Wildfire!

by Elizabeth Starr Hill

  Several other families brought their blankets and food to the shelter of the oak. Elliot and his parents came with the puppy. The little dog was panting in the heat.

  “May we join you?” Mrs. Lorton asked.

  “Why sure.” Grandma smiled.

  “You bet,” Grandpa added. “Sit right down.”

  “We’re not used to weather like this,” Mr. Lorton said.

  “Well, Florida summers are fierce till you get used to them,” Grandma said.

  “I don’t think I ever will.” Mrs. Lorton sighed.

  The pup tried to climb into Ben’s lap. He still wasn’t wearing a collar or leash. Elliot grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back.

  “What’re you going to name him?” Ben asked. Elliot shrugged. “Dunno.” His first interest in the pup seemed to be wearing off.

  Mrs. Lorton asked, “You’re Ben, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled. “Isn’t it nice that Elliot has a dog now? He’s never had one before.”

  She made it sound as though the whole world should rejoice.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ben said.

  “I’ve told the boy he’ll have to take good care of him,” Mr. Lorton said. “That teaches a kid responsibility,” he added to Goomby.

  “Mmm,” Goomby responded.

  “I wonder if we should have brought a water bowl for him,” Mrs. Lorton asked.

  “I should think so,” Goomby answered. “Take this.” She handed Mrs. Lorton a bowl.

  “Oh, thank you.” Mrs. Lorton took it and filled it with water from her thermos. The pup lapped thirstily. When the water was gone, he looked up hopefully, as if asking for more.

  Elliot was gazing off to where the parade was forming. He paid no attention to the pup.

  More and more people gathered. Many were waving little flags.

  Soon the band struck up “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Everyone scrambled to their feet. The parade began.

  Bending Creek’s Yankee Doodle Dandies, the marching band, led the way. They were followed by stars from Miss Louise’s dance classes, who pranced forward, twirling batons. They threw the batons in the air and spun them, caught them, then tossed them up and caught them again, never dropping one.

  “I don’t know how they do that,” Grandma murmured.

  A slow-moving open car appeared, carrying Mayor Jolson. He was standing, flourishing a big straw hat. People cheered and applauded.

  Then two police cars passed, sirens blaring, cops waving, and everybody cheered again.

  Next came decorated vehicles advertising local businesses. Mr. Meehan from the grocery was driving a truckload of brightly colored fake vegetables and giant jars of food. Mr. Meehan was popular in town. The crowd laughed. Somebody called out jokingly, “Hey, Meehan, you gonna have a special on those tomatoes?”

  Cindy, the craft shop lady, had glued balls of knitting yarn and sequins onto a banner and wrapped it around her car. Mr. Cass, who owned the bowling alley, was dressed as a clown. He walked along juggling pins while an assistant rolled a huge make-believe bowling ball behind him.

  Last, and best, was a float bearing Bunny Johnson, Miss Bending Creek. She wore a pink dress and a rhinestone crown. The float was decorated with hundreds of paper roses, and Bunny, perspiring but smiling gamely, waved and waved.

  At the end, the Yankee Doodle Dandies appeared again and played the parade off, to more cheers and applause.

  People settled back down on their blankets.

  “Wasn’t that something?” Grandma said proudly to the Lortons.

  “Our best parade ever!” Goomby agreed.

  Mr. and Mrs. Lorton murmured something polite. But looking at the ground, Elliot muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Ben felt a stab of anger and shame. He wished Elliot would go away, but no such luck.

  Mayor Jolson climbed to the bandstand. He made his usual speech about freedom and how this was a day to remember.

  Ben could tell from Elliot’s face that he thought the speech was dumb and boring, just like the parade. Just like everything else in Bending Creek. And this year there wouldn’t even be fireworks.

  Ben had looked forward to this day so much, but now he saw it as Elliot did, and it seemed empty and flat. He wished there were something more to look forward to today, something unexpected and exciting.

