Resurrecting Home

by A. American

  Eventually the men turned onto a small dirt drive. Mike made a quick dash so as to keep them in view. They were approaching a small trailer, dim yellow light filling the windows. As they walked down the drive, Mike saw their watch before they did. He was sitting on a bucket beside a small shed. Hearing people approach, he quickly ran up to the men, then shouted at the house. The door opened and others came out. Mike used the commotion to get closer to the house, staying inside the brush to conceal himself. As he crept closer, he was able to hear them talk. The three were retelling the story—their version, anyway. The other members of the group were understandably upset at the injuries, and talk of vengeance filled the air. Three of them said they would head back to the house and get those bastards. Mike quietly chuckled to himself—they’d never see the house or Mike before he shot them.

  It was the old man who stopped them from this plan. “No one’s going anywhere.”

  “What do you mean? We can’t let them get away with this!” another replied.

  In the glow of the NVGs, Mike saw the man raise his hands. “These aren’t the kind of men to trifle with. We’ve done what we need to do to survive, and we are the ones who usually put people in their places. Tonight we came against hard men. We didn’t even know they were there till it was too late. That older man had no emotion in his eyes. I don’t know how many of them there are, but they’re dangerous. Going back would only result in people dying.” The group remained silent as their sage spoke.

  “What are we supposed to do, then?”

  “Leave—leave as soon as we can,” the old man said, looking back down the dark drive. “For all we know they’re out there now.”

  “I say bullshit. We can’t let these people scare us off,” another group member said.

  The old man held his hands up. “Do you see this?” he shouted. “We could be dead!” He looked around. “We’ve met our match. It’s time to move on.”

  “Smart move,” Mike whispered to himself.

  The group went into the trailer, and Mike waited for a while to see if they would stay inside or not. He hoped they would—he didn’t feel like dealing with them. He was tired and wanted some sleep. After another hour, when no one appeared, he made his way back to the house. Sarge was leaning on the hood of the Hummer.

  “They’re not coming back,” Mike said as he walked up.

  “Good, where are they?”

  “Just down the road a ways in a trailer. There’s probably eight of them.”

  “I figured they’d try for some payback.”

  “Oh, they wanted to, but the old man had a sudden burst of common sense. Told ’em if they did they would more than likely die. He said they’d met their match.”

  “Good. Doesn’t seem like they’re going to try anything,” Sarge said.

  Mike laughed. “Nope, they’re probably scared shitless. What do you want to do?”

  “Let’s call it a night.”

  Chapter 14

  After finishing the watch, I sat on the porch for a while, thinking over our plan. The smoke drove me inside faster than I thought, not that it was much of a relief inside. As the weather was warming we were keeping the windows open, but the smell of smoke was inescapable. My head was swirling with thoughts of the next day, but I knew that having a good night’s rest could only benefit me, so I tried to shut off my brain. I quietly got into bed next to Mel, pulling the sheet over my head for a little relief. One of the girls coughed, and it broke my heart. I drifted off to sleep fitfully.

  Pounding on the door jerked me from my slumber. Grabbing my pistol I quickly went to the door. “Who is it!” I shouted.

  “It’s me,” Sarge’s voice boomed back. “Open the damn door!”

  “Who is it?” Mel asked, coming into the living room with a pistol.

  “It’s the old man.”

  “What the hell, man? It sounded like the police were here,” I said, opening the door.

  “Your ass shoulda been outta bed a damn hour ago. Come on, we got problems.”

  “What is it?”

  Sarge pointed off to the north. “That big-ass fire! Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Yeah, yeah, let me get dressed and I’ll be out.”

  Sarge tipped his hat and smiled. “Mornin’, Mel.”

  “Hi. You startled us.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Certainly didn’t mean to. We’ve just got to do something quick about this fire.”

  Mel looked out the door. “How close is it?” Then she saw the smoke billowing over the tree line across the street. “Oh no!” she practically shouted.

  I hadn’t noticed the smoke when I first came to the door, but now I didn’t understand how I could have missed it. “Oh shit,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, oh shit,” Sarge replied. “Get a wiggle on it, Morg.”

  I got my boots on as fast as I could and told Mel to get the girls up and bring them over to Danny’s. The old man’s stride this morning showed purpose. At Danny’s all the other guys were there, an impressive group gathered on the porch.

  “I finally got his ass outta bed!” Sarge barked as we approached.

  “’Bout time, Princess,” Thad said with a smile.

  “What the hell is this? Some kind of union meeting?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we’re organizing for better food and conditions,” Mike quipped.

  I laughed. “Good luck with that shit.”

  “All right, let’s get down to business,” Sarge said. Pointing with his stick, he continued, “That damn fire is just up the road, and we need to get our shit together before it gets here.”

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “It’s burning up to 445 now,” Danny said.

  “Damn, it moved fast.”

  “Yes, it did, now we have to figure out what we’re going to do about it,” Sarge said.

  “We cut some breaks in that field over there,” Thad said, nodding his head in the direction of the pasture.

