Fire and Rain: A Wildest Alaska Novel
Fire and Rain
A Wildest Alaska Novel
Pamela Clare
www.pamelaclare.com
Contents
Fire and Rain
Acknowledgments
Glossary
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Thank You
Also by Pamela Clare
About the Author
FIRE AND RAIN
A Wildest Alaska novel
Published by Pamela Clare, 2022
Cover Design by © Jaycee DeLorenzo/Sweet ‘N’ Spicy Designs
Sea Rescue image: icholakov01
Man in shirt: icholakov01
Ocean Spray: miltonia
Copyright © 2022 by Pamela Clare
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials by violating the author’s rights. No one should be expected to work for free. If you support the arts and enjoy literature, do not participate in illegal file-sharing.
ISBN: 979-8-9854351-3-9
This book is dedicated to the courageous men and women of the United States Coast Guard, who risk their lives to save others day in and day out with very little fanfare.
Semper Paratus.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Jacqueline Cetrulo for her help and support with the Coast Guard elements of this story. She made such a difference, and I am deeply grateful.
Additional thanks to Michelle White, Mary White, Jackie Turner, Benjamin Alexander, and Shell Ryan for their continual support. I couldn’t do this without you. No, I mean it. I really couldn’t.
Glossary
DIC — Dependency and Indemnity Compensation
SBP — Survivor Benefit Plan
RTB — Returning to base
SAR — An acronym for Search and Rescue. Pronounced like a word, not like letters.
Duty Room — A room where Coasties sleep when they’ve got a 24-hour duty shift.
Conn — To give verbal instructions that guide a pilot into position.
Evolution — A term used by most branches of the military. In this context, it refers to the work needed to complete a mission and can probably be used interchangeably with mission.
TrakkaBeam — A big spotlight that helps helicopter flight crews spot people on the water.
Mikes — Minutes. “Thirty mikes out” means “thirty minutes away.”
Deck — The deck of a ship. Terra firma. For a helicopter crew, it means on the ground.
Bingo Fuel — The minimum amount of fuel needed to return safely to base.
Prologue
January 11
Air Station Kodiak
Kodiak Island, Alaska
The SAR alarm jerked Sean McKenna from a sound sleep. Instantly awake, he got to his feet and left his duty room, already wearing the black thermals that all flight crews wore beneath their survival suits.
The operations duty officer’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker. “Now put the ready helo online. Now put the ready helo online.”
Justin Koseki emerged from the duty room across the hall and walked with Sean down the narrow corridor toward the locker room. “Get any sleep?”
“Some. You?”
Sean had met Justin a little more than eight years ago at boot camp, and they’d been friends ever since. Tonight, they were both on duty and needed to be ready to take off at a moment’s notice.
Justin shook his head, a smile on his face. “I was talking with Eden. She wants to try for another baby.”
Eden Alexyev Koseki was Justin’s beautiful wife of three years and the mother of his eighteen-month-old son, Maverick.
Sean chuckled. “Weren’t you just complaining about the cost of diapers, man?”
Justin grinned. “She wants our kids to be born here in Kodiak so her parents can have time with them before we get transferred away. I’ll ask to stay here for as long as I can, but you know how that goes.”
Justin had already secured a second tour of duty in Kodiak, but where he served after that was up to the Coast Guard. Most Coastie families lived far from loved ones, moving every two to four years. But Eden had deep roots on the island, with ancestry that included Alutiiq, Russian, Scottish, and French Canadian. She’d never lived anywhere else, and Sean couldn’t blame her for wanting to raise her children here.
Justin glanced at him. “When are you going to meet someone?”
They turned the corner and headed down the stairs.
“Dude, do the math. There are twenty-six percent fewer women than men on this island, and if you subtract married women, little girls, and grandmas, the pickings are slim. Besides, you know what they say. If you mess around on Kodiak Island, you’ll end up with dependents, a disease, a divorce, or a dishonorable discharge—or maybe all four.”
Besides, Sean’s life was too unsettled, his job too risky, and his workdays too long to be in a serious relationship. The divorce rate for Coasties wasn’t as high as it was for members of the Air Force. Still, he didn’t want to settle down with a woman until he had a permanent home, and he’d never planned to be a father. For that reason, Sean had always kept his relationships safe and casual—until he’d transferred to Kodiak. Then he’d found himself without a love life.
Justin laughed. “You’re a flight mech. You’ve got shiny gold wings on your uniform. Women dig wings.”
“Too bad I can’t wear my uniform into the bars.”
“I didn’t meet Eden in a bar.”
“Not all of us get to show off the way you rescue swimmers do.”