  Mr. Olsen, who was the scoutmaster, organized games for the kids, but they were the same old games. There was a tug-of-war, a ringtoss, a lot of pickup games of catch. Ben and Al Mason were partners in the three-legged race. They won. Elliot won the ringtoss. In the tug-of-war he and Ben were on the same side. It seemed to Ben that he pulled a lot harder than Elliot, but he wasn’t sure Elliot noticed.

  Ben played until he was tired, but he still wanted something else to happen. Something different.

  He sat with some of the other kids on the ground under an orchid tree. The tree had been pretty earlier in the summer, covered with deep pink flowers. Now it was sun-dried and sorry-looking, like everything else.

  “Usually we have fireworks after dark,” Lucy Johnson was telling Elliot.

  “My kid brother brought a lot of sparklers last year,” Jimmy Kyler said.

  “I set off a lot of stuff with my grandpa,” Ben said. He added, “We would have done that this year, too. We already bought them.”

  “What did you do with them?” Elliot asked.

  “We still have them over in the truck,” Ben said.

  Elliot’s eyes got interested. “Right here, you mean?”

  Suddenly Ben felt uneasy. “Yeah,” he said. “But we can’t set them off this year. You know that.”

  “Sure, I know that,” Elliot said with his superior smirk. “But how about firing just a few of them? Who’d ever know?”

  “Oh, do it, Ben!” Lucy chimed in excitedly. She was an older girl, always a ringleader in any kind of trouble. “We oughta have fireworks!”

  A restless little itch scratched inside Ben. He thought of rockets exploding, of all the real fun of the Fourth of July. Finally, this day would become special!

  He hesitated. “We might get in a lot of trouble,” he said.

  “We could take them down to the lake,” Lucy put in. “Nobody’d see us from here!”

  “Somebody might,” Jimmy Kyler offered timidly.

  “You’re always such a chicken,” Lucy told the little boy scornfully.

  “I dare you,” Elliot told Ben. “Bet you don’t have the nerve.”

  Ben’s face reddened. “Sure I do. It’s just—” he stammered.

  “Just what?” Lucy demanded.

  “Double dare you!” Elliot taunted.

  “Okay! Okay! I was thinking of doing it anyway,” Ben lied. A thrilled, reckless feeling took hold of him. “Meet me at the lake right after the band concert.”

  “Oh, gee,” Jimmy Kyler said apprehensively.

  “Are you in or out?” Lucy asked him relentlessly.

  Jimmy was not a ringleader of anything, but he usually followed any suggestion. “In,” he quavered.

  Four or five other kids were gathered around them. “Don’t say anything to anybody else,” Ben cautioned. They all shook their heads.

  “Okay. See you there then.”

  They nodded numbly.

  Giddy with power, Ben told Elliot, “That means you, too.”

  “Right.” Elliot grinned. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  5

  Together Ben and Elliot returned to their families. Ben flung himself down on the blanket near Goomby. She had spread out jugs of lemonade and sodas and more food. All over the park, people began eating and drinking again.

  Mrs. Lorton had been holding the pup. Now she handed him back to Elliot. “I think he’s hungry.”

  Elliot nodded absently. He gave the pup some meat loaf.

  The band concert began. The sky was turning rosy gold with sunset. The music was tuneful and familiar. People hummed the old
songs. It was a peaceful time of day, but not for Ben. He felt more and more nervous.

  The Yankee Doodle Dandies started “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” This was always the last number in the concert.

  Ben jumped up and murmured to Goomby, “Be back soon.” She nodded, and he sprinted away, carrying an empty Coke bottle with him. He could feel Elliot watching him, waiting for the concert to end.

  At the truck, he looked back to be sure nobody could see him. The parking lot was a fair distance from the picnic area, with trees and bushes in between. The sun was setting, and smoke dulled the air. Anyway, nobody was near enough to catch a clear view of him.

  He heard applause at the finish of the concert. Ben knew most people would stay for a while, enjoying the last of the day. Someone began strumming a guitar.

  He got the box of fireworks and some matches from the pickup. The box was pretty big, but not too heavy. Still holding the empty Coke bottle, Ben balanced the box against his chest and lugged it to the path leading to the lake, at the far end of the park.

