Set Me Alight

by Leviathan, Bill

  “Yes, get the boys ready, Pete. Fortunate for us this is accessible by road. We can take the Forestry car.”

  Jim, Tim, and Slim weren't hard to find. It wasn’t exactly a big office, and there wasn't anything they had to do right then. We all hopped in the car. Paul drove. He slammed on the accelerator and we were blasting our way to the waste facility.

  “What exactly do we do for a fire at a waste facility, Paul? It's not like we're bringing any equipment with us, and what if this is some sort of crazy chemical fire?”

  “They should have everything we need to fight the fire there, Pete. We just get called in for assistance. In theory, we should be better trained to fight this than what they have on staff.”

  “That's a good one.”

  “If this is a chemical fire, it’s going to be different than anything else you boys have faced or trained for. We better hope that they'll have all the safety gear and fire suppressants we need. Just water isn't going to do anything here, especially if it’s some kind of metal burning.”

  The four of us just kind of sat there nodding at Paul in silence, not having a clue what would be an appropriate response to anything Paul was saying. There really wasn't much room for us to add our own input. It's not like we knew jack shit about fighting fires in reality. We had all helped dump some water a time or two, but nothing serious. I hoped that it would turn out to be a small, easily manageable fire, but nothing in my life had turned out to be easy.

  The waste facility was a giant, sprawling labyrinth of garbage. I had no idea what constituted any of the endless number of piles of waste, but I could only assume none of it would be good in a fire. Thankfully for us the place was open to the air, so the threat of breathing in whatever toxic fumes were being spewed out by the fire was somewhat lessened. Mother Nature may not have been so appreciative of that fact, though.

  Paul went to one of their facility managers and said, “What's the situation here? Do you know what's burning and how it started?”

  “No to both, but we're fairly certain that you don't want to be breathing in any of that smoke. We've got some sort of gas masks over there, and some sort of powder we're supposed to use for fires.”

  “Ok, we got this. Pete, Jim, Tim, Slim, put on the masks. I'll ready the powder. We don't have much to work with here, so we're going to be sending this stuff through what amounts to a leaf blower into the fire. There's going to be nothing in the air you want to breathe or get in your eyes.”

  “What about on our skin?”

  “That's not going to be good for you either, Pete, but it doesn't look like they have real firefighting suits here. Make sure everything's covered, and hope for the best.”

  “I don't like the sound of this one bit, Paul,” Slim said.

  “Neither do I, boys, but we got to make do with what we have.”

  Paul wasn't kidding. We were putting the powder in some sort of hopper strapped to our backs that was attached to what looked like a leaf blower. It reminded me of those high-end water guns the cool kids in the neighborhood had when I was younger.

  “We need to stick together and move through this. Everyone form a line, standing about ten feet apart, and we'll start sweeping through this. Follow my lead.”

  “Roger that, Paul.”

  I don't know what was going through Paul's mind, and it didn't seem like there was going to be much thought coming from the rest of us, either. We were spraying this powder wherever we saw fire. It was surprisingly effective at putting everything out. The fires seemed weirdly individual and spread out a bit. It wasn't just one large continuous fire like I was anticipating. It made it easier to move through and suppress.

  “Boys, over there! There's some scaffolding that's going up and it looks like there are workers on it too!”

  We all raced over to put out the flames. Workers who weren't too high up stared leaping off. Some of them didn't make the prettiest looking landings. If the area wasn't already flooded with the sound of fire and our chemical spraying machines, I'd be hearing the snapping sound of their ankles giving way beneath them. Some of them were too high up to jump, and the fire had already spread up there.

  “Pete, Slim, come with me up this thing. We can't spray the powder up that high. Tim and Jim, keep the surrounding area under control until we're done.”

  Slim and I began following Paul up the series of ladders and walkways. This was one hell of an elaborate scaffolding setup they had. I guess they needed a way to dump the waste on the top of this pile, which seemed to be a few stories high, and it must have been cheaper to pay some schmuck to haul it up on his back than to use a crane.

  The whole time we were climbing, some of the wooden boards were giving way above us, sending flaming shards of wood and embers into our faces. We had to get above the fires to be much good at fighting them, which meant we were climbing through a fire before we could put it out. As we were heading up, the workers were scrambling down. It seemed like a never ending stream of them. Between the workers running around like scared ants, the fire, the smoke, and our powder, I couldn't see jack shit. I had no awareness of my surroundings. The only thing guiding me was Paul's voice, hardly audible with this gas mask surrounding my head and his mask muffling his shouts.

  We were on the level second to the top, and all of a sudden the boards right above us burst, and a worker fell through. He landed between Paul and Slim and myself.

  “Pete! Quick! Grab him from the fire!”

  I rushed in, grabbed the guy by his shirt, and starting hauling him out of there. Running completely on adrenaline I had no sense of the fire and embers that were burning away at my clothes.

  “Slim! Clear them off and I'll take care of the fire.”

  Slim started patting us down to try and put out whatever burning crap was on the worker and myself. I looked over and saw Paul spraying down the flames. It looked like he had almost got it all put out, and then suddenly, I could see the fire work its way up his stream toward him. I screamed out “Paul, NO!”

