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ONE
His enemies had found him.
All this time and they’d come so far. They’d nearly finished it.
Now it would all be for nothing.
The plane dropped about a hundred feet somewhere over the Kootenai National Forest. Okay, maybe it was fifty. Twenty. Booth Wilder didn’t know. Turbulence mixed with dread and exhilaration of what he was about to do left him nauseated.
The six-man crew of smokejumpers was packed in tight. Shoulder to shoulder. All crowded around the windows according to their jump order.
Booth sat with Nova Burns, a thrill-seeking legacy smokejumper with a propensity toward bossiness. Behind them were Finn and Vince, the two sawyers who’d be out front clearing the brush for the crew. Last in line was Logan, the team lead, and JoJo, another seasoned smokejumper.
He glanced at the stoic faces. These jumpers, they had families, homes, lives outside the smoke. Booth wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. Just a WITSEC nobody. No past, no future, just this endless free fall until Homeland gave him back his life.
“You good?” Nova shouted into the side of his helmet.
“Better if Aria didn’t plow through every air pocket like she was flyin’ an F-22,” he yelled over the roar of the engines. “I miss Tirzah!”
“Whatever. Aria is every bit a daredevil pilot. We were lucky to get her from Alaska!” She shouted into her headphone mic, “Hey, Aria! Ever think of becoming a fighter pilot?”
“Why you think I carry a .357 Magnum?” Her voice crackled over the intercom. “I just stick my arm out the window and pew pew pew.”
Laughter filled the fuselage but cut off when the plane hit another patch of turbulence. They slammed down on the cargo. The mirth turned to grumbling.
Vince rubbed his elbow. “For real. If Aria doesn’t take it easy, I’ll have to jump outta this plane.”
“Please tell me someone packed Huggies in the cargo box for Vince.” Their spotter for the day, Eric Dale, laughed over the intercom.
Booth peered out the window. The charred remains of the mountain landscape rushed past at a hundred miles an hour. Thousands of lush green acres lay blackened, ravaged by the wildfire. To the west, black veins of ash pulsed through a crimson expanse.
Somewhere out there in the endless wilderness was the real Crazy Henry from the stories Booth told by the fire.
And Crispin.
Three years since the nuke had gone missing.
Three years since his life had fallen apart.
They’d said his former partner was dead. So why was Crispin here, in Ember of all places?
Was his appearance connected to Earl’s death? Was this where the nuke trail led? If Crispin was playing some deep game, Booth needed to see the board. Maybe finding him would lead him to the nuke, and maybe it would lead him back to himself.
He had to find Crispin. That was the goal. But how? This town was a haystack, and he was searching for the needle blindfolded.
The plane bounced and fell again. Queasiness sloshed around his stomach. His breathing was tight, restricted by the straps on his jump harness. He’d never been so eager to jump from a plane before.
“Still good?” Nova nudged his knee.
“Fine. Just…thinking.”
The plane winged down into a hard turn. They turned their attention back to the windows as the plane circled the fire, giving them a closer look. Two hundred acres of fierce flames shot out from the trees, sending billows of dense black smoke spiraling into the sky. Booth’s chest constricted. The fire raged in every direction.
Eric left his seat from the cockpit and picked his way through the tangle of jumpers. At the door, he attached the restraining line to his harness so that if he fell out, they could pull him back in. Booth had seen it happen once, so he’d never forget the restraining line.
“Guard your reserves!” Eric yelled.
Booth and every other jumper covered their reserve chute with a forearm to protect it from accidental deployment when the door opened. Booth had seen that happen too.
