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His grandfather was a firefighter, his dad was a firefighter, his brother was a firefighter, and he was a firefighter.
Well, he was studying fire science at a public college so he could be a firefighter.
There was nothing more satisfying to him than watching the way fire devoured everything it touched. Most were scared of what the flames were capable of, but he reveled in the power the heat held. At school they called him The Pyro, or Pyromaniac. His tendency to dance with the flames left him with a charred reputation, one that was friendless and empty.
His brother was the assistant chief of unit 44, a well-liked man who has given his everything to the art. Everything including his right arm, burned beyond repair in the accident that took the prior chiefs- their fathers- life. His grandfather lost his life in the fire as well, too weak to make it out of the elderly home after he went back for many of the other residents.
Nothing was the same after that.
His brother awoke in the nights, drenched in sweat from nightmares that seared through his mind every time he closed his eyes. He put on a mask when he arrived to the station in the morning, smiling and acting fearless in the face of the nightmare he faced every day. The phantom pains and memories that scarred his brothers mind took a different toll on him.
He shut down, focusing his entire existence on the breath of life that came from fire. In one instant the boy that had grown up on tales of the destruction fire turned into a teenager hellbent on the creation of it. Eating fire, making fireworks, fire breathing, and molotov cocktails. He became as destructive as the fire, consumed by the need to control it.
That was nine years ago.
A graduate with a Bachelor’s in fire science, he was stationed in the middle of Washington in a watch tower. After mellowing out during a Come-To-Jesus where he almost lost his life during a frat party in his senior year of college where he was drunk, and his fire breathing went wrong. He had scarred lung tissue, pulmonary edema, and a 3rd degree burn scar on his face. His voice was now permanently a little raspy despite the speech therapy he went through and the medications he took.
He would never be able to be a firefighter, the smoke inhalation with his damaged lungs was too much of a risk for the force to take. He was now deployed to a firewatch station in a forest in Washington, where it was currently foggy and cold, the dew building up on his hair and dripping onto his cheeks. The weather forecast showed the day to reach about 80 degrees, which was pretty warm thanks to the dry spell at end of the rainy season in Washington.
Leaning back into his red, tattered folding chair, he rest his cheek on his propped up palm. He was expecting another boring, lonely day. It was his 300th day of being stationed out here, and he was already running out of his rations that were dropped off a few weeks ago. They were supposed to last a month, but he had given some of them to the stray cat that he had found and brought into his tower.
Lovingly and sardonically named Molotov, the cat was a raggedy looking calico with a meow that sounded much like his own voice. He suspected that the cat was a survivor from the fire about 40 miles from where he was stationed, just out of his range of view and service.
The cat was currently curled up on a railing of the lookout that reached just above the peaks of the dark spruce trees. A cold wind blew across the forest, sending fog rolling around his tower. The days were slow, and the nights were slower. The clean natural air of the Cascade Mountain Range was supposed to help his lungs clear up, letting him join his brother in the firefighter force.
Instead the lack of interactions other than the occasional ration drop off or radio call from his colleagues left him alone, just like he had been in high school. Sure, he made some friends in the force after he dropped the whole pyromaniac act, but none of them stuck around for long enough. A few left for new jobs, a few just grew away from him.
But that was okay.
That meant he had less to lose.
All of a sudden a loud noise hit his ears, causing him to jolt upright in his seat. Clouds had rolled in with the fog, the warmth from the sun and cold of the mountain air had collided, creating a storm from almost nothing. A blinding flash of light came through the fog, at what he would guess was about 20 miles away. The light, however, never vanished. Instead, the bright white flash had morphed into an orange glow, hardly distinguishable through the fog. But he knew what it meant, and with the recent dry spell the Cascades had a high fire warning.
He scrambled for his radio, knowing well that 20 miles was not a lot of space between him and a quick spreading fire.
“This is forest fire watch tower 14 to fire department 44, reporting a fire about 20 miles North of my location.” His breathing quickened, seeing the fire glow brighter through the fog. “Unsure of status, will report more as I find out, over.”
The radio crackled in response, only the tail end of the reply making it through. “-n’t get close to it, over.” He recognized his brothers voice through the distorted channel.