  In the blink of an eye there was a small explosion and Slim and I were knocked back. When I looked up I could see the whole area were Paul was looked like inside of a kiln. Just hot, red, burning death. I got on my feet and ran toward it.

  “Paul!”

  I felt Slim grab me by the arm. “Are you crazy, Pete!? What the hell are you doing running into there?”

  “I have to get Paul, God dammit!”

  I shrugged off his grip and made my way toward Paul. I made it no more than one step before my legs were taken out underneath me as Slim tackled me to the ground.

  “This whole situation is FUBAR, Pete! We have to get the hell out of here! Paul's gone in some fiery hell. Get your shit together and save yourself.”

  Slim got off of me and started leading the worker down the scaffolding. I looked back toward where Paul was again. Nothing but flames. I kept staring at them hoping I'd see him jump through unscathed. As I continued to look, seeing the fire creep closer and closer to me, I began to accept that Paul was gone. I still had one choice to make, sit there and die with him, or find the will to get up and get out of there. I like to think I got up because I knew it’s what the old man would have wanted, but as the fire got closer the realization of the pain and torment of burning to death was what drove me back down the scaffolding. Paul was gone, and I needed to get the hell off that scaffolding.

  I was able to catch up with Slim as he had to assist the worker down, who looked like he busted his leg as he fell through the scaffolding. I tried helping them myself as best I could, though the entire time I just wanted to ditch both of them to save my own ass. Paul was gone, what the hell were we going to do now?

  We got to the bottom and met up with Tim and Jim as they were fighting off the ever encroaching fires. It seemed like we were about to be swallowed up. It was just the devil reaching up to the world to collect a few more souls. Then, same as what I saw happen to Paul, the fire seemed to work its way up Tim and Jim's powder streams,
and they burst into flames. I could hear their wails of pain for a brief moment, before I imagine the fire sucked all the air from their lungs. Paul was gone, and now Tim and Jim too.

  “What the fuck is happening here, Pete!?”

  “Like you said, Slim, this whole thing is FUBAR. Just run for your God damned life.”

  At that point we had just bailed on the worker we helped down the scaffolding and took off running. I'd like to feel bad for that, but to be honest I didn't give a shit. Paul was gone. There wasn't anyone I gave a damn about any more. The sooner I could make it out of there, the better, but everyone else could go fuck themselves. Paul was gone, and I was getting the hell out of there.

  We made it back to the entry of the facility, where the facilities manager still was. I ran up to him, grabbed him by his collar, and started screaming, “What the hell is going on here, man!? What's in that powder you had us using? Three of us are dead now. Paul is gone!”

  “I-I-I don't k-know. They just told us it was to be used if a fire broke out. I know nothing else!”

  “Who the hell is 'they'?”

  “Upper management. They gave me a call yesterday saying we were to be getting our fire suppression supplies replaced.”

  Too much was happening at once now. Paul was gone, this whole place was going up in flames, and this worthless waste of space was no of help to anybody. I tried to concentrate on what to do, but the only thing running through my mind was that explosion that took Paul, over and over again. Seeing the fire spread back through the powder toward him, then getting knocked on my back, then back to the beginning to see it all again. All while the sound of the waste facility burning and crumbling pounded inside my head.

  Now I could hear a new sound. Some sort of rumbling off in the distance I couldn't identify. As it got louder and I was able to tell what direction it was coming from, I could see helicopters coming toward the waste facility, carrying what looked like giant buckets underneath them. When they finally arrived there, they started dumping powder on the fires, and they looked to be doing a pretty good job of putting everything out. Angels soared down from the heavens to come and save us. Save all of us, except for Paul.

  “What the hell are those?”

  “They’re the mining company's. They're used for fire outbreaks.”

  “Why weren't they here earlier? What were you doing calling us here when you have God damned helicopters!?”

  “HQ said they were inoperable at the time. I guess they fixed them or got the firefighting equipment ready or something.”

  “You fucking guess!?”

  The cavalry had arrived, and Paul was gone.

  Chapter 5

  Paul was gone, and I started drinking again. I don't think I had been proper drunk since he took me into the woods all those months ago. It was amazing what a little time off did to my tolerance. I finally had a steady job with as decent pay as I could hope for, and it cost me about half as much to get slammed as it used to. It's just great how life can work out in your favor like that.

  Speaking of my job, I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to last there. The season was almost over, and without Paul to speak for me, it wasn’t like Patti was going to want to keep on some foul mouthed brat. It didn’t help that I had been coming in groggy and hung over more often than not. What the hell could she have expected from me? The only guy in the world who had ever been sympathetic toward me went up in a ball of flames, and those two other guys as well. Slim had already run off to God knows where. I would have followed suit, but I wasn’t exactly sure where to go. The only place that seemed welcoming to me was the old reliable Sink Hole. The people there don't give a damn about you or your sad sack life story. A place I could go and be miserable in peace.

  “How's it going this morning, Patti?”

  Sighing, she said, “Fine, I guess. Once you get settled in, let me know. I have to discuss something with you.”

  “Get settled in? I only came in for a new venue for my naps. Just talk to me now.”

