The sawyer downed trees, the swampers cleared the brush, and the diggers created a three-foot fire line, hoping to God the fire wouldn’t jump. We were a crew cut down by half and shorting ourselves time to evacuate.

An hour passed, then another twenty minutes. My arms were shaking, screaming for a break, sweat poured into my eyes, but none of us stopped until Tyler called it.

“All right, we’ve done what we could. We’re out of time, let’s go!”

The group moved slower and clumsier.

“We didn’t do the math on being too exhausted to evacuate,” I said to Tyler. “Rookie mistake that could cost us.”

“I’m the one who didn’t do the math,” he said, guilt and frustration weighing down his face. “But we’re not dying today.” He put one hand to the side of his mouth so his voice would go further. “Pick it up, guys. Day isn’t done!”

Every part of my body screamed to stop, to rest, and every third beat of my heart felt like it was rattling my rib cage. Multi-colored sparkles filled my eyes, and I leaned over to grab my knees.

“Don’t stop now, Zeke,” Tyler said, pulling me along.

“I’m dizzy as fuck,” I said.

Tyler knew we didn’t have time for that shit. “You stop, and you won’t start again. Keep! Going!”

In the same moment, Fish made a misstep and tumbled over the ridge. Runt fell to his knees and tried to catch him, but Fish’s sleeve slipped through his fingers.

Fish fell six feet, then caught himself with the fingertips of one hand on a small rock jutting out, his knees and feet crashing into the side. He looked up; his eyes wide. The small rock wasn’t enough to help his fingers offset the weight of his body, and his grasp began to slip away.

Runt took another swing, reaching down and nearly falling over himself before Jubal grabbed his ankle. “Fish!” Runt cried. “Grab my hand!”

Their shaking, dirty fingers were just inches away.

Before any of us could react, Fish slipped away. Rocks and ledges broke his fall for mere seconds at a time, thuds and grunts the only sounds. We watched helplessly as he incurred injury after injury as he fell to the bottom, his helmet hitting a large rock at the bottom with a crack.

“Fish!” Runt yelled, falling to his knees.

Tyler and I stared at each other in horror, and then we descended the side of the mountain to get to our friend.

Fish was still yelling when we reached him, holding his ankle.

“Is it broken?” I asked, taking a look.

“I don’t think so,” he said, breathing through the pain as he stared at his injury. “I tried to get up… I ain’t walking out of here.”