Rank 6 Read online

  ©Barry McDivitt, 2018

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

  Thistledown Press Ltd.

  410 2nd Avenue North

  Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, S7K 2C3

  www.thistledownpress.com

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  McDivitt, Barry, 1953–, author

  Rank 6 : firestorm / Barry McDivitt.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77187-162-4 (softcover).–ISBN 978-1-77187-163-1 (HTML).–ISBN 978-1-77187-164-8 (PDF)

  I. Title. II. Title: Rank six.

  PS8625.D59R36 2018 jC813'.6 C2018-904561-2

  C2018-904562-0

  Cover and book design by Jackie Forrie

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Thistledown Press gratefully acknowledges the financial assistance of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Saskatchewan Arts Board, and the Government of Canada for its publishing program.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’m not certain how many forest fires I covered during a thirty-year career as a journalist, but it is probably around 200. Sadly, many friends and acquaintances have lost their homes and almost everything they own to wildfires. On several occasions, while I was covering a fire, the winds suddenly picked up or changed directions and new fires broke out all around. I’d have to beat a hasty retreat and hope the only access road was still open. Generally I would look for an escape route while the Global TV cameramen I was working with would steadfastly shoot video until the last possible moment. I particularly remember the dedication of photographers Steve Beskidny, Jim Douglas and Chris Sobon.

  Of all the government agencies I ever dealt with, at the provincial or federal level, the one that impressed me the most is the British Columbia Wildfire Service. It is internationally recognized as a leader in wildfire management and has some of the most dedicated men and women I have ever met. Every time I went to a fire zone I’d see sweat-drenched, soot-covered firefighters doing everything in their power to save lives and property. At a time when getting even routine information out of government agencies was becoming increasingly difficult, the BC Wildfire Service did everything in its power to make sure the public was kept informed. I was never turned down when I asked for information or an interview.

  I’d like to thank Thistledown for continuing to show faith in me and my editor Harriet Richards for her excellent advice and guidance.

  For my wife Alison — because a good muse is hard to find.

  CONTENTS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  One

  This is what it will look like when the world ends.

  The thought came suddenly to Emily. Once she would have found it disturbing. Now it was oddly thrilling. For a moment she considered sharing it with the others. Emily glanced around the van. There was tension on every face, except for a cheerful boy with Down syndrome. Emily suspected the boy didn’t even realize everyone else was spooked. He appeared to be about thirteen, two or three years younger than Emily and the other campers.

  She was the calmest person in the vehicle, a situation that would have amazed anyone who knew her well. Even Big John, the expedition leader, was finding it hard to keep his composure. He was middle-aged, imposingly tall and broad shouldered. His company brochure described him as ex-military and an expert on wilderness survival. Earlier that morning, at the meet-and-greet in a parking lot, he’d never stopped smiling. Emily thought it was unnatural, even a little creepy Now the smile was gone. He was driving the van and finding it difficult to see through the haze.

  Emily decided not to say anything about the impending apocalypse. Nobody would want to hear her opinion. They never did. She knew perfectly well that she was a loser, but at least she’d always been considerate of the feelings of others. No point in making anyone else feel worse than they already were.

  The van was large enough to hold nine campers and all their gear. Emily sat in the middle of the first passenger bench. The rear-view mirror was directly in front of her. She made the mistake of looking up and seeing her reflection. Emily shuddered and looked away. Her hair was half-curl and half-frizz at the best of times. It was also, as she’d been told by a classmate on the last day of school, an unusually unattractive shade of red. That morning her hair was especially unruly. Her face, already home to a galaxy of freckles, was scientific proof that not all acne medications are effective.

  Being in the middle seat sucked. People you don’t know, and don’t want to know, on either side of you. Not even a window to yourself. Not that there was much to see anyway. The smoke was so thick you couldn’t tell if you were passing houses, farms, or forest. Sitting to Emily’s right was a pretty blonde girl who appeared to be addicted to technology. Big John had taken away her phone and tablet, but her fingers and thumbs never stopped moving. It was as if her hands were playing a game on an invisible touch screen. It was irritating.

  Emily and the tech addict were the only two girls on the trip. They hadn’t exchanged a word and had barely looked at each other. Neither one of them wanted to be there. Emily, normally desperate to fit in, stared at her lap. She’d paid so little attention to her surroundings and companions that she didn’t even know for sure how many other teens there were or what most of them looked like.

  The camper sitting to her left, a boy with a Jamaican accent, was squirming uncomfortably in his seat. Emily assumed he was just stretching. Her own legs, which she considered unnaturally long, were also starting to cramp. But it wasn’t his legs that were bothering the boy. He took an inhaler out of a jacket pocket and began sucking at it in desperation. Emily looked at him with concern, nearly asked if she could help, but caught herself in time and lowered her head once again. The foul air was obviously affecting him badly.

