Fire Starter

The trees on the other side of the town wall were sticks. It hadn’t rained in almost two months; the forest floor was full of dried leaves and twigs that would crunch when stepped on. Connor was happy when he was back within the town walls, where the trees and fields were watered, the vegetation lush. Nothing looked like it was slowly dying, choking on drought. The walk around the walls of the city was quiet, solemn. Connor had to almost jog to keep up with his father. Even though he was no longer Fire Chief, every four years during Fire Week, which marked the start of Fire Season, the Community would stop watering the surrounding trees and vegetation, letting the natural drought take place.

Connor’s dad would take Connor and walk around the city walls, taking in the dry and dying vegetation before the controlled forest fires would set in, clearing out the deadwood and creating healthy soil and lush forests that the Community was famous for. No other place had such rich forests, not anymore. The forests surrounding the community always brought plenty of tourists, but not during Fire Season.

The Community forbade it, outsiders who tried to come within the Community’s borders during Fire Season would be arrested, jailed for the duration of Fire Season, and fined heavily, never allowed to come back. Connor hated Fire season. This was the second Fire Season his dad was no longer Fire Chief. The second time that Connor and his dad walked around the walls of the community alone, broken off from the rest of the Community. The second time Connor watched his dad hold everything in, trying to act like being so close to the fire had no effect on him. He had been closer to the fire when he was still Fire Chief, but he wasn’t Fire Chief anymore.

Although he no longer had any official responsibilities during Fire Season apart from talking to the children about the dangers of fire, Connor, and the rest of the community all secretly thought that Fire Season was the hardest on the ex-Chief. He was the first member of the Community in 53 years to be injured by fire. He was the youngest, at 43 to had scarring by fire. He went to the main city for his treatments, the scar tissue caused by the falling flaming tree branch-and the depression that followed took months of physical and mental therapy, something that the ex-chief preferred to endure through away from the prying eyes of the small community. It didn’t stop the whispers.

The smell of cigarette smoke had Connor trying to control his breathing and clutching his chest, hoping his father wouldn’t say anything. Whenever Connor felt worried, or scared, or angry, or any other emotion that made his father wilt before him, he clutched the locket his grandmother gave him.

It had a picture of his grandparents on one side, and a picture of his dad holding him as a baby on the other. His grandmother had a feeling he would be a girl, and when he was born a boy she gave him the locket on his 5 birthday anyway. Connor loved it.

Connor and the ex-chief were the last two to re-enter the city walls, before they were shut to the public for a month. Only the Fire Chief and Fire Fighters could enter or exit. The rest of the village walked around the town’s walls once, Connor and the ex-Chief walked at a brisker pace, but around twice. The ex-chief didn’t’ want to show weakness, so although he couldn’t bear to walk at the slow pace of the Community, he walked twice so he wasn’t the first one back inside the gates, although no one in the Community would blame him. But the sympathetic looks cast on him and his son were almost worse than being shunned like an outsider, like the Fire Starters.

Connor was relieved when it was time for school. He could get away from his dad, and his silent controlled sorrow at least for a few hours. Even before he resigned as Chief, and he would have to leave Connor with the neighbours, the ex-Chief always gave the first safety talk to the Children during Fire Week.

After the accident, his talk became even more important. As the first person marked by Fire in 53 years, his very presence gave the younger members of the community a sense of urgency. That they must obey the laws and stay away from Fire. The older members of the community felt sad, none of them felt like they could comfort the ex-Chief, and so he lived in a strange type of isolation. Still an active member of the community, but a large, wounded part of him was never talked about. He did not share his thoughts on his rehab and therapy when he was in town, he did not talk about his health, he did not talk about how much he missed being fire chief, not even to his son.

Fire Week was the only week the Ex-Chief would talk about, or even mention the word fire. He had always been quiet, never speaking unless it was necessary, his words heavy and meaningful. It was a trait passed on to Connor, which is a strange trait to find in a boy of 12, in any community. Whether it was because he was unusually quiet, or because of who his father was, Connor had only one friend, Ryan, the son of the current Fire Chief.

“Everyone!” Mrs. Simmons, the third grade teacher clapped her hands three times and every child in the community immediately sat down on the floor. There were around 40 children in the community who were elementary school age, ages 4-12. The third-grade classroom had the most floor space and so, every year, the children of the community of Oak and Leaf Valley sat down on the worn red and brown carpet and listened to their parents and their friends’ parents talk about fire.

“Now that recess is over I hope you all give your undivided attention-“ Mrs. Simmons looked directly at James Martinez as she said this. James, who Connor had never seen stop talking for an adult, seemed to freeze and whither under her gaze.