“Do not copy, over.” He said, slamming his radio into his pocket and grabbing a hold of his kit and shoving Molotov inside the tower, shutting the door. “Be back soon, I promise.” He gave the cat a small smile before rushing to the ladder and scaling 150 feet to the ground. Jamming the keys into the ignition, he took off on his dirt bike, following poorly made and overrun trails from the past fire watchman who was stationed here.
The radio was buzzing in his pocket, urgent calls to someone who would never reply. The wind was too loud, rushing over his ears. He would scout the fire and report the status and location, it was what he was trained to do. With his degree he could help determine the spread, speed and ferocity of the fire.
When he reached about 15 miles out, he heard another vehicle. There was no way his brothers unit managed to get all the way out here in time. Skidding to a stop, he looked around through the thick fog. A loud noise a bit like thunder drew his gaze behind him, where two bright lights were speeding up the maintenance trail behind him.
With a loud yell, he dove to the side and watched as the approaching van screeched to a halt just before his bike, bumping it onto its side, but overall left no damage.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” He seethed, storming up to the drivers seat of the van. “Can’t you tell there’s a storm going on?”
“Why we’re here, buddy.” The window rolled down, and he was met with the gaze of a owlish looking person, with an indistinguishable face and large, round glasses. “I’m Pidge, we’re storm chasers.”
“Listen, it’s too dangerous for you guys to be out here.” He crossed his arms, glaring at the driver. “There’s a forest fire- it might be a crown fire. We haven’t scouted it yet! Go home!” His voice raised in an attempt to rasp above the thunder.
“Pidge, maybe we should go back-” A nervous, deep voice called from inside the van. “He’s a ranger, he knows this forest better than we do.”
“Hunk, we didn’t track the storm for nothing! It took me forever to pinpoint the center of it! Months of planning and targeting the location!” A smoother voice argued, both of who he couldn’t spot in the van thanks to the dim lighting and dense fog.
“I didn’t drive a hundred miles for nothing either.” Pidge pointed out, adjusting their glasses.They turned back to him. “Listen, Ranger…Who are you?” They looked at him expectantly.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, you can’t be here! The fire is spread-” With that, a wave of heat knocked into them, and Keith turned and faced his original target direction with a look of fear. “It’s getting closer! Please! Get out of here, I don’t want any people to die in this fire!”
The passenger door opened, and a tall, lanky young adult with warm, brown skin slunk around the hood of the van. When he spoke, he recognized the voice as the third member inside the van, the one who was arguing with ‘Hunk’. “I don’t know if you’re new here or just too old for the internet, but the three of us” -the guy gestured to the van- “are famous on Youtube, ever heard of us? The Tormenta Tres. A storm chasing, science, and vlog channel. We’ve never been hurt in the hunt before, we don’t plan on getting hurt now.”
Pidge got out of the van next, holding a camera up. “Great content.” They smirked, catching the exchange between their friend and the mysterious ranger.
“I don’t care who you are, man. I just don’t want to lose anyone to this fire- even if you guys are asking for it.”
“Hasta la vista, vida! I just want some content for the viewers. There haven’t been that many storms, our calculations have been a bust this month, we just need one good video!” The man began to plead. “It pays our bills, this is how we survive in Seattle, how we pay for our loans!”
The last man- Hunk, he assumed, got out of the car to stand beside Pidge, staring at him with a pouty expression.
He bit his cheek, glancing from the man's pouting face to the camera that Pidge was sporting. “I…” He knew how hard making a living could be, especially if your career wasn’t that high paying. For the past year he had been living in a tower in the middle of nowhere for Christ’s sake. “We can go. But only if we take the bike, and only two people fit on it. One of them has to be me.” Glancing at his bike, he frowned. “It’s either gotta be Pidge or the beanstalk. My bike isn’t built for two people to start with… Sorry-” He glanced up at the larger man behind Pidge.
“As long as we get the content, dude. I’m all good to stand back and not throw myself in the middle of the fire. I just wanna get out of here.” Hunk waved a hand, dismissing the ranger’s comments.
“Alright, let’s go.” He swung a leg over his bike, looking at the two others. “One of you, get on. The other needs to get in the van and drive away. I can bring whoever comes with me back to the main road after we scout out the fire, but it’s too dangerous for a van to be here this close.”
