Fire 37

This is my Mission Impossible: a story limited to 750 words, tackling two issues with which I have a strong personal connection.

An upfront warning -- this is a very dark story indeed so if that's not your thing, please move on. There is no BTB ending either. Unless you've been living in a cocoon, you probably know that much of eastern Australia is devastated by unprecedented bushfires. While city folk have been largely protected, rural communities have paid a terrible price, particularly farmers who have seen their homes, their machinery, their livestock and their livelihood wiped out in minutes.

This was the premise underlying the story, which is pure fiction and everyone is of course, over the age of eighteen.

*

FIRE!

The agitated driver jumped from his SUV to face the police officer manning a road barricade.

"You've got to let me in," he screamed at the policeman. "My wife is on the farm alone."

"I'm sorry sir, it is far too dangerous. The flames are on the ridge already and in this wind, fire will sweep through the flats in minutes."

He paced back and forth, watching helplessly as smoke obscured the sun. Flames danced angrily down the hillside, destroying everything in their path.

John left home early to attend a cattle auction some 200 kilometres away. Recent drought conditions forced him to reduce his herd while he desperately hoped for good prices to allow him to pay down loans accumulating at the bank.

At lunch in a little café, he idly watched the news broadcast on television. He jumped suddenly when the talking head brought up a map of the latest area to be hit by bushfires. Live footage from a news helicopter passed over the top of his property, panning to the fire front which raged through heavily timbered hills to the west. His heart beat wildly as he hurriedly paid his bill and rushed to his car, tearing through the suburbs to the highway and the two-hour trip to the farm.

The morning had been a disaster. Hit by a glut of livestock due to drought, a huge over-supply forced prices to less than half of their levels a year earlier. And now the fire.

** ** **

Sharon cleared away the breakfast dishes, humming a little tune as she watched John drive away. Still in her nightgown, she picked up the phone and quickly dialed.

"He's just gone," she whispered conspiratorially. "How soon can you get here? We've got all day."

Richie's car pulled up as she emerged from the shower. Wrapping herself in a bath towel, she skipped to her lover as he entered the house. They fell together, kissed passionately and headed for the bedroom where Sharon proceeded to tear Richie's clothes off.

"I need you in me now," she hissed urgently. "I've waited sooo long."

Spreading her legs wide, she grasped his raging erection, rising to meet him as he buried his cock to the root in one thrust. Their initial copulation was brutal but with their hunger sated, they fucked for more than three hours, the intensity rising and falling until completely exhausted, the pair fell asleep in each other's arms.

The roar of fire awoke them, finding the front of the farmhouse ablaze. Grasping Sharon's hand, Richie dragged her through the back door, through the vegetable garden and into the muddy waters of the dam 100 metres away. The pair, still naked, watched in awe as flames consumed the house and adjacent sheds within minutes. Huge trees, denuded of foliage, still smoldered but the fire front moved on. The flames left nothing.

Through the smoky haze, a fire truck appeared. Calling for survivors, the driver was amazed when a naked couple emerged from the dam.

"Where are your clothes?" he stammered. His disdain to their unconvincing reply was obvious but Sharon gratefully accepted a fire jacket to cover herself while Richie was given a pair of fireman's trousers from the truck. The fireman offered to drive them to safety and passed John at the road barrier, each unaware of the other's presence.

At the emergency shelter, the registrar moved quickly to find the couple some clothes. It was clear that their circumstances were viewed skeptically. When John drove into the shelter a short time later, he had already learned that his wife and neighbor, both stark naked, survived the fire by diving into the dam. The confrontation that followed was brief.

Sharon cringed when her husband approached, unable to meet his steely gaze.

"I've known about you and Richie for a while," he began. "He's welcome to you. There's not much left for me anyway."

Slowly turning, John drove back to the farm where he had lived since childhood.

A mulberry tree, a skeleton now, once carried his tree house. The farmhouse chimney built by his father stood alone amid twisted metal roofing with molten remains of the farm tractor nearby. Desolation.

Suddenly John's mind exploded. Unpayable bank loans, lost stock feed, dying stock, barren soil, lost home and finally a lost wife. Reaching into the SUV he grasped his rifle and walked into the smoldering skeletons of smoky trees. There were no kangaroos, koalas or kookaburras to hear the single rifle shot.

If you have come this far, thank you for reading. Don't forget to vote, please.