  The tall trees of the forest loomed around the lake. Many of their needles had turned brown in the drought. Ben took the box to the rock where he and Grandpa had set off fireworks the year before—when there had been plenty of rain and no worries about fire.

  Ben glanced at the tinder-dry forest, then put his own worries and hesitation out of his mind. Lucy and Jimmy and the others were running along the path toward him, with Elliot close behind. The pup was running loose around Elliot’s ankles.

  “Welcome to the Fourth of July show!” Ben called. He wrenched the top off the box and took out a rocket. Then, aware again of the nearness of the pines, he hesitated.

  “Let’s get started,” Lucy said.

  “It’s not dark yet,” Jimmy Kyler objected. “Anyway, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

  “Come on, before everybody chickens out,” Lucy urged Ben.

  Elliot strolled up. “Maybe Ben’s the chicken.” He smiled coolly.

  “Who, me?” Quickly Ben took out a rocket. “This is it! Get ready!” He stuck the rocket’s long balsa-wood tail into the Coke bottle and set the bottle in the sand. Now the rocket’s black nose was pointed to the sky, slightly over the lake.

  Ben’s hands were sweating. They shook a little as he lit a match and ignited the fuse in the tail. He shouted, “Stay back, everybody!”

  They all knew it was dangerous to get near the rocket once that fuse was lit. The puppy barked, confused, following first one person, then another. The fuse burned up to the rocket’s red body, the part that was filled with explosives. When it reached it, the rocket shot into the air in a high arc. It made a shattering noise and burst into a shower of colored floating sparks. They drifted toward the water, and toward the towering pines.

  The puppy yelped in terror and rushed away, running for shelter in the forest.

  Ben yelled, “Come back!” But the dog was gone, out of sight.

  Elliot said, “Hey! That was great!” He moved toward the box. “How about some more, Ben?”

  Suddenly the fun was over for Ben. He could hear the puppy, yelping still. He slammed the box shut and said to Elliot, “You better get your dog! He went into the woods!”

  “Oh.” Elliot looked around, then groaned. “How am I supposed to find him in there?”

  Ben didn’t answer. He plunged in among the trees. “Here, boy,” he called. He wished the dog had a name. “Come back, fella!”

  Behind him, one of the kids said, “I need to get back to my folks.”

  “Me, too,” Lucy Johnson decided.

  They began to disperse.

  “Hey, Ben, wait for me!” Elliot called. He blundered toward Ben through the pines as the terrified little dog scampered ahead.

  6

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Elliot gasped after a few minutes.

  “No,” Ben admitted. He had never been in this part of the forest before. He seldom roamed in the woods, even near his own house. Much of the ground was rough, littered with fallen sticks and branches from past hurricanes, and overgrown with vines and scrub palmettos.

  They could hear the headlong flight of the puppy ahead. Finally they glimpsed him and trailed him deeper into the woods.

  Sunset faded from the sky. A weird misty dusk blanketed the forest. The boys ran on and on, first this way, then that. At every twist and turn they could see the pale form of the puppy, scrambling, small and desperate, far ahead of them.

  “It’ll be dark soon.” Ben heard the fear in Elliot’s voice.

  “I know that.”

  After a while the puppy slowed down. For a few moments Ben thought they were gaining on him. Then the dog spotted an armadillo and dashed sidewise after it, barking. With surprising speed, the armadillo raced off through the fallen palm fronds. The puppy, following in this new direction, went after it.

  Ben and Elliot groaned. The pup was farther away from them than ever. But he couldn’t reach the armadillo. At last he faltered and gave up.

  “Good boy! Come here!” Ben called. He clapped his hands.

  The pup looked in his direction.

  “That’s it! Come on!” Ben called.

  Exasperated, Elliot echoed, “Here! Now, you dumb dog!”

  The pup took several steps toward them. Then his attention seemed to be diverted. He looked away. After a minute Ben saw what the dog saw. About forty feet away, a group of wild pigs were rooting in a clearing. The last light of day shone down through the break in the trees and illumined them plainly.