  “We’ve got those tanks on that trailer, but that’s only good for spot fires. We have to hope that the field that wraps around here holds the fire off,” Danny said.

  “There’s no way we can cut a fire line out there in the woods. We just don’t have the equipment,” I said.

  Sarge looked at Tyler. “Your place is over there across the street, isn’t it?”

  Tyler pointed toward his house. “Yeah, right over there.”

  “I think we should move you guys out of there, over to this side of the street. That dirt road will be our last line of defense. There isn’t that much fuel here, so we may be able to hold it out there in that pasture,” Sarge said.

  “I think we should go take a look at it,” Thad said.

  Sarge nodded. “I agree, let’s do that.”

  Sarge, Danny, Thad, and I hopped into Sarge’s Hummer. The old man must have wanted to be a NASCAR driver at some point, because he only knew two speeds: stopped and wide-open. We were soon turning onto Highway 445, where we came face-to-face with the fire. As we rolled down the road we could feel the heat, like standing near a blast furnace.

  The sight of the destruction was shocking. Half of Shockley Heights had burned, and everything on the north side of the road was on fire. We saw some people running around in the hail of ash and cinders falling from the sky.

  “I think we’ve seen enough,” Sarge said. “This thing is going to jump the highway for sure.”

  Sarge wheeled the truck around and we returned the way we came, noting a couple of small spot fires already burning on the south side. Back out on 19, I directed Sarge to pull into the campground on Lake Dorr. We drove through the camp to the boat ramp.

  “See how things narrow down in here? We’ve got the road on one side and the lake on the other.” I pointed back to the north. “There’s a big bay head over there. The fire will have a hard time burning through that.”

  “You think this could push it around us?” Thad asked.

  “It’s already burning on that side of
the road,” Danny said, nodding to the west side of the highway.

  “Once it’s past the camp, it’ll have to cross a wide power line easement, not to mention a lot of brush over there has been cut. There isn’t much in the way of fuel,” I said.

  “So you don’t think it will burn all the way down here?” Sarge asked.

  “I think it’s a good possibility. Plus there’s another easement south of us, on this side of the road, that will act as another break.”

  “Let’s go check that out,” Sarge said.

  “Let me drive,” I said.

  I headed back in the direction of the house, turning off the road at a small clearing. “This is a gas easement. It runs at an angle behind our place, and makes a wedge between here and the road. I think the fire could burn down into here and stop.”

  “Is this the easement you were talking about, Morgan?” Sarge asked.

  “Yeah, this is it. It’s wide enough to make a difference,” I replied.

  As we bounced down the dirt track, Sarge asked, “Where’s your place from here?”

  Danny pointed back over his shoulder. “Over there about a mile. This may give us what we need to keep it away.”

  “A mile ain’t much.” Sarge rubbed his chin. “But I think you’re right: we should bring that water trailer and make our stand here. This wide track should really help keep it back, and we can knock down anything that pops up,” Sarge said.

  We all agreed and headed back for the house. The smoke was so bad outside now that the kids were inside.

  “All right, we’ve figured out where we’re going to try and stop this fire, or at least turn it away from us,” Sarge said.

  “Where?” Jeff asked.

  “There’s a gas line easement just up the road here. It’s a wide sandy patch, perfect place,” I said.

  “What do we need to do?” Bobbie asked.

  “We need to leave some folks here and everyone else needs to go. All hands on deck,” Sarge said.

  Once everyone was gathered, we went into the plan, explaining we were going to try and stop the fire at the gas easement. I laid out one of the maps and showed them where I was talking about, running a finger along the dashed line. Mel asked where it was in relation to our house, and I dragged my finger along the map a short distance. “Here.”

  “How far is that?” Mel asked.

  “A mile or so,” Danny replied.

  “That’s so close,” Brandy said.

  We went on to explain what we were going to do and how everyone needed to be ready to leave in case of an emergency. This particular point caused a lot of concern. Sarge took a moment to calmly explain the reason for it, the absolute importance of it. It was decided that Danny, Thad, Jeff, Jess, and I would go with Sarge and Mike to try and hold the fire, and everyone else would stay behind to keep security and be ready to leave should it come to it. Once everyone was clear on what was about to take place, we started getting things ready.

  In short order, everyone was assembled. We’d have my truck—the small red one with the water trailer—Sarge’s Hummer, and two ATVs with us. Danny led the way, with everyone following him off the road onto the easement. Thad drove the small red truck down the dirt road a ways so it could quickly move either direction. While he and Danny were priming the Striker pump, I handed out the gear we had: shovels, axes, Pulaskis, and beaters.

  The smoke was so thick in the woods that visibility was cut to only a few yards. The hot white cloud seemed to cling to the ground, rolling outward. All we could really do was wait.

  “Notice how the smoke is so close to the ground?” Thad asked.

  Sarge looked up into the gray soup hanging over our heads. “Yeah, must be high pressure. Maybe a storm’s coming.”

  “Somehow I don’t think we’re that lucky,” I said.

  “Hell, if it started raining right now, anything short of the storm ole Noah witnessed would be like pissing into a volcano,” Sarge replied.

