Hot Southern Nights

by Gen Griffin

  “That's David's place.” The tension was clear in his voice. “He's not planning any bonfires. We don't even have a burn pile out here right now.”

  Trish felt her heart drop into her stomach as they sped towards the fire. She could see smoke billowing out through the trees that surrounded a narrow dirt driveway. Bits of orange flames were visible through the pines. Addison kept a steady stream of obscenities going under his breath, too low for Trish to understand the words but loud enough for her to get the gist.

  Addison took the corner into the driveway without letting off the gas. The gray Ford cornered hard, slid sideways and smacked hard into a pine tree. Trish's head hit the passenger's side window, but Addison didn't act as if he'd even noticed the impact. He twisted the wheel hard and sent a spray of dirt flying up behind them as he drove straight towards the fire.

  An old single wide trailer came into view as they cleared the tree line. The porch was engulfed in bright orange flames that were licking their way across the front of the walls. Smoke was pouring through several open windows.

  “Fuck. Oh fuck.” Addison locked up the brakes and came to a sliding stop at the very edge of the driveway. His wide turquoise eyes were wide with fear and horror. “The fucking truck is still here.”

  Trish followed his gaze. A dark blue Toyota pick-up truck was parked a few feet back from the flaming porch. It was on fire with bits of smoke and ash spewing out of the cab. The paint was starting to peel off the hood.

  “Oh God,” Trish whispered.

  Addison flung the driver's side door of the truck open. He looked over at Trish. “Use my radio to call this in. Tell Katie there's a fire at 404 Highway 72. Tell her it’s David Breedlove's place. Tell her to tell the fire department that they better fucking fly.”

  “Where are you going?” Trish was already reaching for his police radio. Her hands were shaking.

  “I'm going after my best friend,” Addison told her. Something in the flames exploded with a loud pop, covering his truck in a bright wash of light. A second later he was gone, running straight towards the fire.

  Trish pressed the button on the microphone and began calling for help. She prayed the firefighters would arrive before Addison got himself killed.

  Chapter 11

  Addison ran towards David's trailer. He was choking on the thick smoke that was billowing out of the ancient matchbox. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered all the jokes he and Cal had made over the years about how the trailer would go up one quick burst if it ever caught fire. Those jokes weren't funny anymore.

  He wasn't going to be able to go in through the front door. That much was obvious. The front door was a mass of flames so bright that they burned imprints against his eyelids. The room he usually slept in was closest to the front door. Flames were licking their way out of the window he'd left open. He wasn't going to be able to go in through the window.

  Addison gagged on the thick smoke. He'd never wanted anything more than to run away from the flames and smoke, but he was betting his life that David was still inside the trailer. The Toyota wouldn't be in flames in the front yard if David had gotten out. David loved that ancient, ugly little 4 cylinder truck. He'd have saved it right after he saved himself.

  Addison jogged around the back side of the trailer. He was praying like hell that the back door wasn't melted shut. If he couldn't get through the back door then it was probably all over. If David had fallen asleep in the living room, the way he liked to do, it was all over.

  The back porch wasn't on fire yet but the doorknob burned Addison's hand as he snatched the door open. A wall of flame and smoke swooshed out at him. The flames knocked him backwards on his ass. Tendrils of fire began licking at the large, abandoned propane gas tank that sat just off the edge of the porch.

  Addison's blood ran cold. David had converted the trailer from gas to electric nearly five years ago after a problem with the pipes had left him without heat or water for a week. He'd never gotten around to having the highly flammable, highly explosive tank removed. Or emptied. Hundreds of gallons of propane were sitting less than twenty feet from the inferno in the trailer.

  Addison was on his feet before he finished his thoughts. The sound of shattering glass echoed from somewhere behind him as he realized that if he didn't move now then he was going to die.

  Chapter 12

  The trailer was on fire and David couldn't force enough air into his lungs to breathe. The ancient single-wide was going up in a ball of orange and red. Flames were licking their way up the walls in the hallway. The walls burned like they were made of thin paper. Embers flew in all directions. One of the embers caught his chin, burning into his flesh as sharply as a lit cigarette would have.

  In a distant part of his mind, David wondered if Addison had come home from work and fallen asleep in bed with a lit cigarette. He wondered if Addison had burned to death in his bed, less than 100 feet away from where David was sitting now, watching the flames approach. The thought of his best friend dying jarred David back to the reality of his own situation. He was going to be a very crispy critter if he didn't move. Now.

  David flung the comforter away from him as the edge of it began to smoke. He was never going to make it out the front door of the trailer. The hallway between his bedroom and the door was totally engulfed in flames. The windows would be his best option. Unfortunately, the windows had been stuck shut for a couple of years now. He grabbed hold of the 12 gauge shotgun that he always kept beside the bed. He smashed the butt of the gun into the glass of the window. The window gave with a loud crack. Three more solid strikes and the glass was gone, laying on the ground below like a spiteful booby-trap.

  The room was filling with smoke now. Flames were spreading across the carpeting of the room. David tossed his shotgun out the window and then jumped out after it, landing barefoot in the broken glass below. Flames came whooshing out the window behind him as the curtains caught fire.

