“We had to make it dramatic,” Carlos grunted, pulling her up.
They slammed the metallic tents into the scorched soil. Four bodies, two sets of twins, huddled inside the shimmering heat-reflective fabric as the firestorm passed over them. The sound was apocalyptic—a freight train of rage. The air grew thin. The heat was a living thing, trying to pry the shelters open. double trouble hotshots
The “black” was the already-burned area behind them. It was safe, but getting there meant traversing a steep, scree-strewn slope. “We had to make it dramatic,” Carlos grunted,
Carlos felt Diego’s hand find his in the dark. Finn and Sasha, on the other side, linked pinkies. In that oven of noise and fury, they became a single heartbeat. “We had to make it dramatic