  “I’ve done that before,” Mike said quickly.

  “Done what?” Jess asked.

  “Pissed in a volcano. I did that once,” Mike replied.

  Just as I was about to make a smart-ass comment back to Mike, a crashing sound came from the woods followed by a large cloud of ash and embers that soared into the air. The temperature suddenly started to rise as well, heralding the approaching flames.

  “Let’s spread out along the road! Call out if you see any fires start on the south side of this line!” Sarge shouted.

  Everyone started moving rapidly. Jeff rode back down toward the end of the road on the ATV. He had one of the beaters with him, its base resting on the footrest and its flapper end sticking up in the air. The black flapper waved back and forth as he sped away. He looked like some sort of surreal standard bearer rushing into battle. “Morgan, what is that?” Jess asked, pointing to a couple sections of pipe coming out of the ground.

  “That’s part of a gas line that runs through here.”

  She walked a couple of steps, then asked, “You mean like natural gas?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Should we be here, then? I mean, is it going to blow up?” she asked, fear in her eyes.

  I laughed to myself. The possibility of a gas line had never occurred to me. But there wasn’t time to worry about it now.

  “I don’t think so. I doubt there’s any gas in it—that should have run out a long time ago,” I replied.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Best I can offer you: it should be out of gas by now. Besides, the fire isn’t going to burn across here. That’s why we’re here,” I said. I didn’t bother telling them that the empty line was far more dangerous than a full one.

  As the inferno approached, things changed: the wind picked up, being drawn toward the flames. Then there was the sound, a hellish, constant roar.

  “Let’s move back toward the trees here,” I yelled, pointing to the opposite side of the easement.

  As we moved I looked down the clearing. I could see Danny and Thad to the east with the truck and trailer. To the west, the Hummer with Sarge and Mike. It looked like the set of some really bad spaghetti western, with everyone in bandannas and all the smoke. Once we could hear the blaze, it wasn’t long before we could start to see the flicker of orange back in the trees on the other side of the easement.

  “Let’s go. That’s what we’re here to stop!” I shouted as I ran toward the small fire. Everyone followed and, using the beaters and shovels, we quickly put the small spot fire out. “Keep your eyes open. That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the truck suddenly move toward the far side of the cleared strip. Then I saw the smoke in the direction they were headed, so I started to jog toward them. I could see Danny on the trailer holding on to the water tank as they bounced along. The truck pulled parallel to the tree line. Danny jumped off before the truck stopped. He pulled the pump off, setting it on the ground, and quickly started it. By then Thad was dragging a hose out into the woods.

  When I got to them they had two hoses going on a small but aggressive fire in a thick stand of pine trees. Using my shovel, I raked the debris back around the edge of the fire, containing that side. With two hoses going, it didn’t take long to knock the fire down to a soggy, smoking mess. It struck me that this all happened without a word being spoken. We were dragging the hoses back out when Jeff roared up on the ATV.

  “Fire down here!” he shouted, pointing east.

  We quickly piled the hose and pump on the trailer. Thad ran back to the truck while Danny and I clung to the tanks. When we jumped off, it was clear that this fire was much bigger than the one we’d just dealt with. Danny was setting the pump down when I grabbed a hose and took off running into the woods—that is, until the hose stopped, the nozzle jerked from my hands.

  Turning around, I could see Danny trying to untangle the line. He started waving at me and I picked the nozzle back up and continued on. Getting close enou
gh to the flames to be able to hit it with water I felt the pressure rushing through the hose and opened it up. A blast of air was followed immediately by the gush of water. It wasn’t long before Thad added another hose to the fight. Danny and Jeff were working the edge of the fire with shovel and beater, slowing the spread.

  For the next few hours we repeated the process again and again. Some of the spot fires were close to the clearing, some were farther out into the woods, requiring Thad to drive the truck out into the bush to get the hoses close enough to bring them to bear.

  “We need to refill these tanks. They’re nearly empty,” Danny said, panic edging into his voice.

  “Shit, shit, shit. Let’s run over to the lake,” I said.

  Jeff pulled up on the ATV, his face black with soot. “Done? I’ve been out there in the woods putting out the little fires while you assholes played in the water.”

  “How’s it look down there right now?” I asked.

  Jeff looked back down the sandy swath. “It seems to be slowing down now.”

  “Follow us over to the lake, then.”

  “Hell yeah, I could use a dip!” he said.

  The public boat ramp was only a couple hundred yards down the road, and we were there in no time. Thad backed the trailer down the ramp to get the pump close to the water. To fill the tanks we had to disconnect the pump from the tanks, connect the suction hose, and drop it in the lake. This is where the priming pump came in handy: being able to use the small hand pump connected to it to quickly prime the pump.

  As we were getting the pump set up there was a stampede of bodies down the ramp and into the water. Jeff ran down the ramp yelling like a wild man and dove into the water with a whoop. He still had his boots on, engineer-style motorcycle boots. When he stood up, the slick bottoms found no purchase on the algae-covered ramp, his feet immediately went out from under him, and he was back underwater in no time. Everyone was laughing when he came up.