SUMMER'S HEAT
Summer was the hottest season of all, especially in Arizona. The heat waves washed
over everything and everyone, leaving everything feeling slow, sticky. The children went to
school in an unusually subdued manor, while the adults lounged in the shade drinking
lemonade, it was too warm for spirits, and fanning themselves with whatever they found
lying around, old pieces of wood, homemade fans, the electrical fans had long ago stopped
working. Every time someone took in a breath, they felt as is their lungs were on fire, like
they would burst, so the small town in Arizona was very calm, almost like a ghost town. The
days were slow and long, the school bell rang and the heat almost seemed to just suck up the
sound as it was sucking the energy out of everything else. And instead of the children's
usual rambunctious play as they left school to head home, the children took their time
leaving the recesses of the school where it was shaded and somewhat cooler than the air
surrounding it. The school was quite large, holding 500 students, give or take a few, and
about 57 adults. The children all lived in the houses surrounding the school, some were
lucky and the school shaded their houses. The town's dogs and other animals all had
disappeared to more shaded places. The women reluctantly began to rise from their cool
seats and headed indoors to begin supper. The men remained where they were, reveling in
the cool as their wives all forced themselves with great will power to rise and prepare supper.
As the children arrived at their homes, they immediately sat or lay down in the shade,
thankful for the cool. The woman returned a while later with the family's meal and they sat
in the shade and discussed the horrendous heat and how the child's day had gone at school.
As they spoke, the sun lowered in the sky casting long shadows on the buildings and ground,
since it was now approaching night they all returned to their houses and began to prepare for
bed. Even though the night was still warm and muggy, the people welcomed the change
from the day's stifling hear.
The next day was the same, warm, sweaty, and long. The children went to school
and the adults sat in the shade all day. When the children returned home the women would
go prepare supper and the men and children would remain in the shade. And so it went, this
was the daily routine for the next month, each day the weather got hotter and hotter, until
even the shade no longer provided an escape from the heat. Soon the grass and flowers
began to wilt from lack of rain and the excessive heat from the sun. The tree's leaves turned
an ugly shade of green, not he healthy vibrant green they usually were. Even the houses
seemed to sag a little, like they would give in if this heat wave continued for much longer.
Being as hot as it was, it didn't really come as much of a surprise when fires began for no
reason at all. So the mayor had prohibited smoking or lighting fires, even if it was a waste of
breath and time, no one in their right mind would start a fire in this heat. And as the small
Arizona town began it's hottest day of summer, an air of worry, hung in the air. It seemed
like a foreboding of something that was about to happen, something bad. And as the
children were working away in school, there was only one man outside that day, all the other
adults were inside, in cellars or cool places like that. This man's name was Bert F. Goreb, he
was out walking because his wife had let the heat take control of her emotions and she had
yelled at him. So he had stripped off his shirt, slipped his shoes on and since he already had
shorts on he walked out the door and went to a walk. Even though the day was swelteringly
hot, Bert kept on walking, he walked up and down the dirt streets, he walked through shade
and sun, and he eventually walked past the school. As he walked past the school, he pulled
out his cigarettes and his matches to light them, and later, he would regret pausing long
enough to grab the pack of matches and cigarettes when his wife yelled at him. He pulled
out a cigarette and put the pack away, he toyed with the cigarette, turning it this way and that
as he walked. Then he pulled the matches out again and struck one. He lit his cigarette and
then, not bothering to put it out, flicked the still lit match away from him, into the very dry
grass that surrounded the school. Bert didn't even spare the spot, where the match landed as
he continued to walk, a glance, not noticing the air behind him get hotter than it already was
on account of his still lit match had started a fire. As he walked, every so often he would tap
his ashes onto the grass next to him, causing even more fires to spring up around the school.
The dirt streets that surrounded the school prevented the fire from spreading to the rest of
the town but that meant the fire had only one direction it could go in, toward the school.
