CHAPTER 1
Viper
Whoosh!
“Goddamn it. A fucking crown fire.” I raked my arm across my face, the fireproof jacket doing little in the way of collecting heavy sweat. With the wind picking up in speed, embers had been swept from a mile away where the fire had likely been started.
Shielding my eyes, I stared at the burning timber. The flames were rolling.
Bam!
“What the fuck?”
The fire had already claimed a thousand acres, firefighters coming in from several jurisdictions. Yet from what I’d overheard, we were only at seventy percent containment.
And the wind was kicking up fast, the smoke becoming acrid.
I heard another inmate’s cry, his exclamation full of fear. It didn’t matter how much training or how many fires we’d worked, the danger remained relentless. One small mistake could mean injury or death.
As the fire continued to spread, I took a quick survey of the area, scanning for the men, including the correctional officer on duty.
I jogged toward where two of the prisoners were clearing brush, trying to create a wide swath.
“Have you seen Officer Dunham?” I barked. While it wasn’t my place, with my experience in the past, I sensed we were about to lose control. If we were caught with a ring of fire, we might never get out alive.
“Duckie Dumbass Dunham?” Bullseye grunted as he continued gathering a load of wood.
The corrections officer was a brutal bastard, but he’d been trained to keep us safe and to get us the hell out of harm’s way when necessary.
Boom!
The rumble of another tree slamming onto the turf jarred the entire area. “We need to find him.”
As if the prisoner cared. He was only involved with the program for the money. He couldn’t care less about saving lives.
I did a quick clean sweep of the area we were told to remain in, unable to find him. The fire was closing in, smoke billowing toward the sky.
The prisoners knew something was wrong, half doubling down on clearing the brush as ordered. The other half acted as if they’dbeen given carte blanche to fuck off. Not a chance. I wasn’t dying on this goddamn mountain.
With no alternative, I started barking off orders.
“Listen up!” I yelled. “We could have a firestorm on our hands. We need to work in unison.”
“Why the fuck are we listening to you?” Draino threw back. He’d earned his nickname by what he’d done to his victim. That he’d been allowed to join wasn’t my call to make. But the motherfucker wasn’t going to be the reason we perished.
Storming toward him, I raised my shovel, hissing when I did. I was taller by a few inches, outweighing him by fifty pounds. If he wanted a fight, he’d get one. Just not here. “You will do as I say. Get the brush back behind the line. Get moving.” When he did nothing but grin, I jerked him off his feet. “Now!”
No one else on the wayward crew or anyone else in prison had seen me this way. I usually kept to myself, ignoring the bullshit and games played by almost every inmate. I was here to do my time and get the fuck out.
At least I could tell by the flicker in his eyes that he knew I wouldn’t hesitate to beat him senseless.
“Okay, man. Fine. I’ll do it.”
I tossed him aside, glaring at every other son of a bitch who’d come closer to where we were standing in eager anticipation of a fight. Without wasting any time, I repeated my orders.
In five minutes, we were working in tandem. Within twenty, we’d made some headway, the wind turning direction.
But there was no sign of Officer Dunham.
