Conflagration

XXX

They took 277 back into town. As they turned onto Flint street Bill could see the pawn shop's façade. Two strings of police tape covered what was left of the shattered pane, forming an X that blew silently in the wind. A police car sat empty beside it with its lights still flashing.

"That where it happened?"

Bill nodded. He turned around the backside of the liquor store onto Second street. "You got a plan for when we get in here?"

"I don't know. I ain't never been inside."

"You what?"

"I was a year old when my pa left town. Whatchu think they serve milk at that bar?"

"You gunna know anyone there?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Bill shook his head and pulled into an empty spot alongside the building. At one time it had been a feed store but the front windows had long been bricked over and there was no way to get a look at what was inside.

"Ain't you gotta be a veteran to get in here?" Bill asked as they walked up to the door.

"Probably you do."

"So what're you gunna tell them?"

"I ain't. Just gunna flash this little guy right here." Sam pulled his keys from his pocket and dangled a bottle opener in front of him. On it was the Marine Corp's emblem. Semper Fidelis written in gothic at its base.

"What's that gunna do?"

"Get us in. My daddy left it for me."

"I think I seen a bucket of those for sale over at the Sunoco."

"You shut up." Sam pushed against the door. It creaked as they shuffled in.

The entrance room inside was no bigger than a closet. A man in a tan fishing jacket and jeans was sitting in a folding chair against the opposite wall. He looked up at them. White hair. Somewhere north of sixty. There was no phone in his hand. No cigarette. The chair was staggered in front of the door leading to the room beyond.

"Nice night," the man said.

The boys looked at each other.

"We were lookin to come inside."

The man looked them over. "You got some business here?"

"Of a sort."

"Of what sort?"

"Just hopin to see if we could get some help with somethin." He raised his hand to clear his throat. The key ring was hanging on his index finger. Emblem facing forward.

"What's that?"

"Just somethin of mine."

"You get that at the gas station?"

Bill caught his laugh a second too late. The man's eyes went from Sam to him and back.

"Y'all ain't from that damn baseball fundraiser again are you?"

"No sir."

"FFA? Chess club?"

"No."

"Well who are you?"

"Sam Janis."

The man's eyes which had been narrow up to that point slackened. He leaned a few inches forward in his chair.