the jump ahead, or the potential danger he and the others faced. Like a junkie jonesing for his next fix, Shane lived for the exhilaration and potential danger each mission would bring. After his first jump six years ago, he had logged in more than 125 jumps; 75 for training and 50 live fires.

No, his anxiety had everything to do with the fear that he wouldn’t make it in time to save his best friend.

“Give us the go-ahead already, damn it,” he spat out tersely into the microphone line in his ear, connecting him to the ground crew.

“The pilot doesn’t have a clear landing shot, Shane…hold your damn horses, man, we’ll get down there!” one of the support crew shot back in response to Shane’s impatient demand. The drama of what was unfolding below was evident in his voice. Jumpers and ground crew alike were feeling the stress.

“Get us a clear shot…time is running out.”

“We have to be at three thousand feet before it’s safe to jump.”

“Aww no…I think I’m gonna hurl!”

When he heard the man next to him moan, a rookie smoke jumper, Shane didn’t bother giving him a second glance—not in the mood to give the rookie a pep talk.

The fact that the rookie was his jump partner for the mission hadn’t sat well with Shane, but they were running low on jumpers as all the other available men were already on the ground.

He knew it was the young man’s first “live” fire jump, and he knew that like most of them, rookie or seasoned pro, he’d either hang on or get the hell out. There was no in between.

No matter how much instruction you had, no amount of training could prepare a man for his first jump into live fire. It was as exciting as it was frightening. And, it was their way of life. Most men figured out pretty quickly if they had what it took to be a smoke jumper.

“Get ready, men, we’ve found a landing spot.”

Shane swiftly stood, motioning for the others to follow. The spotter had identified an opening.

The plane flew with doors opened and Shane peered down, viewing over three hundred acres of red flames crowning the large spruce trees below, as the plane circled around the billowing columns of smoke, trying to find a safe spot for the men to jump.

His heartbeat kicked up a notch, his gut clenching at the sight.

The acrid, sweet scent of wood smoke filled the plane as air rushed in through the open door. Shane and the others quickly donned their masks and flipped down the heavy wire-mesh screens.

An unexpected bump of turbulence hit. Shane swallowed down the nausea that rolled through his stomach. Steadying himself, he grabbed the overhead cable.

The plane lined up for their initial pass over the identified target and the spotter threw the first set of drift streamers out to gauge the wind. The spotter turned to Shane and held up two fingers, giving the team the “go” sign. Everything looked good. Time to roll.

Shane acknowledged the sign, paused and glanced at his temporary partner. When the man nodded, letting Shane know he was ready, he turned back to face the door. As the senior jumper, Shane would be the first man out.

Despite the gear, Shane felt the heat hit his face as he stood at the edge of the jump door, his gaze sweeping the scene below.

When he felt the spotter’s slap on his shoulder, he propelled himself forward, immediately starting a mental countdown “jump-thousand, look-thousand, reach-thousand, wait-thousand, pull-thousand…” he thought, his fingers curling around the rip cord as he jumped from the plane.

Timing it just right, he pulled on the cord, threw back his head and watched his bright orange-and-white-striped parachute balloon open with a smooth-sounding pop.

Shane yanked the toggles and faced into the wind for landing.

Steering his chute away from one of the flaming trees, he felt every muscle straining, sweat pouring down his face behind the mask as he fought against the pull of the wind, his chute violently swaying back and forth.

In less than a minute he’d be on the ground. And once he was, he’d have to hit it running. His concentration was fully on making a safe landing, but soon all other thoughts would have to be shoved to the side.

His best friend’s life depended on it.