The Firefighter Became a Billionaire... and He’s Had Enough!

Chapter 005

After six punishing hours in the back of a fire engine, Derek finally reached hell.

Flames towered above the ridgeline, advancing in a rolling orange wall. Pine trees exploded in the heat, each blast cracking like a rifle shot. Above them, smoke devoured the sky until the whole valley burned beneath a blood-red glow.

And the air, the air reeked of scorched timber, melted plastic, and something else he could not identify. Only later would he understand that it was the smell of houses, cars, and people.

“Derek? Man, Is that you?” A middle-aged firefighter in yellow turnout gear was striding toward him.

Rodriguez Hale. Fire chief of Los Vangees County.

“Yes, sir.” Derek raised a hand.

Rodriguez glanced past him as the rest of the firefighters climbed out.

“Where’s Christian?”

“Behind us,” Derek said. “His truck broke down. He told us to keep going.”

Rodriguez’s expression hardened, but there was no time to dwell on it. He spread a damp, smoke-stained map across the hood of a truck.

“The fire has the county boxed in on three sides. We’ve evacuated three neighborhoods, but we’re still trying to protect the hospital, the high school, and this road.”

His finger struck a narrow line across the map. “It’s the last evacuation route still open. If the fire crosses it, more than two thousand people will be trapped.”

“What’s the wind doing?” Derek asked.

“Whatever it wants. It’s pushing east now, but the forecast says it may swing southwest.”

Derek looked toward the smoke-choked valley. Once the wind shifted, the flames would be driven straight toward the evacuation road.

“I’ll take four men and cut a firebreak along the eastern line,” Derek said calmly.

Rodriguez studied him for a moment. There was no bravado in Derek’s voice, only the calm certainty of a man who understood the risk.

At last, Rodriguez nodded.

“Do it. I’ll take the others to the hospital. We still have more than two hundred nursing-home residents to evacuate. Every minute you hold that line gives us another chance to get them out.”

“Understood.”

Derek turned and called over several of the most experienced men in the unit. None of them asked questions and climbed into another truck.

He quickly shed the gear he would not need, leaving only his grandfather’s pocket watch around his neck. Then he pulled out his phone, and froze.

Twenty-three unread messages. Every one of them was from Erin.

Erin: If you don’t come home after this, don’t bother coming home at all.

Erin: What is wrong with you? Stop acting like a child.

More followed. Excuses. Accusations. Demands.

A heavy wave of nausea rolled through Derek’s gut. He did not read another word.

With a savage snap of his arm, he hurled the phone into the steel footwell, where he can finally be free of those sick games of Erin.

A sharp crack came from below. Probably the screen.

Ten minutes later, they reached the eastern line.

Derek and his crew hit the ground running. No one spoke. The fire was moving. So were they.

Trees came down. Brush was hacked away. Deadwood was dragged clear until bare earth began to emerge beneath them.

Half an hour later, they had cleared the first stretch of road. After another hour, the break extended several hundred yards south. fifteen minutes after that, only a short section remained. 

If they cleared it, the break might be wide enough to slow the ground fire. They might actually hold it.

And then... the wind died.

One moment it was moving through the trees. The next, it was completely gone. The branches stopped swaying. Ash hung almost motionless in the air. The whole valley seemed to fall silent.

A heartbeat later, a blast of scorching wind slammed into them from the southwest.

“The wind shifted!” one of the crew screamed.

Derek spun around. Far beyond them, the wall of flame began to move faster, rising from the forest like some vast creature awakening.

“Damn it.” Derek snatched up his radio. “Rodriguez. The wind has shifted southwest. The fire is accelerating!”

Static crackled through the speaker. Then Rodriguez answered. “We’re moving the last residents out of the nursing home. Could you hold for fifteen minutes?”

Derek lowered the radio and turned toward his crew. “Fifteen minutes! Finish the line and move!”

They nodded and attacked the remaining brush with everything they had. 

But the fire was changing faster than any of them had expected.

Embers that had been drifting in the distance began landing in the dry grass beside the logging road. A flame sprang up at the base of a bush. Derek rushed over and beat it out with his tool. Seconds later, another wisp of smoke rose farther down the slope. Then another.

Derek looked north. Low smoke had swallowed the hillside, blocking everything except the flames directly ahead of them. He could no longer tell whether another branch of the fire was circling behind them. If the northern route had already been cut off, they would be trapped.

“I’m going up to the ridge to check the northern front,” Derek told his crew. “Keep widening the break. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Before they could answer, Derek was already running uphill.

Loose stones slid beneath his boots as he climbed. He covered nearly three hundred yards before hauling himself onto a shelf of exposed rock.

The entire valley opened beneath him. 

What he saw was worse than any hell he could have imagined.

The fire was no longer a single advancing wall. It had spread into a vast orange web, crawling through the valley from every direction. Flames raced down the far slope, moving to cut off the road behind his crew.

Derek grabbed his radio. “Guys, stop all operations! The northern front has come around behind us. Everyone fall back to Point B immediately!”

“Copy!” The firefighters' voice crackled through the speaker.

Derek turned to head back down.

Then a gust tore through the valley, ripping open the smoke for a few brief seconds.

A solitary house appeared below. It was a vacation home, isolated on the hillside roughly six hundred yards away. Trees were already burning around it. Smoke rolled over the walls and poured beneath the eaves, flooding the second floor.

Derek stopped. He raised his binoculars and adjusted the focus.

At first, he saw only a row of blackened windows. Then a figure slammed into the glass on the second floor.

Bang.

The person staggered upright and began pounding both hands against the window.

Once. Twice.

Derek could not see the man’s face through the smoke. But he could see his mouth moving. He was screaming for help.

A second later, the figure collapsed out of sight.

Derek checked his watch. The evacuation road would remain open for seven minutes at most.

He raised the radio again. “Rodriguez, I’ve located a vacation home approximately six hundred yards southeast of the logging road. Confirmed victim on the second floor.”

“That must be the West family’s place,” Rodriguez replied. “They’re not usually there this time of year.”

“I saw someone pounding on the window.”

Silence followed.

Then Rodriguez spoke again. “Derek, the fire is closing off the valley. You need to withdraw immediately.”

Derek studied the ground between the ridgeline and the house. The old access road was still visible, though the brush on either side had already begun to burn. He measured the distance, the wind, and the narrowing route back.

“I’m going down to confirm,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

“Derek, are you sure...”

“There’s a confirmed victim inside.” Derek kept his eyes on the upstairs window. “I can’t pretend I didn’t see him.”

Rodriguez’s breathing came heavily over the radio.

“Keep this channel open. I’ll send a truck to pick you up. But the second that fire crosses the northern access road, you pull out. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.”

Derek lowered the binoculars and pulled his mask into place. He checked the pressure on his air tank, then tightened the Halligan bar at his waist.

Heart hammered against his ribs, he dropped from the rock ledge and charged down the slope.

Hot wind hurled ash against his mask. The vacation home drew closer.

Just then, the second-floor window exploded outward.

A blood-covered hand reached through the opening. Five fingers clamped desperately around the burning frame.

A second later, the entire window vanished behind a sheet of flame.