Chapter 5: I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire!

Often it was the kids that suffered for their parents’ actions – stupid, stubborn, or well intentioned.

Richard and Smokey had positioned themselves on a rise that gave them a good view of the inferno advancing from the west. Sometimes air surveillance wouldn’t suffice, and at other times, just wasn’t feasible.

The wind shifted, and flames headed in a totally unexpected direction. It shouldn’t have mattered, because a team from the US Marshal’s Office had swept through the area warning of the coming inferno and assisting with evacuations. But again, there are always unbelievers, some who just manage to miss getting the word, and dilly-dalliers. Early on, Richard was sometimes tempted to write them off as Darwinian mistakes, but they were mostly Americans just trying to keep their homes. More important in this instance, innocents were clearly involved. Children.

The flames were rushing towards a white frame farmhouse that stood between the burn and the partners’ location. Richard was finishing loading their pickup and about to mount up, when Smokey froze and exclaimed, “Kids! I saw two faces in the upstairs window. Bring the truck!”

She started running towards the house, racing the flames while Richard tossed the equipment into the bed and fired up the engine. He slewed the vehicle around and accelerated. The flames were almost to the house when a slim figure raced out the front door carrying a small child and screaming, “Pequeña Mia is still in there, please help us.”

Smokey grabbed the now identifiable preteen girl, pointed to the approaching Richard in their truck, and gasped, “Do what he says...” Then, “Donde esta Pequeña and what does she look like?”

“Pequeña is upstairs in a crib in the middle bedroom. I could only carry Redonda,” the youngster sobbed.

“I’ll get Pequeña,” Smokey assured her and plunged into the now smoldering building. In the specified room, she found a crying toddler, clad only in a disposable diaper. The walls at the top of the stairs were beginning to smoke and char, so Smokey ducked back into the room, grabbed a blanket to wrap the child, and started down.

Outside, Richard braked beside the girl, and knowing most farm kids can drive, he shouted, “Get in front. If you can drive, turn the truck around. Wait for me unless you see flames come out the door. Then drive away as fast as you can.”

As he started through the door, he saw the stairs burst into flame. Smokey fell, but threw the toddler at him. When he grabbed the child from the air, the trailing blanket almost caused him to drop her. Richard spun and bolted for the door and the pickup. Miraculously, the vehicle was positioned, and the frightened girl was behind the wheel with her door open. Richard handed her the toddler and instructed, “Wait for me two minutes, not a second more, then drive the hell out of here! Head southeast.”

He spun and charged into the smoking heat. Smokey was sprawled headfirst down the bottom stairs, her right leg twisted through a pair of balusters. She coughed coarsely as Richard circled, kicked loose a baluster, roughly freed her leg, and threw her over his shoulder – his high collar protecting his neck from the heat already emanating from her Kevlar suit.

Richard ran to the truck, dumped Smokey over the tailgate into the bed, and yelled, “Drive!” as he tumbled in after her. He heard the driver’s door slam and felt the vehicle began to accelerate, throwing him against the tailgate he’d just vaulted. Flattening himself, Richard wiggled forward, and then he began opening Smokey’s suit to let heat escape.