Justin had jumped out of the helo at Kodiak’s Crab Fest as part of a demonstration to show the crowd what rescue swimmers did. But rather than hooking himself up so he could be hoisted back up to the helo like he was supposed to, he’d swum over to a pretty woman standing with her sisters at the pier and asked for her name and number. He’d been reprimanded, but it had been worth it. Six months later, Sean had flown up from Air Station San Francisco to stand with Justin at his wedding to Eden. Sean had taken one look at the landscape and had requested to be stationed in Kodiak for his next move.
Some Coasties hated Alaska, but Sean loved it. It was a land of extremes—extreme beauty, extreme weather, extreme risk. Living and working on Kodiak Island got Sean’s blood pumping in a way that no other assignment had.
They reached their lockers and dropped the banter. Lt. James Spurrier and Lt. Junior Grade David Abbott, the helo pilot and co-pilot, were already halfway into their survival suits.
“What’ve we got?” Sean opened his locker, began to dress out.
James yanked up the diagonal zipper of his survival suit. “Sector Anchorage got a call from a twenty-eight-foot fishing boat called the Marjor
ie T. A forty-six-year-old male collapsed suddenly, seized, and is having trouble breathing. The boat is about fifty miles offshore.”
“Do they have an AED on board?” As the rescue swimmer, Justin was an EMT and would be in charge of medical care once they got the patient into the helo.
“No defibrillator.” James grabbed his flight bag. “The woman who made the call sounded extremely upset and said she didn’t have first aid training. The operations duty officer told her how to put him in a recovery position and asked her to check for a pulse. She couldn’t tell his pulse from her own.”
“Adrenaline will do that.” Sean zipped his suit, grabbed the rest of his gear, and walked with the others toward the operations center. “What’s the weather doing?”
Here in Alaska, the weather could change in a heartbeat and varied drastically from one area to another. It might be a calm night over Air Station Kodiak but gusting forty knots with zero visibility a ten-minute flight up the coast.
“Clear skies with gusts up to fifteen knots. Water temp is forty degrees.”
“Nice.” Sean’s primary job was to conn the pilot into position and manage the hoist, lowering the rescue swimmer to the water or the deck of the boat and then lifting him and any patients or survivors to safety. High winds made that job a lot more challenging.
They found Lt. Michelle Yamada, a fixed-wing pilot, staffing the operations duty officer post for the night. She’d already calculated their flight path. “There are no land obstacles in your way. It should be a straightforward evolution.”
James’ gaze was on the map, where the ship’s position was clearly marked. “Any amplifying information?”
Lt. Yamada nodded. “The boat isn’t moving, so they’re getting tossed around by the swells. Apparently, the patient is the only one who feels safe piloting the craft. The woman who called in is the patient’s wife. The patient is unconscious and unresponsive. She thinks he has a pulse, but she’s pretty upset and confused. I asked a corpsman to join you just in case you need extra medical help. Wade Sheppard is already waiting near the helo.”
“Good idea.” James pulled on his helmet. “Let’s go.”
It was a short helicopter flight to the position of the Marjorie T, so Sean helped Justin and Wade get the cabin ready for the patient, the three of them preparing for the worst. Sean and Justin had worked dozens of SAR cases together and operated quickly and efficiently. As a corpsman, Wade rarely flew, but he had a higher level of medical training and was allowed to administer medications that Justin could not.
“Once we get the patient into the cabin, I’ll defer to you,” Justin told Wade, the conversation carried over earphones so that everyone could hear over the din of the rotors.
“Copy that.” Wade hung a bag of IV fluids and retrieved an AMBU bag, while Justin got the AED ready. IV tubing. O2. Medications. Pulse Oximeter. Blankets.
An unconscious patient meant a litter rescue, but Sean would wait until Justin had left the cabin to put the litter together. He turned to the window, flipped down his night-vision goggles, and searched the endless ocean for the Marjorie T.
Abbott’s voice came through the headphones. “I wonder what a small craft like that is doing out here in the middle of the night.”
“Good question,” James replied. “Something must have gone wrong.”
There was no fog, but there wasn’t any moonlight either, the darkness broken only by the MH-60 Jayhawk’s lights. They had no photos of the Marjorie T, and Sean wasn’t sure the boat had power or functioning lights.
James’ voice sounded in Sean’s ear. “You’ve got door speed.”
“Roger that. Opening cabin door.” Sean leaned out as cold air rushed in, his gaze on the inky black surface of the swells below.
James tried to pick the boat up on the radio. “Marjorie T, this is Coast Guard Rescue Six-Zero-Three-Eight, do you copy?”
A moment of silence was followed by a burst of static. “Coast Guard, it’s the Marjorie T. I can hear you, but I can’t see you. Help us!”