  Someone grabbed David by the arm and began dragging him back away from the burning building. “Get up. Dammit, David. Get up. I can't-cough- fucking – cough – carry you.”

  David looked up at Addison blearily. He felt dazed and disoriented. “You're not dead.”

  “Not at the moment. We will be if the damned propane tank behind the house goes.” Addison yanked David to his feet. He was dragging him backwards, away from the flaming trailer. Pieces of the roof of the trailer were starting to come off in burning chunks. One of the burning shingles landed next to David's foot. Addison stomped on it.

  “My truck.” David's eyes fell on the Toyota. His little truck was sitting parked in its usual spot next to the front porch. The hood was engulfed with flames. It burned like a funeral pyre, sending flames 15 feet into the air.

  “Too late for the truck.” Addison kept pulling David towards the highway. David wanted to go back to the trailer. He wanted to try and save his truck. Addison wouldn't let him go. “Dammit David, come on.”

  There was no breeze tonight, David realized. The fire was unlikely to spread to the woods that surrounded his house. Addison was right about the propane tank though.

  “The fire is going to spread to the propane tank.” David barely realized he'd said the words out loud.

  “No shit.” Addison had to fight against the smoke filled air to get the words out. “I just said that.”

  All of a sudden, David could think again. At least, he could think enough to realize that if they didn't put a whole lot more distance between themselves and the fire, they were probably about to die. David quit fighting against Addison. “We should run away now,” David told him.

  “You think?” Addison wheezed as he released David's arm.

  “Yeah.”

  They ran.

  Addison's gray Ford truck was idling in the driveway. A pretty girl with long black hair was sitting in the passenger's seat. Her eyes were wide as David yanked open the door.

  “Scoot over,” he told her.

  The girl scoot
ed obediently and David slid into the cab of the truck. He slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Did you call the fire department?” Addison asked as he got into the driver's seat.

  “I ain't called nobody.” David's lungs felt like they were on fire but he supposed it could have been worse.

  “Yes, but they're not coming,” the girl in the center of the seat said. She took a deep breath as she turned her wide gray-blue eyes on the fire. “Katie said for me to tell you that the Callahan County Fire Department took both of their running fire engines to Canterville. Apparently there's an apartment building on fire there.”

  “You've got to be shitting me.” Addison grabbed for the radio and squeezed down the talk button. “Katie, it's Addy. You seriously telling me we can't get a fire truck out here?”

  “Are you okay?” Was the reply. “Please tell me you and David are okay?”

  “We're fine,” Addison said. “We both got out. We're barely even burned.”

  “Oh thank Jesus.”

  “Katie, we need a truck. The entire trailer is fixing to burn to the ground.” Addison watched as the flames continued to grow, reaching high into the sky.

  “But y'all are both okay?” Katie repeated.

  “We're fine.”

  “Oh God. Addy, I know David's going to be pissed but I don't think we can justify pulling a truck back from Canterville. The Beverly Holmes Apartment Complex is on fire. It's bad, Addy. There are hundreds of people living in that complex and half of them are really old or really poor with young kids.

  I called Tate Briggs right after your girlfriend called the first time. He told me that he wasn't going to be able to get to y'all in time to save you if the trailer was already on fire. He said that there wasn't a point in sending one of the trucks to you. He said you'd either be able to get David out or your wouldn't.”

  “Tate's not sending a truck.” Addison cursed under his breath.

  “He says there could still be more than a hundred people trapped in burning apartments right where he is. If you and David are both okay then he's not going to leave to go extinguish a structure fire with no causalities.”

  “Tell Tate that I said that we have fucking priorities and-.”

  David snatched the radio out of Addison's hand. “Tell Tate he's fine right where he is and that we understand,” he said calmly.

  “David?” Katie asked.

  “It's me. Tell Tate it's fine. It's just an old ass single wide. Tell him to worry about saving the people in those apartments.”

  Addison looked over at David with clear disbelief. “What if the fire spreads?” He demanded.

  “It won't,” David replied. “The creek will keep the fire from spreading too far and there are no other houses for nearly a mile in any direction. I don't think it will spread real far. There's no wind tonight and it's been raining all week. The ground is still pretty muddy.”

  “But what about all your stuff?” Addy asked. “Tate's job-.”

  David shook his head. “Tate's the fire chief. His job is to control fires and save lives. Nothing I had in that trailer was worth a life. Hell, most of what I had in that trailer wasn't worth $100. I have insurance on it, Addy.”

  “You're just going to sit here and watch your house burn?”

  David shrugged his shoulders tiredly. “I ain't worried about it.”

  The black-haired girl who was riding with Addison looked over at David. “You're not worried about it?” She asked with clear disbelief.

  “Not enough to risk anyone's life.” David tilted his head at her curiously, taking in her wide-set gray eyes and plump, carefully glossed lips. She had great curves showing under a silky dress and her skin was the color of fresh cream. She was quite possibly the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. “I'm David. You are?”

  “Trish,” she said, looking baffled.

  He offered her a shaky smile. “Don't suppose you brought any marshmallows?”

