The Fire Man

“Are you crazy?” I screamed. “Why are you still here?”

“The Lord'll provide,” the old fool answered. He lifted a wrinkled brown bag from his lap and took several gulps from a bottle hidden inside.

I stood outside the broken window not believing my ears.

The four kids at his feet looked at me over their father's shoulder.

I took a quick backwards glance at the trees at the edge of my grandfather's dilapidated property. Thin trails of smoke blew directly toward us from across the dirt road. Something furry and in flames came tearing out of the brush along the road and disappeared into a drainage ditch.

“I told you to get out, now you have to get out!” I said to the back of the man's head.

“We ain't leavin'.”

“There's a fire coming!”

“Got nowhere to go.”

“The fire!” I screamed. “You gotta leave right now!”

Nobody moved.

“You kids!” I said. “Listen up; we're going for a swim in the lake!”

To my surprise, all four immediately stood up.

“Can we, Daddy?” one asked.

“Go,” their father said.

They came outside holding hands and eager. They eyed me up and down.

“You a fire man?” a kid asked.

“No way,” said another.

“Get in the back seat,” I said as we ran for the truck. Thick smoke was now rolling toward us from out of the trees like something skulking toward our scent.

My hands and shirt smelled of kerosine and motor-oil. “We'll be okay,” I said touching the ignition wires together..

“We forgot swim trunks!” said a tiny voice from the backseat.

“The Lord will provide...” I heard myself say and gunned the stolen truck down the driveway.


w/c 297