Pidge pouted, but it quickly morphed into a smirk as they glanced at their Cuban friend, who had been staring at the ranger the entire time his back was turned to them. “I’m the only one who can drive. Lance, you’re hopping on behind Ranger Smith.” They slapped Lance’s back, and handed the surprised man their camera. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do~” They called as they and Hunk jumped into the van and began to back away.
“Okay, get on.” He urged Lance, revving the bike a bit.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry-” Lance climbed on, wrapping one arm around the ranger and the other held up the camera as they sped towards the fire. He didn’t absolutely hate this- heck, the ranger was kinda cute. Lance spent the entire ride lost in thought about who the ranger was, and guessing names.
“We’re here…” A voice cut through Lance’s thoughts.
“Maybe Gerald…?” Lance wondered aloud, then startled. “Sorry!” His voice turned up to a squeak as he realized the forest fire was burning just a few thousand yards away, burning through the trees like a hot knife.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The ranger looked at Lance weird, drawing his eyebrows together. “Just get your content while I study the fire so that we can get out of here before my brother shows up and kicks my ass for bringing a civilian out here.”
“You got it, boss.” Lance stepped off the bike, zooming the camera around to look at the fire. “Look at this! Holy shit, it’s so scary being this close. Everyone give a special thanks to my new friend, ranger-”
“Keith.” The ranger cut in, glancing over at Lance. “Ranger Keith.” How his eyes managed to look so cold in the waves of searing heat was amazing, even to Lance, who thought he had seen almost everything. “If I’m going to be in your videos, please blur my face. I don’t need the internet to see me- I don’t photograph well.”
“Well, Ranger Keith, thanks for the VIP treatment. I’ll make sure they don’t see you’re pretty face in any of the shots. Aging well, though.” The Cuban’s tone was sarcastic, and he wandered a bit closer to the fire, making some comments on how bright and hot it was.
“Lance, look out!” A voice yelled, and seconds later a tree splintered and a large branch hit the ground just feet from where Lance was standing. The flames and sparks that seemed to explode as the branch hit the ground caught Lance, singing his hair.
“Holy shit!” Lance screeched, backpedaling into the ranger.
“Be careful!” Keith was beginning to yell over the loud crackling and sounds of destruction.
Lance just nodded in shock, turning his camera over to Keith as the ranger began to take ground samples and study the fire. “How old are you?” He asked, looking at the ranger. “This seems like rough work for someone my age.”
“Old enough to know when to respect my elders.” Keith murmured in reply, pocketing his samples in a bag that was hooked to his bike.
“Wow you must be pretty damn old.” Lance teased. “Surprised you haven’t lost any teeth yet, huh?”
“We need to get out of here, kid, do you have everything you need?” Keith called, turning and glancing at Lance.
“I think so, fossil!” He yelled back, hooking the camera he was using to a chest piece so he could be hands free.
“Alright, hop on so we can get out of here! It’s a crown fire, it’s going to be near impossible to put out if it keeps spreading at this rate. I measured it’s peak at 5.7 miles per hour and 1,247 degrees Fahrenheit, but it’s possible it could speed or heat up any moment now!” The ranger got on his bike, motioning for Lance to follow him.
The Cuban wrapped both arms around Keith, pulling his shirt up over his nose to try an keep the smoke from getting into his lungs. He could feel Keith breathing against his chest, it felt almost scratchy, and the ranger gave an occasional cough every once and awhile.
Together the two of them raced away from the fire, heading back down the maintenance path. A fire brigade passed them on their way out, buckets and trucks loaded with water and supplies heading towards the disaster. Once they were away from the loud fire and falling tree’s, Lance could feel a buzzing against his leg. He glanced down an noticed a radio in Keith’s pocket.
“Someone’s trying to call!” Lance yelled over the wind, prompting Keith to slow down. They were near the road, Lance could see his van parked up ahead. But instead of replying to him, the ranger slowly tipped off the bike, landing in the dry mud beside them.
“Whoa- Hey, Keith? Keith, are you okay?” Lance pushed the bike aside, kneeling down beside Keith. He began to wave and yell for Pidge and Hunk, hoping they heard him or saw him. “Keith! Yo, dude-” Lance pressed a hand to Keith’s chest. It was raspy and short, Keith’s breaths were too shallow.
“Oh my god-” Lance pressed his fingers to Keith’s neck for a pulse, and to his surprise found it racing.
“What’s wrong?” He heard Pidge call, his two friends running towards them.
