Sentinel
by
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He woke to incredible noise, running feet, shouting men, retardant planes, and a chopper clattering overhead. Jim struggled to his feet to join the circle of men gathering around the dispatcher, who was yelling and waving his arms. "Blow up! Blow up! We need everybody who can move. Grab your gear and move your asses up the mountain. You’ll get deployed from there." On the run, men jumped into moving trucks, riding a short while before they were out and on the trail again. They made a macabre parade, stumbling into smoke and heat, and visible flames. Separated into crews as they went, Jim found himself hacking line between two men he had never seen before. "I was working a dozer down below, but this canyon is too steep. Never thought I’d be on the line," one man explained. The heat bore down like a living thing until they were gasping for oxygen and wiping their streaming eyes. They called for water and it came up from hand to hand, but the container was empty before it reached the top of the line. The foreman cursed, calling again for water. "And this time, get it to the front of the line first. These guys can’t work without water." Time stopped and only pure will moved them up the slope. Chain saws screamed through timber ahead of them, opening up a corridor, and a huge elk came charging past, its eyes rolling in fear as it headed down the canyon. Coughing, short of breath, hardly able to see, Jim wondered how much more they could take, but they kept moving up the hill. The smell moved with them, their own sweat and fear, as rancid as the layers of old needles and mold underfoot. Over it all rode the stench of hair and the flesh of the animals caught in the inferno. When the sweet, sick death registered, Jim tried to spit it out with a dry tongue that felt glued in his mouth. The foreman stopped suddenly, raising his head. Jim stumbled into him, only now aware that the roar in his ears had magnified into one big explosion, pulling at him with a force that sucked away all air, then slamming it back against him. Before he could react he saw a great ball of fire leap overhead, cross the line they had been building, and explode into the tops of the trees on the other side. "It’s crowning!" yelled the man behind him. "Take the lead, Bill," the foreman bellowed. "And run like hell. We’ll be at your heels." They scrambled down the hill followed by the order, "Stay together. Stay together." The heat scorched hair and clothes as they tried to run, but the fire was already a ring closing in around them, with no way out.
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About the Book
Lynn Stewart, widowed and feeling stifled by well-meant sympathy, yet afraid of starting a new life, vows to spend a year redefining herself. Leaving California, her family, and all that is familiar, she returns to the small Montana town where she once lived with her father. Reluctant to leave Boston, Jim Parker must interrupt a successful career in advertising when he inherits the family ranch. Forced to accept the responsibility for a way of life he has tried to forget, he begrudges his involvement in a place rundown and riddled by debt. Jim, desperate for added income, and Lynn, unable to find another job, join forces in expanding the working ranch to include guests. As they make the conversion, they each struggle to face a bittersweet past. When a devastating forest fire sweeps through the mountains, it threatens their fragile future and issues a challenge they are not ready to meet.
About the Author
C.J. Johnson has garnered awards for her essays and short stories. Her major interest is in the novel, allowing a wider scope for developing personal conflict and multi-faceted characters. She has studied with Leonard Tourney, Wayne Ude, Marian Jones, and Tom Legendre, and is a member of Professional Writers of Prescott. Raised in rural Montana, the setting for SENTINEL, she currently lives in Prescott, Arizona.