Bert wasn't slow or anything but his mind was quite preoccupied and he was enjoying his
"cancer stick". The sun was only adding to the fire's strength and it steadily traveled across
the dry grass, consuming everything in it's path, trees, the playground, everything. Then
Bert, feeling again that sense of foreboding, turned around and his jaw dropped open, his
cigarette fell from his mouth onto even more dry grass. By the time Bert realized that his
cigarette was starting another fire and tried to put it out, but no go, the damage had already
been done, the remaining embers continued to start another flame and it too made it's way
towards the school. Bert could only stare helplessly as the flames came within five feet of
the school, he wanted to cry out and warn everyone of what was happening, but Bert was
afraid of the consequences of being the one to start the fire in the first place. So instead of
running to the fire department, Bert took off towards home, taking a different route home
that he had taken to get there. The route he planned to take took at least a half-hour, and
Bert figured that by the time he returned the fire department would have been alerted and
would have the blaze under control in no time. Bert ran for what felt like, to him at least,
hours and hours, but it was actually only a little over a half-hour. When he arrived home and
walked inside, his wife was nowhere to be found, not in their room, not in their son's room,
not in the cellar, he wondered where she could be. Bert then returned outside and to his
horror, he saw that about two quarters of a mile away the sky was filled with dark, black
smoke and he could just see the tops of the flames that were responsible for this turn about,
they were two stories high. Bert began to run back to the school seeing a few others doing
the same thing. When he arrived at the school it was worse than the thought, he could hear
the flames crackling even though he was still a third of a block away, and the heat, the heat
was already turning his skin slightly pink as he approached the school. The group of people
that had gathered in front of the school were all screaming a child's name that was caught in
the flaming inferno. The women were sobbing while the men held them; the absence of
their children would be greatly missed. Bert looked around, it appeared that all of the town
had gathered around the school to watch in horror as the buildings went up in flame and
smoke and Bert could faintly hear the screams of dying children and the teachers that were
trying to get them out. Bert clutched his head and began to scream, to howl with all the guilt
and pain he was feeling at the prospect of causing this great disaster and the knowledge that
the had most likely just killed his son. When Bert heard sirens he tore his eyes away from
the flames finally, the fire trucks that were already too late to save any of the people in the
school, finally arrived and began to combat the blaze.
Hours later when the firefighters were just beginning to get the blaze under control,
was when the rain started to fall. Bert remained in the same place he had occupied since
falling to his knees and screaming until his throat was red and raw and even then he
screamed until he couldn't scream any longer. As the first few drops of water splashed upon
Bert, he lifted his sorrow filled gaze to the sky, the rain came down lightly at first, and then
without warning it began to downpour, the rain coming down in torrents. Bert continued to
look at the sky and thought that the fates were disappointed in him, that they were crying
over his mess up, that they had given him a chance to do this whole town a great right, but
had only succeeded in destroying this town's hopes, dreams, and future. He thought that the
heavens were weeping for him, because now they would never receive him, would not
welcome him with open arms. Bert vowed to never smoke again and he would try to repent
for what he did, but deep down he knew he never could, for the treachery he had wrought
was too great and he would suffer through the twenty-six levels of Hell. Even as he thought
these things, the firemen began to move into the old school buildings, searching for
survivors, knowing that there most likely wouldn't be any; only twenty children and one
adult had gotten out before the flames had completely overtaken the school. Bert desired to
go see how they were fairing; yet dared not move from this spot until the firefighters were
certain that there were no more survivors in the ruins. And then Bert realized something,
his wife, he had not seen her in the crowd around the school, he looked around and saw, not
his wife, but her friends coming toward him, all of them were still weeping. They
approached Bert and stood before him, one of the taller ones knelt down next to him and
said she had to tell him what had happened to his wife. Even if Bert appeared not to be
listening he was paying attention, and his very soul froze at the sound of her voice and the
sadness that it also held. She reached out and took his hand.
"Bert, when the word spread to the town that the school was on fire, we thought it
was a joke and went over to your house to see your wife. Well she suggested that we should
go down to the school just in case it really was true, so we left and went to the school. As
we got closer we saw that the rumor really was true and that the school's doors had already
been blocked with the fire." Here the friend paused and her chest heaved and she sobbed
once before continuing. "We stood next to the flames for some time before your wife
suddenly….she suddenly just….jumped into the fire. With no warning at all, she just
jumped into it and started screaming almost immediately…We're so sorry Bert….She didn't
return."
