Bear Inferno

1. Bear Inferno-1

Bear Inferno

Jim…

Jim, come back to bed.

Jim Ortega slowly opened his eyes. It was still dark out, but that didn’t matter to a man like him with strange golden eyes that could practically see in the dark. He had been sleepwalking again. Rubbing his eyes, he turned back to the voice of his wife, who had called him from their bed. She was laying there, bundled up tightly in the blankets against the cold chill that seemed to seep in through the window with the blinds open. Outside, wind howled and snow pounded against the window.

Jim.

He smiled. Carefully, he climbed into bed, taking care not to wake his sleeping wife.

Wait. If Anastasia is asleep, then who is talking?

He peeled back the cover, just enough to see his wife – and gasped aloud. It wasn’t his wife in bed next to him. Or rather, if it was, then she wasn’t alive. The woman next to him was the picture of death.

He yelled in surprise, disgust, and heartbreak, falling backwards out of their bed, legs tangled in the blankets and further unraveling his dead wife. His head hit the back of the nightstand, but he didn’t feel it in the slightest. In fact, he barely noticed, because that ghostly voice calling his name was there again.

Jim… Jim… Jim…

It was an incessant chant. Jim jumped to his feet, managing to free himself from the blankets but refusing to look at his wife. Instead, he turned and rushed out of his bedroom, running down the hall towards the sound of his name.

Jim… Jim… Jim…

Help me, Daddy…

Daddy… Daddy… Daddy…

And he realized with a sickening feeling that now it was his daughter calling his name, sweet little Callie, only four years old, and now the words that had been drawing him closer had turned to screams, screams of pain and agony, screams that pleaded with him to come quick and save her…

He entered her bedroom, flinging the door open so hard that it cracked against the far wall, and was met immediately with a blast of heat, as if he’d stepped into a furnace. He wasn’t far off. The entire room was ablaze, every inch of it engulfed in flames except for the bed in the center of the room. Callie sat there, looking terrified, screaming for him to help her.

Jim took a step forward and felt the flames lick at his feet. They should have hurt, but instead of pain he only felt that he was stepping into them. But the heat… the heat was almost unbearable.

Daddy!

He couldn’t waste any more time. He took two big steps forward into the blaze, feeling himself entering them but unable to feel the pain. It was the strangest thing, he realized, and then he reached out to sweep her off of her bed, just as it was engulfed in flame…

And then she was screaming and everything was red. Flames licked at him, her screams drowning out even the roar of the fire, and no matter how hard he tried to reach for her, he couldn’t…

Jim Ortega screamed –

And abruptly woke up, for real this time.

He took a deep breath, heart pounding in his chest, and blinked rapidly. The room was still dark, but he slowly came to his senses. The thin sheet was covering his lower torso, his chest sweaty, hair wet with nervous sweat. He tugged it off and swung his legs to the side, feeling his bare feet on the cool concrete of the bunk room floor.

Jim ran his hands through his wet hair and paused long enough to catch his breath. Once that was done, he slowly looked up and took stock of the situation.

He was in the bunk room of the Forest. Early morning light seeped through the open window, and he could feel a warm breeze coming through it. The scents of New York City flooded into his nostrils and calmed him some. Spring was about on its way out, soon to be replaced by summer, and he couldn’t be happier.

The last two winters had been especially brutal. With any luck, they’d have a long summer, and he’d feel a bit better before the cold weather seeped back in.

Someone snored rather loudly a couple of bunks down from him. At this time, most were empty – half the men weren’t on call.

Tom Buckner slept face down a few bunks down, hand dangling out of the bed and fingers touching the floor. A couple farther down was John Forbes. Chief Alexander McCready, leader of their little ragtag unit of firefighting Shifters, wasn’t in his bunk, but that was no surprise. Between his second kid, a daughter who was recently born, and leading the Forest, he didn’t get a lot of time to sleep. He spent most of his waking time – and most of his sleeping time, too – in his office.

Ortega ignored Buckner’s snoring and got to his feet, stretching and grabbing a pair of pants. He pulled them on as quietly as he could, but needn’t have bothered; the other men would sleep as soundly as newborn babies unless the fire alarm went off. With the exception of that, nothing could wake them. He wasn’t even sure the building burning down around them, ironically, could wake them.

He made his way to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He was getting older – though he was by no means old. For such a stressful occupation, it had taken little toll on him. His thick, dark hair sported no gray, and neither did his rough, dark beard that he’d recently taken to growing out over the winter months.

His body was crisscrossed with little minuscule scars, most of which he never remembered getting. He left the bathroom and went to the kitchen.

The rest of the men wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, but he knew he would never be able to get back to sleep after the nightmare he’d just experienced. His best bet would be to start on breakfast and wake the men up when it was finished. Hell, they probably wouldn’t wake up for even that.