“Call 911.” Lance ordered, stripping the camera and his jacket off so he could have better movement.
Hunk grabbed his phone, dialing the number and waiting impatiently.
Pidge grabbed hold of the camera, unsure of what was going on. They strapped it to their own chest, looking at the boys in concern. “Lance, what happened?”
“I don’t know! It’s just- we were filming by the fire and he started coughing and then he just collapsed!” He was panicked, and he didn’t know what to do. “Maybe he inhaled too much smoke?” Lance tried to race through ideas, and he looked at Hunk hopefully when his friend returned from the call.
“There isn’t any service!” Hunk wailed, looking distressed. “What’s happening with him?”
Lance looked around, before his eyes landed on Keith’s radio and pressing the button. Panicked calls had been going over the radio waves during the ride and after Keith had collapsed, but Lance interrupted them. “This is Lance, I’m with Keith. He just collapsed right off the maintenance path next to the road, we don’t know who happened to him and we don’t have service to call the police. He is barely breathing and has a really fast heartbeat… over” WIth baited breath, the trio waited. All of a sudden a voice came over the radio like it was from Heaven.
“Copy, sending EMTs now, over.”
“Oh thank God.” Pidge exhaled, looking towards the path with an anxious expression.
“Please hurry-” Hunk begged, looking down at Lance and the ranger.
“Come on, Keith.” Lance gently grabbed Keith’s shoulders, turning him onto his back. “We need to get more oxygen into his lungs.” The Cuban looked at his friends with wide eyes. “Anyone CPR certified?”
Hunk and Pidge shook their heads, still looking struck.
That’s when the water began to pour. Rain began to pound at the earth after a roll of thunder, turning the ground they were on into a slick mud.
“Oh no, oh no no no.” Lance cringed, looking down at Keith. The rangers face was slack and other than the shallow rises of his chest, he looked like he was dead.
“Okay, I have no idea how to do this other than a Youtube video I watched when I was bored, but here we go.” Lance cracked his fingers and pressed them on the center of Keith’s chest, and began pressing down to the beat of the recommended song, performing what he could of the maneuver. Keith took a large breath after a few rounds, and opened his eyes.
“Holy shit, Keith.” Lance pulled away, looking down at Keith. But the ranger had a far off gaze in his eyes, not focusing on Lance or the sound of the approaching sirens. His breathing was steadier, but he remained unresponsive as the EMTs loaded him into an ambulance. The last Lance saw of Keith was the rangers feet as the EMTs thanked Lance and shut the door, speeding off down the main road to the hospital. Only one EMT remained behind to get Lance’s contact info for further questioning.
X X X
“What’s up, Mis Acoiris? As you all know, my name is Lance. If you don’t and you’re new here, please like and subscribe! The Trio posts every week on Tuesdays! This past month has been… crazy.” Lance sighed. “The title isn’t clickbait, as much as it sounds. I really did save a forest rangers life. Now, I did get to talk to this ranger a little bit, and trust me, if I had done any more mouth to mouth, they would have had have been resuscitating me instead of him. He was damn cute.” The Cuban’s face darkened a bit. “Enough with the jokes though. This is officially the last video in our storm chaser series, were putting it on hiatus until further notice. The event’s you’re about to witness in this video have been my Come-To-Jesus about how precious life is, and if I’m risking mine and others lives, well, I and the Trio don’t want to do that right now. So thank you, all of you, for a great three years of this series. I hope you enjoy the video and learn a little something, like the Tormenta Tres did that night.”
Lance clicked post on the video, shutting his laptop and looked around at his little studio apartment. The video was posted about a month after the incident occurred, and the fire had been quelled to a manageable rage. Lance still knew nothing on the condition of Keith, the forest fire ranger who had helped him realize that being young and reckless wasn’t how life was supposed to be lived.
Not a day had passed where Lance wondered how he was, and if he was okay. Searches of all the nearby hospitals had given him no information on the whereabouts of the ranger. So after a few weeks, he had given up searching.
A notification popped up on lance’s screen. He had gotten a few new followers and a couple comments. Absently, he scrolled through them. But one caught his eye. A comment from a new account called Ranger.K. Holding his breath, Lance scrolled down to the comment.
Ranger.K
I see you listened to my request… lol. Blurred me so much you can't even tell I have a scar.
A smile made its way onto Lance’s face, and he clicked on the reply box below the comment.
