Firestorm-pigeon 4 Read Online Free PDF

oily red rag protruded from his hip pocket, flagging exposed derriere decolletage. A screwdriver and crescent wrench, the only tools he was conversant with, were balanced on the fender.

"I'm not hanging around up here all day waiting for you to get that damn thing up and going." Paula sucked on an orange Gatorade. The colored drink painted a Kool-Aid smile on her round face.

"Like you got a choice," Neil muttered.

Tossing her hair, Paula pouted at Stephen. "When they coming to get you? There room for me? I'll sit on somebody's lap if I got to."

"Yeah. And talk about the first thing that comes up," issued from under the truck's hood along with a stream of brown tobacco juice.

"Fuck off, Neil. Can I?"

Stephen pushed the roll of canvas farther up on the bed. "No problem, little lady," he mimicked John Wayne's classic cadence.

If she got the joke, Paula didn't let on. "When ya goin'?"

"Tonight with the bus that comes for the last of the San Juans."

Paula turned her back. "That's later'n us even. That don't do me no good."

"No lap for you," Anna said as she and Lindstrom went back for the tent poles, pulled up and piled neatly beneath their sheltering tree. Nearby were the jump kit and emergency gear that would remain until the last of the crew rode down in the evening.

"A fella'd want to wear rubber gloves just to hold hands with that little number. I don't know where she's been but I bet it wasn't clean enough to eat off of." Stephen tossed his head in a good imitation of Paula Boggins. "A boy's got his reputation to consider."

In mutual and unspoken accord, he and Anna flopped into the shade where their medical unit had been. Lindstrom propped his head against his hard hat and folded his arms across his chest. "Old fire-fighting maxim," he said. "If there's time to stand, there's time to sit. If you can sit, you can lie down. If you can lie down, you can lie down in the shade."

Anna folded herself up tailor fashion, one foot on the opposite thigh in a half lotus. She'd never managed a full lotus, though there'd been a time she thought it worth pursuing. The difference between a half and full seemed the difference between complacency and spiritual awakening. The first was comfortable. The second made one's bones ache.

The wind had shifted, blowing in from the northwest ahead of the storm. Smoke veiled the sun until it was a blood-red ball. Anything obscuring the sun made Anna uneasy. Had she been an aboriginal she had little doubt that at the first signs of an eclipse she would have been in the vanguard sacrificing virgins to appease the gods.

To the west she could see the barren domes of Chaos Crags and the ragged thrust of Lassen Peak. Drought had plagued California for three years without reprieve and no snow clung to the volcano's flanks. Pines draping her sides showed a hint of rust: drought stress. Dry as tinder.

Beyond the peak was a wall of dirty white. The front pouring in across the Cascades. The blessing of rain, but most assuredly in disguise. Thunderstorms, spawned along the leading edge, were lit from within by lightning. "It better be a wet one," she remarked. "Or it'll light more fires than it puts out."

Stephen opened one hazel eye. His lashes, like his hair, were short and very thick. It gave him a dreamy look Anna was a sucker for. "Cloud to cloud. Stuff's not reaching the ground."

Anna studied the oncoming clouds. "It's moving right along though."

In unexpected ratification, her radio began issuing a warning to expect gusting winds. All morning voices had scratched over the airwaves. Crew bosses talking to squad bosses, and air to ground communications. Everything winding down. Anna'd pretty much quit listening. Now she turned it up.

"Maybe LeFleur'll pull the squad," Stephen said. "We can get off this mountain a couple hours early. I could stand that."

"Spike medical unit, this is the San Juan."

"John must have heard you." Anna pulled her radio off her belt. "I bet he's ordering a