Opening the fridge, he saw a couple of cartons of eggs, packages of bacon, and some biscuits. Stock was running low, but it would be enough to feed the men this morning. As far as lunch was concerned, he wasn’t so sure, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Jim was the unofficial cook of the Forest. He’d never set out to be the cook. He’d never been able to cook in his entire life until he’d signed on with the Forest, for that matter. He hadn’t been able to cook to save his life – but neither could any of the other men, so he’d done the best he could – and now, years later, he was a halfway decent cook. The men told him different, of course. They said he cooked the best food they’d ever eaten, but he knew better.

It still felt good to hear.

He cracked some eggs into a bowl and started beating them.

The Forest – it was his home. It hadn’t always been. He’d joined on a little bit after its formation, early enough to be a veteran, late enough not to be considered one of the founding members. That suited him just fine. He’d been a firefighter since before he graduated high school but hadn’t officially joined until…

Well, he preferred not to think of why he’d joined.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice said from behind him.

Jim halfway turned around and saw Chief Alexander McCready and said, “You neither, Mac?”

The other man sat down at the table the men ate at for nearly every meal, and Jim put on some coffee for them.

McCready waited until the coffee was hot and steaming in front of him and said, “Another restless night. Can’t sleep at home. Can’t sleep here.”

“Problems?”

The Chief shook his head and said, “None whatsoever. Stress, maybe. Things have changed a lot these last few years. Don’t know if I’m up to it.”

Jim appreciated the honesty from his Chief. It wasn’t easy to talk about problems like that.

“Ever since Jess Andrews filmed her way into our lives…” McCready muttered, taking a sip of the coffee and nodding. “Don’t get me wrong – I wouldn’t change it for the world. What she’s done for this place is wonderful. The money rolling in, the TV special, those goddamn T-shirts, but mostly the money – she’s done a good job. But it’s a lot to deal with. I feel like I’m taking more phone calls and putting out more figurative fires than fighting literal ones.”

“I don’t envy that,” Jim said, sizzling some bacon. Jess Andrews was a famous New York TV news reporter that had used the Forest to launch her career years back. She’d gotten involved with Buckner, and now she was the Forest’s official PR woman. She’d opened up lots of doors for the Forest – much to the initial disapproval of McCready.

“It’s been what? A year and a half since she joined up with us?” McCready asked, almost rhetorically. Jim didn’t interrupt his thoughts. “I used to be against all of this kind of stuff. Us against the world, or at least, us against the system.”

“Different times,” Jim offered, cooking. Times had changed. For years, politicians, other Shifters, and everyone under the sun had tried to use the Forest for their own financial gain. McCready had been firmly against that.

However, after letting Jess Andrews helm their PR, McCready had eased up in his stance. They now had donations flowing in, a once a week TV special that followed them out on some of their calls, their own line of branded clothing. All eight men of the Forest were halfway famous and partway rich.

Luckily, the men hadn’t lost sight of the Forest. All eight men owned equal stock in the company with an agreement in place that when, and if, they hired more recruits, that those eight shares would become nine, then ten, so every member of the Forest had the same amount of pull in the company. This way, no single member could take over the Forest, though Jim knew that none of the men he called brothers would ever consider something like that.

Still, it had been a good idea. McCready had changed over the years – but he hadn’t gotten stupider.

Jim scooped the food onto a couple of plates, put the rest in the oven to keep warm, and poured them fresh cups of coffee before sitting down in front of McCready.

Times were good.

“Another nightmare?” McCready asked quietly. There was no one else around, but Jim appreciated his discreetness.

“They’re getting worse,” Jim admitted, taking a bite and chewing softly. “I see them almost every night, Mac. Anastasia and Callie… and they…”

He choked up a little, and McCready said, “Don’t gotta tell me, Jim.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim said. “I don’t think they’ve ever been this bad.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk more about them, you know I’m all ears.”

“Thanks, Mac,” Jim said, and he meant it. He heard footsteps, and Jesse Haley, Samuel Carver, Tanner O’Brien, and Ryan Smith all walked in the doorway.

“I’m starvin’,” Haley said, sitting down and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “What do we got this mornin’, ‘Tega?”

“Eggs and sausage,” Jim grunted, getting to his feet and grabbing the food out of the oven and scooping it out to everyone. Buckner and Forbes appeared in the doorway, both wiping bleary eyes. He scooped food onto Haley’s plate and said, “Morning to you too, Haley.”

“Mornin’,” the other man said with a grin.

Jim couldn’t help but smile. All of them were together: eight Shifters against it all, it seemed like sometimes. Soon, they were all laughing, telling stories, and having a good time.

Jim smiled. He always did.

But the truth was, for the past two years or so, his memories of his wife and daughter had come flooding back to him, coming to him with increasing frequency in his dreams that had quickly turned to nightmares. He smiled and tried to push the pain away.

“His name was Brian. He died saving my life. Only – he should never have had to do that. I should have done better. I should have protected him. Only I couldn’t. Because of me – my fiancé is dead.”