Cal Jackson stared up at the wall of flame eating its way toward him through the forest. He was always tempting fate one step too far. Now he was way past the second step, as well as the third. He was standing in the foreign land of Totally Screwed. In his seven years of fighting wildfires and five more photographing them, he’d never been this far over the line. Not even close.
He’d ridden the edge a lot since he was a testosterone-laden teen. It had earned him his fair share of cold slaps from ticked-off women, but maybe more than his share of warm and friendly nights. It had also led to numerous interesting opportunities to travel for both work and play, so he’d learned to take that risk without actively thinking about it.
He tried not to take that second step often; it was his warning