  Big John momentarily took his eyes off the road and turned to the boy. He watched with concern as the youngster wheezed. “You gonna be okay?”

  Although tears were streaming from the boy’s eyes he tried to smile and began to cough.

  For some reason the coughing fit stimulated conversation. Emily closed her eyes, hoping to be ignored.

  A thin voice from the back said, “I heard that most of this smoke came all the way from California.”

  “The fires seem to be getting worse every year,” said a different boy.

  “This is one of the driest summers I can remember,” said Big John. He wiped the inside of the windshield with a huge hand, as if that was going to improve visibility. “I heard there are more than forty fires burning in the province right now. Luckily there aren’t any in this region.”

  Big John was driving slowly because the smoke was so thick he could only see a few metres ahead.

 
“What’s that fuzzy red ball?” Emily recognized the voice of the Down syndrome boy.

  “That’s the sun, Todd,” said Big John. “The smoke makes it look that way.”

  “Did you guys know that fire is the only thing that goes up a hill faster than it comes down?” Emily had no idea who said it, but nobody seemed to care enough to challenge the statement or to agree with it.

  The van felt like it was moving at about the same speed as an elderly person walking their dog.

  An angry voice asked, “Why are we still doing this? It’s obviously not safe to go into the bush right now. We can’t even light a campfire because there’s a fire ban.”

  “That’s all true,” said Big John. He was finding it increasingly difficult to sound cheery. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have a fun and educational camping experience. We’re going to spend the weekend at a private campground.”

  The van was filled with groans and curses. There was a single cheer, from Todd, the kid with Down syndrome. Under normal circumstances Emily would have made a point of talking to Todd and making sure he felt included. However, there no longer seemed any point to being inclusive.

  “We’re supposed to go wilderness camping,” complained a boy. It was a voice Emily hadn’t heard before. “Now you tell us we’re going to a commercial campground. It sounds like the sort of place where my grandparents go with their RV.”

  Big John was getting annoyed. “As it was pointed out, correctly, a few minutes ago, it isn’t safe to take you into the forest right now. This campground is the next best thing.”

  The complainer’s voice now shook with anger. “You just don’t want to give any refunds. I demand that you turn around and take us home.”

  Emily’s opened her eyes in alarm. Everything would be ruined if the trip was cancelled.

  Luckily Big John wasn’t about to back down. “You may have had the opportunity to go camping before, but some of these other kids haven’t.”

  The bickering went on for a while longer, but Emily didn’t pay any attention. Restless, she fiddled with the old blue fanny pack she’d found in the basement. It had probably belonged to her father, who had zero fashion sense. Fanny packs were completely out of style and nobody, except for tacky tourists, wore them anymore. Emily had grabbed it because it was the perfect size to hold the rope.

  She unzipped the pack and reached inside to run her fingers along the nylon rope she’d bought on sale at the dollar store.

  “What’s that?” Big John had heard the zipper and took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at Emily. Kids were always trying to smuggle their phones and other electronic devices into the bush, even though it was forbidden. He didn’t want campers sending texts or playing games when they were supposed to learn how to start a fire by rubbing two sticks together.

  “It’s just some rope,” said Emily, meekly. Surely he wasn’t going to confiscate it. Her two seatmates turned to look at her.

  “Pass it up,” ordered Big John. He’d brought the van to a full stop. She complied with the order.

  “Why did you bring rope?” he asked. Emily sensed that his suspicion had been replaced by simple curiosity. Although she couldn’t immediately think of a logical reply, somebody else could.

  “Rope is one of the most useful survival tools.” It was the same know-it-all who’d said fire went uphill faster than it went down.

  “That’s what I read on an internet survival site,” lied Emily. “I found the rope in our basement and I thought I’d bring it along, just in case.”

  Big John nodded. “I provide all the gear that we’ll really need. But I don’t mind if a camper brings along a few things like a magnesium fire starter or some rope. I don’t let them bring knives. Not anymore.” He frowned, as if remembering something very unpleasant. “Now, everybody shut up and pay attention. I’m pretty sure we’re almost at the campground. I want everybody to keep their eyes peeled for a big sign that says Beaver Creek Campground. It’ll be on the right hand side of the road.” The vehicle started moving again. Slowly.

  Emily couldn’t see anything through the haze, but she pretended to look for the sign anyway.

  “There it is!” Big John sounded relieved. He turned the van onto a bumpy dirt road.

  Todd shouted, excited, “I can see fire.”

  “That’s just the sun again,” snarled the guy who’d demanded a refund.

  “It looks like fire,” insisted Todd.

  “Yes, it looks like fire. I’m staring right at it. It’s the sun!”

