The Man They Blame

Red zone

“It’s true that our job is to save lives, but one thing we need to remember is that we have to be able to come back.” Brett glanced at Derek and gave him a light nudge on the arm. “So if you’re at your limit, you have to pull out.”

Derek looked at him intently as he put on his oxygen mask. He nodded. “Understood, Captain.”

He was temporarily assigned to District 9’s support team, tasked with maintaining the firebreak and assisting with evacuations. The scorching heat as he moved wasn’t a distraction; setting aside the weight on his heart and mind, he focused all his attention on the situation at hand.

After hours of nonstop hard work—clearing burned-out brush and holding the defensive line near the highway—the team was completely exhausted, their energy severely depleted.

Before they could even take a moment’s rest, a new order came in. The radio crackled, “District 1 has fallen. Morelbu Hills is now in the red zone.”

Morelbu Hills, one of the most prosperous areas in Los Vangees County, filled with private plantations and luxury resorts, was now directly in the path of the fire due to a sudden shift in wind direction and had become the most dangerous sector of the blaze.

“District 9, copy that. Move out immediately.” Derek acknowledged the call.

As if they hadn’t felt any fatigue before, Derek’s team immediately headed to District 1. When they arrived at the staging area, the scene there looked like the apocalypse. The rescue workers stared at the place in disbelief, frozen in their tracks.

The mountain slopes were charred black; the air was thick with ash and the smell of burning wood. Fire trucks, ambulances, triage tents, and news vans were crammed together. Survivors huddled under blankets, while panicked relatives wept at the registration desk. On the other side, cordoned off by police tape, was the victim identification area, where several bodies lay covered in white sheets.

Amid the chaos, Derek spotted Erin. “Why is she there?” he muttered under his breath.

She wasn’t wearing any safety gear. She wasn’t there as a volunteer, as she usually was when she appeared in the media. She stood in front of the news cameras, her makeup flawless, her eyes red, her voice trembling during a heart-wrenching interview.

Facing the camera lens, Erin spoke somberly, “This is not a wildfire; this is not an accident, but Mother Earth’s punishment for humanity’s long-standing apathy toward the climate crisis.” The woman choked up in the middle of her speech.

She wept as she recounted how she had spent her life fighting for climate justice, never imagining that this disaster would strike so close to her home.

She gently wiped her tears, then looked back at the camera. “My husband, Derek Moss, a frontline firefighter—he’s out there risking his life. I haven’t heard from him; I don’t know how he’s doing now.”

The woman slumped weakly; her sobs broke out again, and someone beside her quickly held her up. In front of the media, she made herself appear so shattered, so fragile, that those who were there sympathized with her grief.

Trying to stand, she turned toward the other victims. “I can fully understand and empathize with their fear, anxiety, and anguish in the face of this disaster, because I, too, am tormented by the thought of my husband’s current situation out there, saving so many other victims. I truly hope he’s safe. The camera zoomed in as a single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek.

Accompanied by the media and staff, she walked toward the temporary morgue. Although she wasn’t allowed to lift the sheets without permission, she knew exactly how to make a dramatic entrance. “Tell me—is Derek Moss’s name on that list?” her voice trembled as she gripped the arm of the staff member holding the list.

“No, ma’am,” the man replied, and Erin let out a feigned sigh of relief.

This happened repeatedly; she asked in a loud voice, drawing everyone’s attention to her, as she kept checking to see if any firefighters from Vendric County had been killed.

Every time a firefighter shook his head, she smiled painfully, her eyes wet and glistening, only to then show an even more devastated expression in front of the camera. She looked exactly like a wife shattered into pieces and on the verge of collapse.

Watching from a distance, Derek felt a moment of doubt. This was the first time he’d seen Erin cry for him like that. “Maybe she’s not that bad,” Derek muttered softly, feeling a warmth creep into his chest.

He reflected on himself again. “Maybe she’s right—my pride has blinded me to just how much she actually cares.”

Then he smiled as their eyes met; he was sure Erin had seen him. Until, finally, that smile faded.

Derek stood just a few yards away, alive and well, his firefighter’s uniform charred, and his leg still throbbing. He’d thought Erin would at least show a glimmer of relief. Instead, her first reaction was pure panic and revulsion. Derek, standing there breathing, was a real threat to the tragic narrative of the “husband lost in the line of duty” she had just created for national television.

She immediately turned her face away from the camera and shot him a look full of hatred and warning, silently demanding that Derek step away and stay out of sight of the reporters. In an instant, she recomposed her mournful expression, turned back to the camera, and continued her flawless performance.

Derek stood frozen in place. “What did I expect?” His disappointment swallowed him alive.

Derek watched as Erin squeezed out fresh tears. His last shred of hope shattered into pieces. Erin wasn’t worried about him. In fact, if Derek had truly perished in the flames, Erin would surely be overjoyed. A firefighter husband who died as a martyr in a climate-related disaster would be the best public relations goldmine for her foundation, giving it an aura of untouchable tragedy. That realization made his blood run cold.

In that very moment, she steeled her resolve, her hands clenched tightly. “The man who loved Erin more than his own life has perished in this wildfire. The man who will emerge from here is a new Derek. And Erin will have no place in his new life.” She turned away, never looking back.

Suddenly, a new SOS signal came over the radio. Thermal imaging showed signs of life inside a private estate in the Morelbu Hills. The main road was completely blocked by a wall of fire, making it inaccessible to rescue vehicles. District 1 Commander needed a team to hike into the area to find the trapped victims.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Derek volunteered. After checking his gear, he plunged back into the heart of the inferno.

The deeper they went, the fiercer the fire became. The wind howled through the canyon, showering their protective gear with embers like flames from hell. Amid the radio static, the deafening sounds of exploding propane tanks and burning cars echoed throughout the valley.

When they reached the nearly completely destroyed resort area, Derek stopped dead in his tracks. Amid the roar of the flames and the crackling of burning wood.

“Help….” The voice sounded faint.

Derek looked up and saw smoke billowing from the second floor, along with a faint figure moving weakly behind the glass. Gripping his Halligan bar and axe, he sprinted toward the burning house.