Falls Like Lightning by Shawn Grady

to work her own way through her grief. She had to come to terms. She had to let go of the “but why” approach and accept things as they were. Cecelia had married a man who was drawn to jumping into fires. She knew the risks. She knew the possible outcome. What did she expect—for him to be around forever? Elle knew jumpers, and as such knew better.
    Lightning struck over the eastern shore. Elle descended, dropping altitude to skim close to the lake, not wanting to toy with any unstable air masses above. She glanced back at Maddie. For all the worrying Elle had done, there the child sat, head tilted back with Rose under her arm.
    Elle radioed the South Lake Tahoe airport tower for approach and permission to land. They approved her as second in the pattern behind a single engine air tanker that was returning after dropping its small load of fire retardant. She angled the stick and arced around. The heading indicator spun on the instrument panel.
    Another flash burst in the sky. The south part of the lake seemed to spout and spatter like hot oil. South shore clouds tore from the sky, and sporadic raindrops tapped on the aircraft hull. The blue-lit runway lights came into view, emitting haloes in the downpour.
    These microbursts weren’t uncommon at this time of the year. More bark than bite. The little moisture they released would soon be sucked up by dry tinderbox fuels and climbing daytime temperatures.
    Her right-wing engine prop skipped and buzzed. She adjusted speed and angle to compensate for the loss of lift and brought her in, slow and easy, until the tires screeched and the flaps came up and the roaring sound of a safe ground landing hummed in her ears.
    Right decision or not, they were there, touched down in Tahoe with the world afire.
    ———
    Silas barely took three steps on the tarmac in South Lake Tahoe before Planning Chief Shivner got in his face.
    “You’re late.” He adjusted one of three radios rigged to his chest harness. Sweat beaded between the receding banks of hair atop his tan-skinned head.
    “Evening, Chief.” Silas shouldered his rucksack and nodded toward Warren. “You might want to talk to the man in charge.”
    “Adams.”
    Warren descended from the plane, a grin beaming out from his growing beard. “Yes, sir, Chief. Give me something good, ’cause you know these boys like to fight fire.”
    Shivner looked sideways at Silas and took Warren by the arm. “Over here.”
    They strolled to the nose of the aircraft. Warren’s expression drew somber.
    Silas scratched the back of his neck. The rest of the crew filed out of the plane. Elle walked into the crew compartment and knelt by Maddie. She caught Silas’s eye and smiled. Maddie waved with her fingers. Silas returned the gesture.
    Warren returned. “Sounds like things in the last twelve hours have pretty much gone to—”
    “Pretty much is an understatement.” Shivner waddled past with a limp and waved them along. “Talk on the way, gentlemen.” The edges of his yellow Nomex shirt stretched around the pear-shaped arc of his belly. “The next operational period is set to start at twenty hundred hours. You’ll both be there.”
    Both?
    Warren nodded. “Absolutely.”
    Shivner hadn’t phrased it as a question. He paused, already winded. “All right. I’ll give you the opportunity to talk, then.”
    “Thanks, Chief.”
    Shivner glanced at Silas and plodded ahead.
    Warren brought both hands behind his head and blew out a breath. “We lost a guy today, Silas.”
    His gut dropped. “What? Who?”
    “Pendleton.”
    “The spotter?”
    Warren nodded.
    “Plane go down?”
    “He was on the ground.”
    “Why wasn’t he with his plane?”
    “I didn’t stay with the plane when we went after the radio tech.”
    “That was different. We had a rescue mission. Out here—”
    “You know how it is—if another qualified spotter is available, then sometimes we’ll jump with the crew. Fact is, with all these fires and resources