coughs of smoke emitted from the gap left open to the night air. An arc of water rained onto the burning structure, and several other firemen began taping off a perimeter around the building in order to keep the crowds at bay.
Willy, James, Bennett, and Carter watched in silence as the flames were finally drenched into feeble sparks. Thick smoke spread outward like a gray fog, covering the parking lot in a gossamer layer of ash. James could feel it coating his hair and skin like a dusting of gritty sand sticking to damp flesh. Willy opened his palm in order to catch some of the minute particles that once represented his entrepreneurial dreams. From where they stood in the parking lot, on a slight rise above the bustling firemen, the men noticed the arrival of two brown patrol cars. The strip of red and blue roof lights blazed, but the sirens had not been activated. Three men hopped out of their vehicles and began to confer with the exhausted firemen. James recognized Sheriff Huckabee and deputies Keith Donovan and Glenn Truett.
Two cars pulled up next to Bennett’s truck. James recognized Gillian’s environmentally friendly hybrid as well as Lucy’s dirty Jeep. Gillian, Lindy, and Lucy approached the dumbstruck group of men. James was delighted to see that Lindy appeared to be carrying a six-pack of soda. He felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of chalk and couldn’t wait to wash away the layer of grime that coated his tongue.
“We saw y’all up here from the other end of the lot. Thought you might be a bit parched by now so we ran out and got you some cherry cola,” Lindy said softly, handing each of the men a cold can. Bennett thanked her and awkwardly introduced the three ladies to Carter.
“Thank you kindly,” Willy raised his can to his lips and took a deep swig. He seemed to shake off the trance he had fallen under while watching the fire. “Nothin’ like a little cherry cola to bring things to light again. I reckon it’s not all as bad as it looks. I’ve got cherry cola, some new friends, and I’ve got a good insurance policy.”
“I’m glad you have your sense of humor intact.” Gillian put her hand on Willy’s forearm and smiled.
James stared at the charred structure that had promised to be a bustling ice cream parlor. The building looked like a whale beached on a square of ebony sand, long decomposed with a rib cage of black beams jutting up into the night air. Suddenly, he remembered what Brady had said about someone being trapped inside. As unobtrusively as possible, he pulled Lucy aside and shared what he had overheard the fireman report to Chief Lawrence.
“Didn’t you tell me that old Pete Vandercamp was going to be working the weekend shifts?” Lucy asked, gripping James by the hand.
James looked down as her soft fingers locked onto his. He covered her hand with his free one and tried to reassure her. “Yes, but it was just a kid on his bike reporting what he thought he saw. Maybe he was wrong. After all, it would have been getting dark by then. Could have just been a shadow. It could be nothing—a trick of the light.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Lucy turned and pointed at the patrol cars. “After all, the Sheriff’s here,” she said worriedly as she gazed at the smoldering building. “Oh, James. I know Pete wasn’t the best of men. He drank and swore at us when we were kids and had always made lewd comments to all the pretty women in town, but no one deserves a horrible death like that. I truly hope they don’t find anyone inside.”
James put his arm around Lucy’s shoulder but could think of nothing to say. He believed that the boy had probably seen someone and that someone would most likely turn out to be Pete Vandercamp. From where he and Lucy stood, slightly above the perimeter of tape, they watched the Sheriff pull on a pair of firemen boots and follow an agitated Chief Lawrence into the remains of the Polar Pagoda.
“I’m going down there,” Lucy
Willy, James, Bennett, and Carter watched in silence as the flames were finally drenched into feeble sparks. Thick smoke spread outward like a gray fog, covering the parking lot in a gossamer layer of ash. James could feel it coating his hair and skin like a dusting of gritty sand sticking to damp flesh. Willy opened his palm in order to catch some of the minute particles that once represented his entrepreneurial dreams. From where they stood in the parking lot, on a slight rise above the bustling firemen, the men noticed the arrival of two brown patrol cars. The strip of red and blue roof lights blazed, but the sirens had not been activated. Three men hopped out of their vehicles and began to confer with the exhausted firemen. James recognized Sheriff Huckabee and deputies Keith Donovan and Glenn Truett.
Two cars pulled up next to Bennett’s truck. James recognized Gillian’s environmentally friendly hybrid as well as Lucy’s dirty Jeep. Gillian, Lindy, and Lucy approached the dumbstruck group of men. James was delighted to see that Lindy appeared to be carrying a six-pack of soda. He felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of chalk and couldn’t wait to wash away the layer of grime that coated his tongue.
“We saw y’all up here from the other end of the lot. Thought you might be a bit parched by now so we ran out and got you some cherry cola,” Lindy said softly, handing each of the men a cold can. Bennett thanked her and awkwardly introduced the three ladies to Carter.
“Thank you kindly,” Willy raised his can to his lips and took a deep swig. He seemed to shake off the trance he had fallen under while watching the fire. “Nothin’ like a little cherry cola to bring things to light again. I reckon it’s not all as bad as it looks. I’ve got cherry cola, some new friends, and I’ve got a good insurance policy.”
“I’m glad you have your sense of humor intact.” Gillian put her hand on Willy’s forearm and smiled.
James stared at the charred structure that had promised to be a bustling ice cream parlor. The building looked like a whale beached on a square of ebony sand, long decomposed with a rib cage of black beams jutting up into the night air. Suddenly, he remembered what Brady had said about someone being trapped inside. As unobtrusively as possible, he pulled Lucy aside and shared what he had overheard the fireman report to Chief Lawrence.
“Didn’t you tell me that old Pete Vandercamp was going to be working the weekend shifts?” Lucy asked, gripping James by the hand.
James looked down as her soft fingers locked onto his. He covered her hand with his free one and tried to reassure her. “Yes, but it was just a kid on his bike reporting what he thought he saw. Maybe he was wrong. After all, it would have been getting dark by then. Could have just been a shadow. It could be nothing—a trick of the light.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Lucy turned and pointed at the patrol cars. “After all, the Sheriff’s here,” she said worriedly as she gazed at the smoldering building. “Oh, James. I know Pete wasn’t the best of men. He drank and swore at us when we were kids and had always made lewd comments to all the pretty women in town, but no one deserves a horrible death like that. I truly hope they don’t find anyone inside.”
James put his arm around Lucy’s shoulder but could think of nothing to say. He believed that the boy had probably seen someone and that someone would most likely turn out to be Pete Vandercamp. From where he and Lucy stood, slightly above the perimeter of tape, they watched the Sheriff pull on a pair of firemen boots and follow an agitated Chief Lawrence into the remains of the Polar Pagoda.
“I’m going down there,” Lucy
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