Tormenta Tres
I’ve learned a thing or two about respecting my elders. I’m glad to hear from you.
Ranger.K
Any chance the Trio is having a fan meet up any time soon?
Tormenta Tres
For you? I would drop everything I’m doing right now to have one.
Ranger.K
Everything as in binging the latest season of Riverdale?
Tormenta Tres
How do you know I watch Riverdale? Is being a stalker your part time job, Ranger?
Ranger.K
Nah, I just don’t post every aspect of my personal life on the media. But about the stalker thing, meet me at your normal coffee place
Tormenta Tres
Jesus, man. Way to drop a bomb on a guy-
Ranger.K
I’m in the area, and I had my brother do some research after the EMTs took your info. Plus you talk about it a lot in the vlogs, it’s not hard to find it. I just want to talk, please?
Tormenta Tres
You’re smarter than you look. I never said no, dude. See you in ten
No reply from Keith ever came, so Lance quickly dressed himself and sprayed on some cologne. He hurried out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him as he rushed towards the coffee shop. He paused across the street, catching his breath. A quick scan of the shop revealed Keith, dressed much more casual than his ranger wear that Lance had seen him in a month ago, sitting at a table outside the shop.
Dark, ripped jeans covered his legs along with a pair of clean Adidas sneakers. A deep maroon, loose fitting shirt outlined his thin figure while a plain, dark gray jacket rest on his shoulders. Keith’s hair was a bit longer, and he wasn’t sweating from the heat of a fire.
Lance honestly thought the ranger couldn’t have gotten any hotter than when they were standing next to a 1300 degree fire, but boy was he wrong.
“Keith!” Lance called, jogging across the street when the walk sign flashed green. “It’s so good to see you. I see you found the Tormenta Tres Youtube, per my recommendation?”
“It’s a pleasure seeing you too, Lance.” Keith snorted, leaning back in his seat. “Sit, I want to talk a little.”
Lance took the seat across from Keith, switching from carefree to serious in a second. “Keith- If you don’t mind me asking, what happened last month?”
“I have pulmonary edema caused by smoke inhalation.” Keith began, tapping his chest. “When I was fourteen, I learned how to play with fire. I made fireworks, molotov cocktails, I swallowed fire and I could breath it. It was a great trick for parties, especially the last party I went to when I was twenty one. I got drunk, I tried breathing fire, but I hiccuped and inhale the fire. The alcohol coating my throat sent the fire straight into my lungs.” Keith cleared his throat. “The alcohol luckily burned away, leaving my throat unscathed.”
“Keith- I’m sorry-” Lance started.
“Shush, I’m not done.” Keith frowned at Lance. “The fire, however, scarred my lung tissue. Sometimes fluids can build up if I do too much exercise, or my heart rate gets too high, or I breath in smoke. It can send me into cardiac arrest, or I can have a stroke. My dreams of being a firefighter were crushed, and I was condemned to a tower atop a mountain, watching other people put out fires.” A long sigh. “But I found out, after I woke up in the hospital, that being to immature and risky wasn’t worth the thrill I got from it. Fire is still my life, it’s still all I know. But I can’t be putting myself in danger like that- so I was thinking that if you needed a Fire Science specialist for the Tormenta Tres, I’d be more than happy to help out-”
“I- I don’t- Keith”
“Please don’t say no-” Keith cringed. “I don’t need this to be more awkward than it already is. I sound desperate.”
“Holy shit, Keith, no. We’d love to have you! It would be such a great video!” Lance threw his arms as if displaying something. “Ranger I saved joins the Tormenta Tres Team. I love it!”
A smile smile grew on Keith’s face. “Thanks, Lance.” He held a hand out, staring at Lance in the face.
“Welcome to the team, Keith.” Lance grabbed his hand and shook it, a large grin on his face.
They left the coffee place, walking off towards Lance’s apartment to discuss the future of Tormenta Tres, a flaming red sunset setting behind the Seattle skyline.
So yes, his grandfather lost his life to fire, his father lost his life to fire, his brother lost his arm to fire, and he lost something as well. But he lost his recklessness, not his life. Now instead of being charred, his slash and burn existence was beginning to grow again- a new seed of life in a direction he never expected to go. One hand around a cup of coffee, the other intertwined with the Cuban man's walking beside him.