“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—”
“No. No crazy talk. We’re in this together.” Pulse galloping, he seriously wasn’t sure he could handle whatever desperate thing Linc was about to say.
“You’re really not going anywhere, are you?” Linc held his gaze again, tone suggesting he was talking about far more than packing out.
“Nope.” Jacob answered for all possible meanings. He wasn’t leaving Linc and Garrick here, wasn’t going to abandon his quest for more from Linc either. He could see that now. He was frustrated and angry and fed up, but he still wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Linc had quite possibly saved his life, no thought to his own. And that meant something. Was worth something. And at that moment, he had to believe that they would make it through. On all levels.
“I—” Linc’s words were cut off by the drone of an approaching plane. The sky was still hazy with smoke, and the wind appeared to have changed direction slightly but not died down. He flipped the comm set back on. “What’s the status?”
“Crew did a practice pass. No go. They’re doing another one now,” Ray reported, voice clipped. “Fire is shifting. We’re expecting more reports shortly.”
Never had Jacob prayed as hard as he did in the next few minutes. Not only for himself, but for Linc and Garrick, especially. Garrick might not make it if the rescue crews couldn’t reach them, even if the fire shelters held. His color was awful, a pale greenish-gray, and his skin was clammy to the touch.
“Okay. Four jumpers and cargo are away. They’re being pushed downwind of the drop zone. Could have a hike to get to you, but their spotter is trying to keep them out of the trees.”
Jacob glanced up in time to see little dots on the hazy horizon, each representing all his hopes for Linc and Garrick. Please let them find us in time. Give us enough time to get this right. Next to him, Linc grabbed his uninjured hand, squeezed, and Jacob had to believe something out there was hearing his unspoken pleas.
Chapter Twenty
Linc had been in some close calls before and made it through some harrowing tales, but he’d seldom cared so deeply about making it through. All of them. Garrick, who was going to survive even if Linc had to bargain with a slew of demons to secure his future, and Jacob, who was being an idiot, but was still the idiot Linc needed like the region needed rain. If Jacob wasn’t going to listen to reason and pack out on his own, then Linc was going to make it through if only to shake him for being so damn stubborn. Again. And still Linc grabbed his hand, held on, as they watched the rescue crew parachute in. Somehow all his rules about personal contact on the job seemed irrelevant now.
The shapes got bigger before disappearing, another tense wait for news. Meanwhile, he eyed the emergency fire shelters, knowing there was still a good chance they might be needed. On the ground, Garrick groaned again, and Jacob released Linc’s hand to go check on him.
“We’re getting you out of here,” Jacob told him, far more upbeat than Linc could have managed under the circumstances. “You just hang on, okay? Four jumpers are on their way. They should be touching down any second and making their way here. Wind’s turning. I can feel it. All you have to do is hold on.”
But when back at Linc’s side, his eyes were grave, mouth a hard, thin line. “I’m not lying about the wind, but he’s not going to make it if we can’t pack him out ASAP.”
“He’s a fighter.” Linc had seen many a fighter go down over the years, but it seemed like the thing to say, both for Jacob and also himself because fucking hell this sucked. He hated whatever was going on with his leg, rendering him unable to help Jacob as much as he wanted. And it wasn’t just his leg—his head swam like he’d pounded shots for hours, a massive headache that made talking harder than it needed to be. And the combination of the leg and head meant that the burden of action was all on Jacob. Even if moving Garrick without a backboard were advisable, which it wasn’t, he was too much for Jacob alone to carry, even if Jacob was one of the more fit jumpers. So, here they were. Stuck. Fire bearing down on them. Waiting for—
Crackle. Buzz. The comm set sputtered to life again. “We’ve had contact with the crew on the ground.”