Beach Apples

Firesticks - Heat

Author's Note : I first wrote this story for a SciFi Smackdown - Mythpunk.  Since then I took it down when I published it in my Beach Apples collection.  I wrote the story nearly two years ago in the middle of a heat wave with bushfires burning around the state.  We have just finished four days over 40C and as it's only the beginning of summer, I thought I'd re-post the story here.

I used pictures #3 grand house, #4 explosion in the city, #6 tired superhero and #8 woman with baton. The three quotations are in bold.

Rather than picking a European, or generic western myth, I have based my story around an Aboriginal legend "The First Fire" which explains how fire was first discovered.

Short summary: Fire was brought to earth by two members of a tribe of people who lived in the sky near the two brightest stars,(their campfires). They came to earth to hunt possums for food but while they were busy hunting, the firesticks got bored and started to play 'chase,' starting fires wherever they touched the ground. Some Aboriginal people saw the fires and were afraid, however then they realised how useful fire could be and lit some firesticks for themselves.

~~~

Firesticks - A story in 4 parts

Heat

Ken pulled off his damp teeshirt, dragged his chair underneath the ceiling fan and flopped down, wearing only his wet board shorts. He stretched out sandy feet and closed his eyes, the wind from the fan ruffling his auburn hair and temporarily drying the sweat on his forehead. He wished for the hundredth time that he had invested in air conditioning, but it was too late now, in the middle of a heat wave. He doubted there would be any units left in stock anywhere in the city. Even the pedestal fans had sold out two days ago at his local shopping centre.

He'd gone down to the beach for a swim this morning, just after dawn and come home as soon as the temperature reached 37 C or 100 F in the old scale. At about 9 am. It seemed as if half the dog owners in Adelaide had had the same idea, to take their dogs for a walk and a swim before the sun became a furnace. The water's edge was lined with people in swimming outfits, many of them elderly, walking back and forth between the Grange and Henley jetties. Occasionally one would throw a tennis ball in the water for their dog to chase, creating much splashing and doggy excitement.

By 10 am, it was too hot, even for the beach.

On his way home, he had seen thick clouds of smoke hovering above the city as if there had been an explosion. Graphic evidence, not of an explosion, but of a disaster nevertheless.

Even here, at home, he could smell the distinctive scent of burning eucalyptus. Although he was safely inside the house with the windows shut, smoke whispered through air vents and under doors, carried west from the bushfire raging out of control in the hills behind the city. It had been burning since yesterday evening, ignited by one of the hundreds of lightning bolts which had struck the ground all over the state. The sky had been blue black with thunderclouds, crackling with thunder and lightning and maybe a total of two drops of rain had fallen. Dry lightning they called it.

Ken was pretty sure the clothes hoist in their backyard had been struck, but the lightning didn't appear to have done too much damage. The clothes hoist was still in one piece.

In a minute he'd get up and have a cold shower, change, but before that he needed to check if there were any messages from Jerry. He flipped open his phone. Nothing. He tried not to let it worry him, he knew it was unrealistic to expect Jerry to call him today of all days but he couldn't help hoping. Maybe there would be some current news on the TV. He reached for the remote and turned on the 24 Hour news channel.

It was the hottest day so far on record, the thermometer climbing past 46 C or 114 F. Currently there were fifteen bushfires burning around the state.

The picture of a large house surrounded by burnt trees filled the screen. "Earlier today, Marshall House had a narrow escape from the flames," announced the commentator. "A crew of more than fifty CFS volunteers worked all night to protect the National Trust property. Another fire in the Barossa Valley is still burning in scrubland, but is currently within containment lines." The camera switched to a scene from the previous evening. Orange flames covered the ground, burning stumps glowed like jewels in the dark, grey smoke billowed between the trees, all rather beautiful if you didn't know what it was.

"But back to our main story." The camera showed a smartly dressed woman in a blue power suit, looking earnestly into the lens. "The fire near Mount Barker is still burning out of control, threatening livestock and property. A catastrophic fire warning has been issued for the entire Adelaide Hills. Residents of Littlehampton, north of Mount Barker have been advised to leave their homes."

Ken found he was sitting bolt upright, balancing on the edge of his seat. Littlehampton, that was where Jerry had been going today, one of the hundreds of volunteer heroes South Australia relied on for protection. A member of the Country Fire Service.

The picture moved to a shot of androgynous figures in yellow suits. Ken peered uselessly at the screen, was one of them Jerry? He couldn't tell.

If only he could have been out there with him, protecting his lover's back, but he knew it wasn't possible. Although he was also a member of the CFS, helping with the administrative work, his damned asthma prevented him from taking an active role in fire fighting. He would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

He sat glued to the television screen. He knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he heard from Jerry, no, he wouldn't be able to relax until Jerry was safely home.