Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Assess for bleeders.” Ray’s voice calmed him back down.
“Fuck. Bad gash on his thigh. Not sure direct pressure is gonna be enough.”
“Tourniquet.” Linc was already crawling to their supplies, which included a rudimentary first-aid kit. With so much saw work, bleeding was always a risk, so a one-handed tourniquet was part of their gear. He tossed Jacob the kit.
“Fuck. My wrist.” Jacob missed the catch, but quickly retrieved it. Another more detailed check of Garrick’s wounds told him that the tourniquet was the best option. Somehow he managed to get it on.
“Nuh.” Garrick released a pained groan, the first sound he’d made since the accident.
“It’s okay, buddy.” Jacob pitched his voice low and soothing. “We’re getting you out of here. You just hang on. You’ll be okay.”
The last was more prayer than promise, and Linc made a warning noise like maybe Jacob shouldn’t be making any guarantees. Fuck it. Jacob would lie if he had to. Keeping Garrick calm and fighting to survive was the most important thing. He’d lost a fair bit of blood, and shock was the biggest risk right then. Jacob reported the time of tourniquet application to Ray for him to tell the medics.
“There’s a possibility of needing you to shelter in place. Prepare to deploy emergency shelters, but don’t move Nelson yet. We’ve got a crew incoming, but if they can’t jump...” Ray trailed off, voice uncharacteristically thick with emotion. And for good reason. Sheltering in place was a wildland firefighter’s last resort, often with dire results even with the flame-proof tent for protection.
“Jacob can pack out.” Linc had retrieved his own comm set at some point and was talking directly to Ray, not even looking at Jacob who was right fucking there. “Set up the shelters for us and head for the creek—”
“Hell no.” Jacob put a stop to that idea. “We’re a team. No way in hell am I leaving you two alone.”
“Reid might have a point. We’re having a devil of a time predicting the fire with this wind. If we can get you out—”
“Nope. Nothing doing.” On this Jacob was prepared to use all of his well-earned stubborn reputation. “Get that crew here. They’ll need my help packing out with the stretchers.”
“Your wrist—”
“Is fine.” He cut Linc off before he could go giving the impression that Jacob was injured too. “Just get help here.”
“We’re trying.” Ray’s voice was resigned, like he wasn’t going to push again on Jacob leaving, but Linc wasn’t as quick to concede, growling at Jacob.
“Go. You’ve got a good shot at saving yourself, and I want you to take it.”
“You can keep talking or you can help me set up shelters.” Jacob wasn’t losing this fight, and he also wasn’t having it with Ray listening in. It didn’t matter how angry he’d been at Linc earlier, no way was he abandoning him now. He couldn’t switch off his heart that easily.
“I should have an update on the rescue jump crew shortly. They’re en route,” Ray reported.
“Good.” Jacob stared Linc down as he checked on Garrick’s vital signs again. He let out the occasional groan, but he hadn’t opened his eyes and his pulse was threadier than earlier. The tourniquet was holding though so there was that. He covered Garrick with a space blanket before turning his attention to the emergency shelters—each sausage-shaped aluminum structure held a single firefighter and was designed to trap breathable air.
Working together with Linc, who still couldn’t put weight on his leg but who had two working wrists, they fell into their old cooperation and figured out a way to potentially cover Garrick with minimal moving if it came to that. But when Linc switched off his comm set, Jacob knew he was in for another lecture.
“You should—”
“Save it.” Gentling his harsh tone somewhat, he added, “And save your energy. I think you’ve got a concussion.”
“Quit worrying about me.” Linc held up his gloved hands. “I can’t have you putting yourself at this kind of risk when you still have a chance.”
“And I can’t leave you. I just can’t.”
“Why?” That one word seemed to carry all of Linc’s anguish, the grief of the past year, his steadfast refusal to admit to what was there between him and Jacob, his dogged determination to keep to his idiotic plan, and the sadness Jacob had seen in his eyes that morning.
“You know why.” Jacob didn’t break eye contact, held steady, tried to let his gaze say the words he couldn’t. Not here. Not now. He refused to do any deathbed declarations—he wasn’t giving up on their survival no matter what.
“Yeah.” Linc’s shoulders sagged. “Damn it, Jacob. I hate this.”
“I know.” And maybe that was also why he couldn’t say the words. Fearing that maybe Linc didn’t want to hear them, not really.
Making a frustrated noise, Linc lunged for him, hands on Jacob’s upper arms. “Would it help if I said—”