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Fire Sticks

  Author’s Note - This story is based on 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.

  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 that morning, just after dawn and come home as soon as the temperature reached 37 C. At about 9 am. The water’s edge was already lined with people‒many of them elderly‒walking back and forth between the Grange and Henley jetties, with their feet in the water. Others were swimming or merely sitting in the sea to cool down. Occasionally, someone 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 and 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. 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 Country Fire Service 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 housemate’s back, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Although Ken 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 knew he would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

  Ken 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.

  Fire

  Jerry was looking at a scene from Hell. Cliché though it was, Hell was simply the only word to describe what was in front of him. Bright flames engulfed the trees, turned the grass to ash and sent sparks into the sky in greedy search for more prey. Smoke filled the air and crept inside his mask to form black runnels of sweat down his cheeks. But the worst thing was the noise. A roar, like waves pounding at the base of a cliff, battered his ears as the main fire front clawed and leapt its way towards them.

  Jerry rolled his aching shoulders inside the yellow suit and shifted the hose a little to the right, aiming it at the base of the fire. Sara was at his back, helping carry the heavy weight, keeping a watchful eye out to make sure the fire didn’t get behind them. They had been working on this front for what seemed like hours but the fire appeared as fierce as ever. Like every person on the team, Jerry was praying for the promised cool change to come early. Preferably a couple of days early.

  A poisonous brown snake slithered over his boot, too intent on escape to pose a threat. Jerry couldn’t bear to think of all the animals that would die today. Kookaburras and kangaroos had the best chance, but koalas couldn’t move fast enough. Sara handed him a bottle of water. “I’d kill for a cold beer right now,” said Sara, “but this is the best I’ve got.”

  “Thanks!” Jerry summoned up a grin he didn’t know he had in him. He gulped down a couple of mouthfuls before handing it back. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders again, and took a firmer grip on the hose. Only another couple of hours until they could have a break.

  Exhausted, they leant against the side of the truck taking their half-hour break, gulping down slightly grubby sandwiches and guzzling water. Sara had taken off her helmet and poured a bottle of water over her head, wishing futilely that she could risk taking off her protective suit for a minute. She glistened wetly for all of two minutes before the water evaporated.

  Lightning flashed overhead, but the roll of thunder was drowned out by the roar of the fire. A bolt of lightning hit the ground about ten metres in front of the truck, making both of them jump.

  “Shit!”

  “That was a bit too close for comfort!” agreed Jerry.

  “What’s that? On the ground where the lightning hit?” asked Sara.

  “What? Oh, that. Looks like a metal bar. Do you think the lightning hit it?”

  “Don’t touch it, idiot!”

  “I wasn’t going to, at least, not until I’ve poured some water on it first,” replied Jerry, suiting the action to the words. There was a hiss of steam about a metre high. When it cleared, Jerry could see a long silver bar shining brightly in the ash.

  “What on earth?” he exclaimed as he bent to pick up the object. “It’s like those weapons the police have, what do they call them? Expandable batons.” He passed it across to Sara to have a look. She hefted it in one hand then swirled it around expertly.

  “Where do you think it came from?”

  “The sky?” he joked. “I’ve heard that lightning can
melt metal, but it wouldn’t produce anything like this. It must have been here before, we just didn’t see it.”

  “Well, if it’s expandable, there must be a trick to it. I can’t budge it,” Sara examined the object for a moment then passed the baton back to Jerry.

  He stroked his hand lightly up the length of it. He couldn’t feel a button or an indentation but evidently he hit something because suddenly the baton extended into a metre long shining rod.

  “Wow!” said Sara.

  Jerry gave a surprised laugh. “It looks like something from Star Wars.”

  He took up a pose and brandished the baton at the fire burning on the other side of the gully. “Die, in the name of your Jedi master...” his voice trailed away as the fire went out. All at once, as if the oxygen had been sucked out of it.

  Sara looked up, as if expecting to see a water bomber above them, but there was nothing in the sky except smoke. They exchanged looks of sheer disbelief.

  “How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. Has the wind changed?”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  They both looked at the silver baton in Jerry’s hand.

  “Try it again,” said Sara.

  With a nervous laugh, Jerry looked around for another glimpse of the fire. The truck was supposed to be safely behind the fireline so there was nothing immediately visible apart from smoke.

  “I’m sure it was just coincidence, but I’ll take it along with us on our next stint,” said Jerry. “Just in case.”

  Furnace

  Ken needed a distraction and some fresh, if hot, air. Watching the news was just making him anxious and depressed. At least Jerry had managed to send him a quick text during his break to say he was safe.

  He wandered outside to gaze worriedly at the drooping garden. It was far too hot to water anything yet. The sun was fierce on his bare back, he could almost feel his skin starting to peel as he stood there. He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the intensity.

  The noisy crashing from the bottle factory over the road intruded on the heat-enforced quiet. He knew he shouldn’t complain, he enjoyed a glass of wine as much as the next person, but he wished it didn’t have to be so near. Or so noisy. The owners had promised to replace the sheet iron fence with a five metre high protective wall but so far nothing had eventuated.

  He opened his eyes and saw a large dead rat near the vegetable garden, a present from his cat Tiger. Ken pretended he hadn’t seen it, he couldn’t face the thought of picking it up and carrying it around to the bin at the front of the house. With a bit of luck, Jerry would be home later to do the unpleasant job for him. He felt a twinge of guilt, after all Jerry had been fighting fires all day, but there was something about rats... he just hated them.

  Enough of the outdoors. He had his hand on the back door when he remembered the clothes hoist. He’d just have a quick look while he was out there, see if there had been any damage. Looking up to check if any of the wires had melted, he stubbed his toes painfully on a metal rod lying on the lawn.

  “Shit! Who left that there?” he demanded angrily. He picked it up and looked at it. Was it a piece from their portable gazebo? He didn’t think so‒too big and heavy. He was just about to put it in the shed when suddenly it extended into a metre long silver rod. Ken yelped in surprise and dropped it.

  Then he laughed at himself. Jerry must have bought it as a joke. He picked the rod up again, liking how smooth it felt in his hand. He pointed it at the cat who was passed out on the cool slate under the pot plant holder. “No more rats, you promise? Alright look, I've tried to be reasonable. You give me your word in ten seconds or I shoot you in the head.”

  Tiger ignored him, the tip of her tail giving a contemptuous twitch.

  Ken wondered if the rod glowed in the dark, or played a tune or something when you shook it. He played around with it for a few more moments but nothing happened except, thank heavens, the glass factory appeared to have finished for the day. No more noise. They must have had an early closure because of the heat. He placed the rod carefully on the back verandah and went inside to watch some more TV.

  Fire Sticks

  The silver space ship hovered invisibly over the sweltering city of Adelaide. Its two occupants took one last look at planet Earth before the ship disappeared up beyond the stratosphere.

  They had done the best they could.

  A full cargo hold of rods had been dispersed around the globe; Adelaide, the hottest city on the planet that day, being the last stop. The best thing was that, once activated, the field emitted by the rods would radiate out to eliminate all the bushfires within a matter of hours. The shortest alien smiled to itself at the thought of how grateful the humans would be.

  Though of course, bushfires weren’t the only heat sources the energy-eaters would consume.

  Like fire itself, the energy-eaters had more than one use.