Sean spotted the vessel bobbing in the water. “They’re at our two o’clock.”
“I see them.” David turned on the helo’s TrakkaBeam, the powerful spotlight illuminating the boat below. “Let there be light.”
“Is the big flashlight giving you a god complex, Abbot?” James joked.
“Marjorie T, Rescue Six-Zero-Three-Eight, we’re nearing your position. Can you give us an update on the patient, over?”
“He still isn’t moving. I think I felt his heart beating.”
“Good copy, Marjorie T. We’ll circle your position and figure out the best way to reach the patient, over.”
Sean made a quick study of the boat and any hazards it might present to a hovering helo. “The boat’s really small, and there are a couple of antennas coming off the cabin.”
David peered out his window. “Looks like our patient is in the stern.”
“I see him.” Sean had already made up his mind. “We’re going to have to put the swimmer in the water. You good with that, man?”
Justin nodded, his gaze on the boat. “I’ll climb on board and assess the patient. Then you can send down the litter.”
“Roger that.” James circled the boat once more.
Sean got down on his belly to get a good view of the craft and all parts of the helo, then conned James into position. “Ten feet to the right.”
It was one of the most critical parts of any rescue. If the helo’s rotor contacted any of the boat’s antennas, it would be lights out for all of them. He kept giving directions as James brought the helo to a hover about fifteen feet above the water’s surface just off the boat’s starboard side. “An easy right. Hold.”
Justin was already in his harness and fins, so Sean started his safety check. “You ready?”
“Yeah, man. Let’s get this guy.” Justin sat with his legs dangling over the water.
“Safety check complete.” Sean gave Justin a little push. “Swimmer is leaving the cabin.”
“Roger.”
Justin took the plunge, disappearing beneath the water.
“Swimmer is in the water.”
Justin surfaced, gave Sean a thumb’s up, then swam with strong strokes toward the boat.
“Swimmer is okay. He’s heading toward the Marjorie T.” Sean watched as Justin reached the boat’s starboard railing and pulled himself onto the craft. “The swimmer is on deck.”
With Wade’s assistance, Sean got the litter ready and attached it to the hook and hoist line. Then he moved back to the open door, waiting for Justin’s signal.
Below, Justin knelt beside the patient, checked for a pulse, then turned to speak to the woman, his words drowned out by the helo’s rotors. He looked up, motioned for Sean to send down the litter.
“Swimmer has asked for the litter.”
“Begin the hoist,” James said.
Sean held onto the line so the litter wouldn’t spin in the helo’s rotor wash. The litter had almost reached Justin when the cabin door opened and another adult male staggered out, hand over his mouth as if he were coughing.
Justin’s voice came over the radio. “Abort! Abort! We need to get everyone off the boat now. We’ll pick them up in the water. They’re cooking meth, and the patient was exposed.”
Fuck.
“Abort the hoist! I’m putting some distance between us,” James said as the helo moved upward and back. “Prepare to recover our swimmer and survivors from the water.”
“Aborting the hoist. Get out of there, Koseki.” Sean raised the litter, holding tight to the line as it moved slowly upward.
Below, Justin caught the unconscious man beneath the arms and dragged him toward the railing, shouting to the other two passengers to abandon ship.
Were they arguing with him?
Come on!
James spoke into the radio, updating Sector. “The swimmer says they’re cooking meth onboard. We’ve aborted the hoist and put some distance between us and—
”
A deafening blast. Searing heat. Flames.
Almost at once, the shockwave hit the helo, ripping the line from Sean’s hand, and hurling him backward. The litter and hook were blown back into the tail rotor. The aircraft pitched, spinning, alarms screaming.
“Mayday! Mayday!” James’ voice sounded in Sean’s headphones as the helo spun out of control, heading for the water. “This is Coast Guard Rescue Six-Zero-Three-Eight! The Marjorie T just exploded. We’re going down! I repeat, we are going down!”
“Justin!” Sean shouted into the chaos.
Then they hit the water with a bone-jarring crunch.
Eden Koseki slipped quietly into Maverick’s room to check on him, her heart swelling as she watched him sleep. He was completely relaxed the way only a baby could be, his downy hair dark against his pillow. It was hard to believe that this sleeping angel was the same little rascal who’d dumped his cup of milk onto the floor this afternoon—and then cried in protest when she’d cleaned it up.
She drew up the quilt her mother had made for him and then walked out of the room, leaving the door cracked behind her. She needed a hot soak and a good night’s sleep.
She walked to the tub and turned on the tap, undressing and tossing her clothes into the bedroom. Then she hung a clean towel on the rack, put her phone where she could reach it in case one of her sisters called, and stepped into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a sigh.