  “OK, Pete. At this point I'm not sure how much you care, but this department is closing down. Not just for the season, but for the foreseeable future.”

  “What made the state decide that?”

  “This department costs the state too much for too little return. The mining companies are offering to provide their firefighting services to the public free of charge. There's not much we can do to compete with an offer like that.”

  “Alright, well, what to do we do now? Turn off the lights and go home?”

  “We need to turn over all equipment and records to the mining companies.”

  “Fine by me if they want to take some crummy old bike and stacks of water tank inspection forms.”

  “Pete, they're also requesting all the documents Paul got from his brother. Do you know where they are?”

  “Uh, yeah, he kept them in a storage unit. How did they even know he had them?”

  “I mentioned to them that he was reviewing old documents of theirs. Now they're demanding everything be returned as it's still legally their property. They said if you don't return them, they'll press charges against you for theft.”

  “Way to go, Patti. Here, take this key and give it to them. The unit number is engraved on the key. I hope you can get it to them before they decide to club our knees. Anyway, I'm out of here.”

  “Aren't you going to help me collect and organize all this junk for the mining companies?”

  “You just fired me, Patti. Deal with that crap yourself.”

  “You're a real asshole, you know that Pete?”

  “I don't need to be reminded.”

  Well great, the inevitable had finally happened. I expected to get fired, but not for the whole place to go under. Though without Paul, there wasn't much left there. A Paul-less firefighting crew would do more harm than good to Helena. Can't say I expected much from the mining companies, but I was sure they'd at least protect all the people living in proximity of their properties.

  Back to the only place that had ever loved me, the Hole, staring down the neck of a bottle. The crowd there had changed a little since the last time my life had bottomed out like this. Every now and then I saw this group of young punks sitting in the back corner. They wouldn't be all that noteworthy if they weren't the only people who spoke up to say anything other than ‘another’ to the bartender. I saw one of them on occasion looking up toward me, giving me this weird stare. It creeped me the hell out. It was similar to how Paul eyed me up before he took me in. I hoped to God I hadn't fallen so low that some pimpled faced little punk was going to be the one to turn my life around again. What could they possibly have provided me, advice on how to best pair Jager with Red Bull?

  Shit, all that pointless pondering had left me just staring back at the goon. He must have taken it as an invitation to chat because he was walking over toward me. Why must my eyes always betray me?

  “Hey man, are you Pete?”

  “Yeah, how the hell do you know my name?”

  “We used to have a mutual friend.”

  “You don't say? Never met one of my Eskimo brothers before.”

  “Uh, no, not like that. I mean Paul. I knew him too.”

  “Yeah I figured, shithead. I've only had one friend here. It wasn't hard to guess.”

  “Anyway, Pete, we have a thing going on later tonight. I want you to stop by.”

  “Listen, kid, I'm not buying you and your friends liquor. You'll have to find someone else to supply your grade school party.”

  “It’s not anything like that, man. Just quit the sass and meet us by the old 7-11, ok?”

  “Fuck off kid.”

  What the hell did he want to show me at some old, abandoned, run down convenience store? Some dead alien they wanted to poke with sticks? I felt like at best it was some trick to get me on the edge of town to jump me. Maybe it would just be a childish prank, like a good pantsing or a wedgy. Seriously though, what the hell could they want to have talked to me a
bout? And how did that dimwit know Paul? Is that the kind of company Paul kept when I wasn't around? I was trying my best to hold onto my ideal image of Paul. I didn't need that twerp tarnishing that image all of a sudden.

  Whatever. I was almost out of cash and my credit at the Sink Hole was no good. I figured I would swig down the remaining dregs and head their way. My shanty shack was along the way, so I would have ample time to change my mind and just stay home and weep myself to sleep like most nights if I so chose. Though, since doing that had lead me to having my best friend dead and getting fired from the only good job I’d ever had, maybe I should have considered changing things up. Go on an adventure. Or at least as much of an adventure as I could go on with a patchy-faced, barely post-pubescent wannabe tween.

  Well, there went my house. I might as well have kept on walking to the 7-11. Turning back would be backtracking, and I can't begin to verbalize how much I hate wasting footsteps on ground I've already covered. At that point, I had to just meet the kid, look him in the eyes, and try not to cry too much as his friends pulled my underwear over my head. The joke was going to be on them, because there was no way my underwear had the structural integrity for that kind of harassment.

  I could see the 7-11. It looked like there was only one person there. It was hard to tell, but I thought it was just the kid who spoke to me at the bar. I guessed it was past bed time for the rest of the gang. The odds of me receiving school yard bullying had dropped by a significant margin in my mind.

  “Hey, Pete, over here!”

  “What are you yelling at me for kid? And why is it only you here? Where are the rest of those brats you were with at the bar?”

  “I have to go over some things first before we meet up with the rest of the crew. Is that ok with you?”

  “Fine. Whatever. I don't really care anyway. What the hell did you drag me all the way to the outskirts of town for?”

  “I needed to make sure no one would be around us to overhear anything. People are watching me and my crew, Pete. They’re watching you too, if you haven't noticed.”