Conflagration

L

When he finally allowed for her to stand Dynamite's head was swimming. The heroin coursed heavy through her veins.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he took a prescription bottle out of his pocket and dumped a fresh cluster of pills into his palm. They were round and green and glittered like diamonds. He took them dry and closed his eyes as he swallowed. When he was finished he led her naked to the couch and went to sit her down.

"No," she said and grinned. "Let me."

She placed her hand on his chest and guided him back until his legs were bent by the cushions. He fell onto them and she climbed onto his lap, both legs straddling. He took off his shirt and she traced his collarbone with her mouth until she noticed that his eyes had also glazed over. He had not noticed the back end of Earl's truck protruding through the tent's wall or the wires that ran up from a hole in the stage's foundation. Or the explosives they led to. And as his face grew lax and his breath slowed she knew that he never would.

Outside there was a noise. Something like a distant firework. The slamming of a door. The Reverend turned and looked at it dreamily. Dynamite pressed her fingers against the side of his face and guided it back until he was facing her breasts. He cupped his hands across her shoulder blades and she rocked back and forth in his lap.

There were screams followed by the ratatat of shots being fired. The two were too lost in each other's arms to notice. Too high to witness what was unfolding around them. After another moment he leaned into her ear and spoke loudly so she could hear him over the gunfire.

"Say it. Say it to me."

She opened her eyes.

"Say what to you?"

"What you say to all the others."

Dynamite grinned.

"You want me to?"

He nodded. "Do it."

She leaned forward and licked his earlobe and spoke. Her hand delved into the space between the cushion and the couch and there hidden she found the box and the safety latch over the switch on its surface. She rested her finger on the latch's lip.

"When I was younger I used to work construction," she told him. "I was in charge of blastin in strip mines across the state. We did a good bit of work too. I used to take the tops off of mountains. Flatten the peaks and all. I got pretty good at lightin a fuse. And if there's one thing I learned durin those years, it's how to blow your mind."

"That's good."

"No. That's gospel."

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back so that he could look into her eyes. He studied them for a moment. Then he nodded.

"I may save this whore yet," he said.

When he let go she leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue probing, looking for a soul and finding him without. Then she broke from him and said:

"How can you save this whore when you can't save yourself?"

His eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed. Her finger flicked open the latch.

"It's true," she continued. "What I said about blastin. And you were right too. About me not bein able to leave this place. This life."

He shook his head as if he didn't understand.

"I can't leave this place. And now you won't have to neither."

She leaned in until she was an inch away from his face, feeling his breath against her skin.

"Now say Amen," she told him.

"Amen," he said.

And Dynamite blew them both to hell.