Jason Lane's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

After Ren's truck pulled away, Jason walked back to the crew camp. The tents stood in a tight ring around the coordination board. Someone had already drawn a red X through his name on the duty list. No one looked up when he stepped into the clearing. The foreman had driven four fire axes into the staging board near the brush piles. Shovels lay scattered in the dirt below, dropped where men had quit working. It was a message. Jason set his leather field log on a stump between them, open to the page where he'd signed off on the redirect. "I made the call alone," Jason said. "I shouldn't have. The burn still needs to happen, and I need you to light it with me tomorrow." He tapped the log. "My name is on it. If it goes wrong, it's mine. But I'm asking." The foreman stared a long moment. Then he pulled one axe free of the board and dropped it into Jason's hands. The others watched. One by one, they picked up their shovels. Not forgiveness. Just work, returned. Jason closed the log. The crew was his again, barely. But the foreman spat into the dirt and said the district supervisor was driving out in the morning to ask why a burn line had moved without paperwork. Jason nodded. He had bought one day, and he had used up every favor to do it.