“Reporting for training.” He’d spent weeks now playing this moment over in his head, rehearsing both how cool and calm he’d be and how pissed Linc would be. Stepping to the sidewall, he freed the entryway for others. Linc followed, glower still fully in place.
“The fuck you are.” If Linc was surprised, he had only himself to blame. He’d been scarce all damn winter, only surfacing in late January when May had Willow. The awkwardness at the hospital had hardly been the moment to tell him that he’d finally received the call to report to spring training here instead of with the hotshot hand crew he’d spent the past few seasons with, doing his time, waiting for this day. “When I saw your name on the roster this morning, I about choked on my coffee. And that was before the text from your mom.”
“Sounds like a problem.” Jacob continued to regard him coolly even as other people filtered in around them—fit men and women who would make up this season’s elite forest fire fighting team. He was damn proud to be among them, and Linc was not going to ruin this for him.
“It is. Listen, there’s a list of alternates a mile long.”
“I know. I’ve waited five damn years for my shot. You’re not talking me out of this.”
But Linc continued, thoroughly undaunted. “This early in the season, you drop out, it’s no big deal for them to bring in a replacement. Don’t do this to your mom, kid.”
“Not. A. Kid.”
“You are when you act like one. This isn’t a game or some extreme sport. You can get your adrenaline rush in other ways that won’t break your mom’s heart.”
“She’ll deal.” Jacob refused to soften his stance, even though he did hate how hard she was taking this. Not that he’d expected a parade, but not having a single person happy for him or even a little proud was damn depressing. “And this isn’t some lark. I’ve paid my dues, done my time with engine and hotshot crews, got my certifications, worked my way up, same as you and Wyatt did.”
“Wyatt would hate this.” Linc stared him down, eyes daring him to say different.
“Well, seeing as how he’s not here—”
“Can everyone find a seat? Go ahead and bring your coffee over, and we’re going to get started.” A grizzled older gentleman spoke over the din of the room. Witherspoon Alder, the base manager, was someone Jacob recognized both from the funeral and from his panel interview.
“We’re not done.” Giving him an ominous look, Linc stalked away, claiming one of the folding chairs in the back of the room.
Even without the warning, Jacob didn’t doubt for a second that Linc had more to say. And maybe if he wasn’t always such a hard-ass about it, Jacob might actually listen. But, no, Linc had always, always taken his marching orders from Wyatt. It was almost nine months since the fire that had claimed Wyatt’s life, and Linc was still fighting Wyatt’s battles for him.
“The next five weeks won’t be the most arduous of your life. That’s coming later this summer, the real deal.” Alder addressed the room as Jacob took an empty chair on the opposite side of the room from Linc. “This is life-and-death serious business, and we lost three of our best last year. Make no mistake in what you’ve signed up for—we take pride in what we do, but we never lose sight of the dangers either. Look around you. These are the teammates who will keep you safe, and trusting them is as big a part of our training as anything else.”
Jacob dutifully glanced around the room, noting the varied ages of the participants—returning men and women in their thirties and forties who’d stopped by the house with condolences and casseroles alongside newer trainees like himself. He knew a few of the other newbies from various hotshot and engine crews. Despite Linc’s attitude, no one here was a kid—it took several years of experience fighting on the front lines to even get a shot at a smoke jumper slot.
Alder continued his welcome speech, introducing the various senior personnel who would serve as trainers over the course of the five-week period and outlining the skills they’d be covering. It included far more than jumping out of planes and all that entailed, with exit and landing procedures and all the maneuvering in the air. They’d also cover parachute and equipment maintenance, cargo retrieval, timber management, and tree climbing as well as the work they’d be doing on natural resource projects when not called out to a fire.
“In addition to the physical fitness tests, there are also several pack-out tests to show your readiness to haul gear long distances.” A woman in her late forties with short hair and clipped speech addressed them after Alder was done. “We’re going to start today with a baseline fitness assessment—no one’s going home quite yet, but this will show any room for improvement. Failure to pass the fitness and pack tests at the end of training will, however, be grounds for reassignment.”