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But she had to go without it this time or she'd be late. She got there just before her time card would have had that telltale red stamp across it, not even two minutes early, cutting it as close as she'd ever done. She knew it was because she didn't have the napkin that the bell rang not ten minutes after she'd arrived. There was a fire in the woods behind the old Tamburlin place, with its rickety barn and fences and enough dry brush and sapling thicket to burn for a week.
Rose was relieved when they managed to put the brushfire out with almost no damage, even the abandoned barn untouched: the trees that had burned were due to be thinned out anyway. The strange figure she'd seen in the fire danced for a moment in front of her eyes, but fire was like clouds, you could see anything in it you wanted to. Even a man with stag's horns. She and the other firefighters played checkers and waited for the next call. The shift passed quickly.
She found the napkin when she returned home after the shift, under her bed. Despite no idea how it had got there, her relief doubled. Things would be okay. She'd found it. As she curled up in bed, seeking sleep that night, Rose tried not to think about how the napkin had become her talisman. It was a spur, a promise, a rosary on which to count off her sins. Trying not to think about it brought the memory back even more vividly. ~She was a new firefighter, only two weeks on the job. The little girl up in the cupola, the whole house burning, and the ladder deployed... the little girl waved that napkin out the window to get the attention of the firefighters below. Rose climbed up the ladder, every step slower than the last in her memory, to the few feet of roof she would have to traverse to the open window. Flames leapt~ She ripped her mind away from the memory, her hand clutching the napkin tightly. At length she drifted into uneasy dreams.
Sleeping nearly round the clock was not unusual for Rose right after a shift. She woke up just in time for the evening news. A wildfire only a hundred miles or so away was getting out of control. Her first reaction was wanting to help instantly, but she knew she was too tired. She called work anyway, talked about it with some of the guys, ended up deciding to go with Dave and Trevor who were planning to drive up there and offer their assistance the next morning. She packed carefully, making sure the napkin was in with her other things, and around 2 am tried to get a bit more sleep before heading out.
Dave's car horn honked outside, waking her from a dream. The imagery escaped on the sound, glowing eyes of fire, antlers lowered at her... she didn't remember. She shrugged clothes on and slung her duffel over a shoulder, locked the door and got into Dave's jeep. Trevor had moved to the back seat to let her ride shotgun, and she smiled a thanks to him. He'd been the guy who razzed her about being the only woman on the team -- she'd been first, there were three now -- but he'd become one of her best friends. She wasn't as close as Dave, but she thought highly of him, always had.
The team at the wildfire was organized, but stressed. They were glad to get three experienced volunteers to help. The three of them suited up, got their instructions and went out. Trevor was partnered with one of the core team, Dave and Rose were sent together to work on a fire break between the fire and a small housing development that would be in the path if the wind changed as the weather forecast was hinting. They cut, dug, cleared. Heavy work, tiring yet fulfilling. They kept swapping equipment, Rose on the bagger while Dave ran the chainsaw; Rose mowed while Dave used the compressed air to blow dry leaves out of the firebreak zone.
The wind changed when they were halfway done. Dave wondered aloud if they should go, but Rose shook her head. The fire was pretty far, though the smell of smoke was thickening in the air. Half a firebreak wouldn't do the people in those houses much good. They worked on for another hour, arguing whether they should leave yet, till Dave, fed up, radioed into the temporary headquarters set up for this wildfire. When he got no answer, he told Rose they should go check in, that he was going with or without her. He went without her.
Rose cleared with constant effort that was wearing her down but she wouldn't allow herself to rest. There was not enough time. All her efforts had to go into finishing the firebreak. She saw the figure in a cloud of smoke that had been haunting her. Twice as tall as a man, broad shouldered human form, stag's head with its huge rack of antlers, and burning red eyes. She thought the eyes must be stars shining through the smoke, turned red by the particles bending light. Something like a sunset. She didn't let it distract her.
Not until it spoke. "Give it to me," it said in a voice like the crackle of flame. She looked at the apparition, went back to work. Can't let it slow me down, she thought fiercely. It's just my imagination, I'm so tired. Keep going. The flames in its eyes leapt, their heat like a slap against her skin. "Give it to me." She didn't stop to wonder what it meant: she knew. The napkin. If she gave it the napkin, it would take the houses, she had to stop it, she couldn't let it win, let it burn homes, let it... she must go on. Sweat ran into her eyes.
The flames surrounded her, all saying with that crackling voice, "Give it to me." She screamed as flames burned her flesh, not yet enough to penetrate her fireproof suit, but blistering nonetheless. Her will crumbled, and she opened her suit. Pulling out the napkin, she threw it at the flaming stag-headed spectre. The pain did not stop, but it became far away, not felt -- and the flames took on a new aspect. The girl. The one who had waved the napkin out the open window. The girl held the napkin amid the flames, and she remembered it all -- the roof collapsing between her and the child, her inability to cross the mere ten feet between herself and the window, the girl's cries, the flames around her --
-- as Rose burned, the last thing she heard was the voice of the child she'd let die, saying, "I forgive you."