  Over the next couple of minutes they passed several RVs heading the other way.

  “People are leaving.” It was the first time the girl sitting next to Emily had spoken.

  “That’s exactly what we should be doing!” It was the same jerk who had just barked at Todd. Emily snuck a peak and saw a tough-looking boy with a nose ring. Emily decided that she didn’t like him, even though he was making some good points. “Nobody in their right mind wants to be here.”

  He was right. Everyone knew it. Except, apparently, Big John.

  Two

  Big John parked in front of a small, shabby building. A sign over the door identified it as The Office. “This is the office,” he said, needlessly, and got out of the van.

  As soon as he was gone the complaints began.

  “This is stupid!”

  “I’m supposed to be building character by roughing it in the wild. My probation officer isn’t going to accept this.”

  “My parents said I needed to get more fresh air.” The comment was followed by a dramatic and totally fake coughing fit.

  Emily was the only one who didn’t say anything. She was on the expedition because her father, who had recently left her mother and was starting a new family, was friends with Big John. The trip was supposed to be a present for Emily, although she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less. Her father was probably getting it for free or at a huge discount.

  Emily noticed that her rope had been left unattended on the driver’s seat. As casually as she could she leaned forward and picked it up. If anyone noticed they didn’t care. It went back into the fanny pack.

  Big John returned from the office. “We’re in luck. They only have one camping space left, but it’s a big one. There’s lots of room for us to put up our tents.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t pull it off. The trip had already turned into a disaster.

  They drove for about ten seconds and stopped in a treeless, hard-packed strip of dirt next to the road. A sign said Overflow Parking. A rickety picnic table and rusted garbage barrel indicated the site was occasionally used for something other than parking.

  “This is nice,” someone muttered sarcastically.

  “It’s all they had left,” snapped Big John. “They’re booked up because of the long weekend.”

  “If we wait just a few more minutes there should be plenty of room,” said the kid who was on probation. “It looks like lots of people are leaving.”

  He was right. A big pickup truck pulling a fifth-wheel drove by. Some campers had decided to pull out early.

  “Those RV sites are too small for us,” said Big John. “We have a lot of gear. Now, everybody out of the van.”

  For a moment it looked like Mr. Nose-Ring was going to refuse to leave the vehicle, but the expression on Big John’s face made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for drama. “We’ll take a few minutes and stretch our legs. Then we’ll set up the tents. Leave your bags in the van for now.” He took out his cell phone and got back in the vehicle to make a call.

  The other campers were forming a bond. Emily looked up just long enough to see there were eight of them. They crowded around the picnic table to bitch about their leader and speculate about who he was phoning.

  Nobody noticed Emily stalk off. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to complaints. The day had suddenly turned windy, kicking up dust and making the barren field even less appealing. It was hard to imagine a less appropriate place to experience
wilderness camping.

  Although many people were in the process of leaving, the campground was still a busy place. There were too many people for Emily’s liking. It would be hard to find the privacy she needed.

  An enormous and obviously expensive RV was parked nearby. The owners were folding lawn chairs and leaning them against the back of the vehicle. A trim grey-haired lady with kind eyes smiled at Emily. “We’ve decided to pack it in. My husband is having trouble breathing because of all the smoke. Besides, we find the heat oppressive. We’re looking forward to air conditioning.”

  Her husband was bald and Emily noticed his sweatshirt was too small to properly cover his bulging stomach. Water streamed from his eyes and he was clearly having difficulty catching his breath. “Normally we love camping, but this isn’t fun at all,” he said, opening an external storage compartment. “The only good thing about this smoke is that it’s chased all the bugs away.”

  A small, white poodle came out of nowhere and charged Emily’s ankles, barking furiously. It had a pink bow attached to the fur at the top of each ear.

  “Stop it, Buttons!” The woman scooped up the poodle. “I’m sorry he startled you. Buttons always plays strange with people he doesn’t know. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.” Buttons growled menacingly, as if trying to contradict his owner.

  Emily wasn’t fond of yappy dogs, but she generally got along with older people. Unlike the girls she knew from school they never told her that she was annoying, stupid and dressed wrong.

  “I’m Anne Rossi,” said the woman.

  “And I’m Eric.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Emily, instinctively reverting to the good manners she normally possessed. “I’m Emily Morrisseau.”

  “I have a granddaughter named Emily,” said Anne. “And our neighbours have a daughter named Emily. She’s about your age.”

  “It’s a common name,” said Emily. The smile disappeared from her face. She’d been on a school trip where seven of the girls were named Emily. The other girls had given them nicknames, including Spicy Emily, British Emily, and Barbie Emily. She’d been Emily L. Because of her height, skinny frame, and long feet, her tormentors had decided that when she turned sideways she looked like the letter L.