  “Fresh out.” She nearly smiled back at him.

  The propane tank behind the house exploded. Chunks of wood and melted plastic rained down on the truck as a fireball consumed the ancient trailer.

  David had to avert his eyes due to the intensity of the blaze. When he was finally able to look back, the trailer had been dissolved into a skeleton frame surrounded by a pile of burning debris. “Well, there went that,” he muttered.

  “Dude, the house ain't coming back from this,” Addison said.

  David leaned back in the passenger's seat and closed his eyes. “Pappy's been giving me shit about needing a new house anyways. I reckon I'll eat some crow. Cal will help me build myself a new shack if I ask him to.”

  “He is about to get his contractor's license. I reckon you can be the first official client for his new construction company.” Addison sounded halfway thoughtful.

  David nodded.

  “You don't seem real concerned about the fact that we're watching your place burn to the ground,” Addison said. “You okay?”

  “What good is panicking going to do me?” David asked reflectively. “I'll still have a massive fucking headache and no house. We can't fix this.” He pointed at the raging fire.

  “True.”

  “We're alive and it was just a house.”

  Addison didn't have the chance to respond before his radio started squealing again. “What's gone to hell now?” Addison asked as he squeezed the talk button.

  “Don't hate me, but I need you to haul ass into town,” Katie said.

  “Katie, I'm kind of busy. David and I are sitting here watching his house burn to the ground.”

  “And Ida Young is sitting on her dining room table holding her chihuahua and praying you'll get to her before the alligator under the table figures out how to use a chair.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Addison snapped. “Why did she let it inside?”

  “She says she forgot to lock the doggie dog,” Katie replied with a sigh. “Addy, tell David I'm sorry.”

  “He can hear you.” Addison glanced over at David and nodded. “Tell Kerry to go shoot the alligator.”

  “We still can't find him,” Katie replied. “Your Uncle Frank, J.B. and Ian are all in town trying to corral the escaped gators but they're really not doing such a hot job of it. Frank's already said that if I weren't 9 months pregnant and supposed to be on bed rest, he'd have me out there shooting. He says there must be 60 gators loose. Easy.”

  “The alligator farm have another mass escape?” David asked.

  “Yeah.” Addison nodded at him. “That's why I'm here. I was swinging by to see if you'd come help play alligator rodeo when I saw the house was on fire.”

  “Well, what the hell are we sitting around here for?” David asked.

  “Um, your house is burning to the ground. I kind of figured we should at least supervise the process.” Addison pointed at the flames.

  “It's too damn wet out here for the fire to spread. Besides, I'm getting bored.” David shrugged his aching, blistered shoulders and forced a smile he definitely didn't feel. “Let's go gator hunting.”

  Chapter 13

  “Poor old alligator never stood a chance against you, did he?” Addison stared skeptically at the dead alligator that was laying in the middle of Ida Young's dining room. The massive reptile had a sterling silver candlestick holder jammed through its right eye.

  “He tried to eat my Bitsy.” A small-boned little old lady in a peach flower print bathrobe and curlers stood next to the table holding a three pound dog. “But I need one of you boys to get that candlestick holder back out of that thing. It's part of a matched set and they were my grandmother's.”

  “Naturally,” David muttered.

  Trish was glad she hadn't gotten around to eating dinner as David bent down next to the alligator. He braced one knee against the gator's neck, pinning it to the ground while he yanked the heirloom silver from the alligator's skull. There was brain matter and blood dripping from the end as he set it back down on the table.
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br />   “Ew,” Trish said.

  “Never stabbed an alligator through the eye with a real antique before?” He asked with a slight smile on his thin lips. He was standing in the middle of the room with Addison's hunting rifle slung over one shoulder. Trish hadn't gotten a very good look at him in the truck, so she was startled by the brilliant dark green color of his hooded eyes when he turned his full attention onto her.

  “Never killed an alligator, or anything else, in my life,” Trish clarified. She was more interested in David then she was the alligator. This was the first time she'd seen him with enough lighting to actually see how good looking he was. Of course, he was only good looking if a girl had a taste for bad boys.

  “Oh boy.” David's dark brown hair was too long and fell into this eyes. He pushed it back as if it were an annoyance. “You ever shot a gun before?”

  “No,” Trish said warily as she sized him up. He was 5'10 or 5'11 and he was wearing battered work boots that made him look like he cleared 6 feet. His boot cut jeans had a shredded look that was definitely not the product of some manufacturer's design inspiration. He had too many tattoos for Trish to count. The body ink started right above the collar of his black t-shirt. Trish assumed the tattoos wrapped down across his chest because the ink reappeared underneath the sleeves of the shirt and ran most of the way down his lean and muscular arms.

  “Guess tonight is going to be a learning experience for you,” David said with a smirk. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the revolver that he'd taken out of Addison's glove box. He held it out to Trish. “Take it.”

  “No thanks.” Trish waved the gun away. “I wouldn't even begin to know what to do with it.”

  “I'll teach you,” David said. Trish noticed that his nose was too long and bent pretty hard to the left. She was willing to bet that he'd been punched in the face and never bothered to get it reset.

  “I don't know-.”