  Ben had always known that huge pigs lived in the woods, but he had seen them only a few times. They moved around mostly at night, hunting for food. They were about three feet tall at the shoulder and large-bodied, with dark bristly hair and sharp tusks. The boars—the males—guarded the group, and Ben knew they could be ferocious, especially when protecting their young.

  And among the other pigs were two young piglets.

  Curious, the pup moved nearer the group. One boar separated from the others and grunted warningly. It trotted a few steps toward the puppy. Obviously this boar was ready to defend the whole group against danger. It was the largest of them all, its tusks glimmering like curved knives.

  The dog barked, sounding a little scared now.

  “Oh, no,” Elliot moaned under his breath.

  The pig grunted again and trotted nearer.

  This sent the pup into a frenzy of barking. He made a short rush at the boar. He stopped before getting too near. But the pig came after him, snorting and grunting angrily.

  At last the pup got scared enough to turn and head for Ben, away from the boar. The boar kept coming. The pup was right in his path, and in front of the pup were Elliot and Ben.

  Elliot panicked. He ran, stumbling in the near-dark, getting away.

  Ben stood his ground, badly frightened. Then he raced toward the pup. The enraged boar was getting closer by the moment.

  Before the furious pig could reach them, Ben managed an extra burst of speed and scooped up the quivering puppy. Holding the dog in his arms, he reversed direction, trying to choose a way that offered the best chance of escape.

  Outside the clearing, dusk was darkening to night. It was hard to see much of anything. Ben knew the best thing he could do would be to climb a tree, but none of those around him had low-enough branches to give him a foothold. And climbing with the puppy in his arms would be almost impossible anyhow.

  The pig snorted. It was only a few yards away now. And Ben knew that it was capable of tearing them both to pieces.

  7

  He had to take cover. Desperately Ben scanned the small visible space around him. He could make out a clump of scrub palmetto nearby, its stunted clusters of short trunks and fronds forming dense bunches of foliage. Holding tight to the puppy, Ben dived into it and burrowed until he and the pup were out of sight.

  His heart pounded. He felt as if his chest might burst.

  The pup whimpered softly, then q
uieted.

  Ben waited. The boar was right outside the palmettos. He heard its harsh, angry breathing. But it did not charge the dense foliage.

  Ben waited. He knew the boar was still there, and he didn’t dare move.

  Then there were new sounds. It was as though a strange mood was overtaking the forest. The woodland creatures were stirring. Ben heard a wide rustle of squirrels and armadillos through the underbrush, and a quiet but hasty slither of snakes.

  He peeked out between palmetto fronds. The boar was not far from him, but its gaze was set in another direction.

  Ben looked that way. A glow had appeared in the woods. The boar snuffled, lifted its head, and sniffed the air.

  Ben smelled it, too. It was a faint new wave of smoke.

  A river of fright seemed to rush through his stomach. The glow brightened against the sky. Then flickers of orange and red light showed through the trees.

  Ben recognized them with horror. Flames. There was a new fire in the forest.

  He remembered sparks from the exploded rocket drifting over the trees. This was just what people had feared might happen, what the whole town had been warned about—the reason fireworks had been banned.

  The boar snorted and tossed its head. It trotted back to its group and began rounding them up.

  A deer crashed through the woods, escaping from the fire. The puppy trembled and tried to hide his head against Ben’s chest.

  Holding him, Ben clambered out of the palmettos. He sensed the alarm of all the forest creatures. Darting lizards raced up trees, then down again, then off to fallen logs. A great horned owl hooted overhead and flapped away.

  “Ben!” Elliot’s frantic voice called from somewhere. “Help me!”

  “Where are you?” Ben shouted. “I can’t see you.”

  “I don’t know where I am,” Elliot answered in a despairing wail. “Help me! I hurt my leg!”

  They exchanged a few more shouts. Finally Ben found Elliot lying on the ground beside a fallen log. “What happened?” he asked.

  “I jumped over the log and landed on that thing.” Elliot gestured to a low spiny yucca called Spanish bayonet. Its long, rigid leaves were as sharp as swords. “Cut me up so bad—” Elliot extended his leg so Ben could see it.