Excerpt from Hotshot by River Selby, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Chapter 3
Deploy

"Firefighters must never rely on fire shelters. Instead, they depend on well-defined and pre-located escape routes and safety zones. However, if the need for shelter deployment should ever arise, it is imperative that firefighters know how to deploy and use the fire shelter." —Six Minutes for Safety, National Wildfire Coordinating Group Publication

I'd first heard the term "Shake n' Bake" applied to fire shelters back on the contract crew. The guys on Solar Hotshots used the same gruesome nickname, but as a verb. As we drove up into the foothills for our final day of training one of them said we were "going to Shake n' Bake." The nickname rendered death abstract; a joke rather than a possibility. None of us wanted to believe we would ever have to use a fire shelter for protection, but they have saved over seven hundred lives since the 1970s. Fire shelters resemble flimsy silver pup tents: layers of silica and aluminum strong enough to protect us from ambient heat, direct flames, combustive heat, and toxic gases capable of killing someone on the first inhale. In the 1950s the Australians came up with a bell-shaped structure that, over time, researchers elongated and shrunk closer to the ground, where breathable air is most plentiful. The adhesive layers separate above five hundred degrees Fahrenheit, exposing whoever's inside to temperatures that can exceed fifteen hundred degrees. Fire shelters are a last resort, deployed when there is no other choice. During any wildland firefighting operation winds can change in an instant, rapidly shifting a fire's direction or increasing its intensity. If firefighters haven't maintained a clear escape route and safety zone, or have somehow been cut off from these, they're caught in what's called an entrapment. If the fire is actively overtaking them, and they must deploy their shelters, this is called a burnover. Entrapments and burnovers are immediately investigated by the jurisdictional agency, who must follow federal guidelines for investigation.

Since the '90s, approximately fifty firefighters have died while using a shelter.

Phillip had us swap our silver shelters for tarps modified into practice shelters. We drove up into the foothills and donned our line packs. After a short hike we began digging fireline, half-working, ears perked for the drill. Jonah, my squad boss, had told us it would be quick because Phillip was there, and Phillip hated being on the fireline with the crew, especially when it was so hot out. The chainsaws had only been buzzing for half an hour when Phillip yelled for us to RTO. We all stopped working, reversed tool order, and headed back towards the buggies single file, taking our time until he yelled, "Fire's coming! Get going! Get hiking!" Then we sped up. I stayed close to Max, who was usually behind me. Owen's voice boomed "Fire's behind you! Drop your gear! Keep your shelter!"

I unbuckled my line pack, fumbled for the back compartment, and tugged at the Velcro opening, struggling to extract the bulky practice shelter. Intellectually I knew it was a drill, but my body was panicking. Time slowed as Owen screamed for us to get going, get moving, the fire is coming! Finally my shelter popped out. I tucked it under my armpit and abandoned my pack, keeping my Pulaski. "Deploy, deploy!" Owen's voice boomed. I was momentarily paralyzed. Drop my shelter to clear the space, or hold my shelter and clear the space? I dropped it, frantically sweeping away crispy pine needles and dried leaves, then tossed my Pulaski, unfurling the shelter and grabbing the upper straps before sticking my boots into the bottom corners and collapsing into the dirt, where I pressed my face into the cool ground. The shelter was dark and quiet. A few feet away plastic rustled. Phillip screeched: "Fire's here!" The sound of rustling plastic crept closer until the straps of my shelter lifted. I clamped my hands and feet down hard.

Excerpted from HOTSHOT © 2025 by River Selby. Reprinted with the permission of the publisher, Atlantic Monthly Press, an imprint of Grove Atlantic, Inc. All rights reserved.