Bert now was in more than shock, he was horrified that he had killed off a good
portion of the child population, including his own son, that he had killed almost all of the
teachers at the school, and that he had murdered his wife by starting the fire. He began to
sob again, he stared at the burnt and blackened ruins of the school and he watched as
firefighter after firefighter streamed out and each shook a head at the man watching the
door, indication that they had found no more survivors. Closing his eyes, Bert stood on
shaky legs and turned towards the escapees. He walked over to them and inquired as to
their well being, and all Bert was rewarded with was a blank face, they didn't seem to stare at
him, so much as through him. Bert didn't' press any further and walked away, he returned
to the spot he had previously occupied and laid down in the rain and mud and allowed sleep
to take him.
Hot. Burning. Too Hot. Flesh, Bubbling…I Can Smell It. Please Help Me. I'm
Trapped; I'm Being Burned Alive. AHHH!!!!
Bert shot up from his nightmare; he had been having the same nightmare for the
past month. After the school had been searched, searched, and researched, there were no
more survivors and nothing could be salvaged. The wrecking crew had arrived two weeks
after the accident. Accident, that is what the town was calling it, an accident. If only they
knew, they would be frozen in fear on the spot and then they most likely would have run
away. It wasn't fair; he hadn't meant to, it was an accident. Bert had tried convincing
himself that he wasn't to blame, that it wasn't his fault. He never should have walked past
the school, he should have gone outside and sat in the shade, not gone walking around
burning things down as he went. Bert wasn't guilty, he had told himself over and over again,
night after sleepless night lying awake in bed, thinking about what he had done. He was
ashamed and he was afraid to tell the truth, they believed it was an accident, yet he still felt
bad about all of it.
Three months later, all four hundred and twenty four bodies had been found, pulled
from the ruins, and buried. Bert had helped dig each and every grave, had helped put each
and every body in its casket and had helped lower each body into the ground. He was trying
to repent but it didn't seem to be doing anything for him. Bert was still miserable and he
didn't go out very much anymore and he had kept his vow to never smoke another cigarette
again. And along with smoking, he gave up drinking, and had removed all dirty magazines
he had possession of and threw them in the lake, he would have burned them but he had
developed a small fear of fire….Ok. it was a huge fear of fire. If he even thought he saw a
flame he'd jump three feet in the air, and bolt toward the nearest body of water he saw. Be it
lake, pond, barrel of rainwater, or someone's bathtub (while they were taking a bath). It was
funny, only months ago he had been playing with it, he had been playing with fire, now the
thought that he had ever been so close to fire made him desire to be near water. Bert walked
around day after day in a stupor of sorts, most thought the loss of his wife and his kid in the
same day had caused him serious mental harm. After a while Bert began to think, if these
thoughts wouldn't leave him alone while he was safe and sound and free to do as he wished,
maybe, just maybe, he would find peace of mind in prison. And over the next month, this
thought grew and grew until he could no longer ignore it. Bert finally had had enough; he
was going to turn himself in.
Bert walked down the road to the police station with a white envelope in his hand.
He slipped the envelope through the mail slot and then walked away to wait at he place he
mentioned in his note. The small smile that played on the lips and he walked though the
town made a few people stop and watch him with worry; you don't see Bert smile anymore,
ever. Bert at last came upon the place and sat down and closed his eyes, he would wait,
forever if need be, but he didn't think he'd have to wait that long. No, he could hear them
coming now, warily but steadily. They surrounded him and they lifted him and told him to
put his hands behind his back and walk. He did as he was told; he walked wherever it was
they wished him to go.
They arrived at a tree….Ah, he understood now, he wasn't going to jail, they were
going to hand him. And that thought only made his smile widen, he approached the tree
and climbed the steps and stood n the platform's center, just below the tree limb that held
the rope noose. He glanced down and saw that the secret door, when open would send him
to his salvation, his death. Bert reached up and grasped the noose with both hands and
tightened it around his neck, all the while having that small smile on his face. He looked out
over the town he had hurt, and he nodded to the man standing next to the lever. The man
saluted him and pulled it, Bert felt the door fall away from him. For a moment he hovered
in mid air, then gravity came upon him and heaved him down toward the ground. Bert
never stopped smiling, even when he made unruly sounds, that he hadn't meant to make.
Bert's eyes slid shut peacefully as the calmness of the soothing black consumed him,
received him.
Hot. This Isn't Right. This Isn't Heaven. Bert thought as he felt around him, not
daring to open his eyes. At last he couldn't stand it, Bert forced his eyes open and he
cringed away in fear, he was surrounded by fire on all sides. Bert's prediction had been quite
accurate.
He had been sent to Hell