“-to Mr. McEnroe who was the Fire Chief of this Community for 15 years.” Connor twisted his hands in his lap, trying not to jump as James’ sneakered foot jabbed him in the hip. Connor turned around, mouth open to call on Mrs. Simmons when his dad started talking. Connor turned his head back to face his father, just in time to see him give him the same look he gave Connor when he didn’t finish his dinner. Face burning in shame, Connor didn’t turn his head back to meet James, although he knew that James must be smirking at yet another victory. Ryan nudged Connor’s other hip with his elbow, Connor briefly looked at him and smiled, clutching his locket and trying to breathe evenly. Whenever his dad talked about Fire, it was as if Connor was burning from the inside out. As if there was fire inside of him. The school counsellor called it anxiety and asked if everything was okay at home. Connor didn’t go back to her after that.

Fiona Brown’s hand shot up, narrowly missing Connor’s face. She shot him an apologetic glance, snapping Connor out of his reverie. He hadn’t noticed it was question time already.

“Yes…” Connor mouths Fiona’s name to his dad, hoping he can see it.

With such a small portion of the community being children, it was a given that everyone knew who you were, and who your family was. Connor had never met a person in his life who didn’t know who he was.

“-Fiona.” His father briefly smiled at him, reminding Connor of the old days, when during Fire Week his dad’s eyes would twinkle at him, sharing a silent joke.

“-was wondering why in the city my cousin who is younger than me was allowed to light the candles on her dad’s birthday cake. Or why they have real candles.” Fiona was saying. Several children gasped, not believing her.

“That’s a lie, you’re just trying to sound special,” James yelled. Fiona turned around; her mouth set in a thin line.

“James!” Mrs. Simmons quickly made James stand up and sit with her at her desk. Connor tried to hide his satisfaction at James’ humiliation. His dad raised an eyebrow, Connor lowered his head slightly so no one would see the growing satisfaction he felt.

“That’s a very good question Fiona, and absolutely true. People in the city, and in other surrounding communities can use fire daily for everyday things and don’t have laws in place to prevent people your age, or even people younger, from using fire too. When I was last in the city I saw a man hand his daughter a pack of matches to put in the cart at the grocery store. She was as young as Amy.”

Amy, who was 7 gasped along with the other children. “But that’s not safe!” She said, forgetting momentarily the hand up if you have a question rule. Mrs. Simmons let it go, pleased that the children were engaged.

“No, it’s not safe. This is why this Community was formed. After the Great Fires of 2017-“ He paused, bowing his head in unison with the rest of the room, taking a brief moment of silence.

“- Over 5000 people were displaced, thousands lost their homes, and 200 lost their lives. The County of Oak and Leaf Valley decided they needed to take drastic measures. They built the wall around the community, ensuring that all of the trees and vegetation inside the wall would always be watered, while the fire-proof walls and air-screens kept the fire out of our community.”

James had his hand raised, smirking and staring defiantly through Connor, to his dad.

“My dad says that this entire place is a cult and that only lunatics firebugs and weaklings are scared of fire.”

The entire class tensed. Connor felt sick, the burning seemed to be reaching from his throat. Connor grasped his locket, nearly screaming as he wrenched his hand away from it. It was hot, but he didn’t dare look at his hand or the locket. Connor looked down, hoping that everyone would think it was a reaction to what James said.

Dimly, Connor could hear Miss Simmons stammering an apology to Connor’s dad. Ryan and Fiona scooted closer to Connor sheltering him from the looks of the other children.

Connor’s dad stood up. Connor made eye contact with his father, and at that moment, he knew that somehow, his dad knew about the heart-shaped blister on his hand, and the burn slowly forming on his chest.

“Come here.” Momentarily distracted from his pain, Connor looked up at his dad and saw only the Fire Chief. Connor tried to stand up, but Fiona and Ryan grabbed him and held him down. They flinched, feeling his hot skin. Connor looked up at his dad in a panic.

“James. Come here.” The Fire Chief said again.

James stood up, on shaky legs, making his way to the Fire Chief. As he passed by Connor, Connor’s dad lightly tripped over Connor, causing Conner’s left hand to land on James’ shoe. James cried out, and a second later the entire class started crying as the smell of burnt rubber seared through the air.

The Fire Chief grabbed James by his foot, yanking off his shoe and pulling out a burned match. Connor couldn’t see anything after that, the pain searing through him. He felt Fiona and Ryan grab him, could feel their hands melting onto his skin, as they dragged him out of the classroom. All Connor could do was look at the burned outline of his locket on his palm.