Fire is Everything

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Fire is Everything

By Plot Roach

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have post apocalyptic moments. The camping section of Wal-Mart, Target or K-Mart will do in a pinch, but I really love the big sporting goods stores. To be surrounded by so many tools for survival and a chance to live without the caustic hum of a poisoned society in my veins.

Let me explain how I got this way…

My family trained me to be paranoid and neurotic. Not on purpose, mind you, but because the moment that I stopped to relax, someone would turn upon me and I would have to flee into the night.

As a child, my family moved from place to place almost as often as the changing of the seasons. When you owe the landlord, you learn to run away at the first signs of an eviction letter -or worse, are forced to run when he and a couple of “friends” show up in the night armed with weapons to take what they can of value to pay for what you owe.

I learned that the most important things that I did not wish to lose should be packed at all times and set next to my bed at night, just in case. I also learned to sleep fully clothed and with my shoes on. You never forget a man swinging a baseball bat at you when you are seven. And your nightmares of the boogeyman and vampires are replaced by visions of armed joggers chasing you for money. In high school I tried out for the track team and did quite well.

I never let my guard down. The moment that I did, someone turned against me or let me down. I learned from family that the words “I love you” were not so much a statement of affection as a chain to keep me bound to them. My mother would say these words to try and calm the tears and soothe my pain after she “punished” me for some imagined offense. At the age of eleven she broke my nose and my right arm because I had the nerve to have my first menstrual cycle. Every time I tried to leave the family that abused me I was met with the plaintive cries of “Don’t go, we love you. If you leave, who will take care of us?” And like an idiot I stayed, until my first boyfriend spirited me away with claims of undying love and a happily ever after. Less than a month into our “honeymoon”, I found him having an affair with someone in his office. When I confronted him on it, he threw me out of the house we shared. And I learned that as soon as I let someone close to me, they often had a knife aimed at my heart.

I found my feet, even with a broken heart. Though I had often made bad decisions in roommates. Several times I followed my heart instead of my head, and my half of the rent disappeared with my roommate. While once again I was forced to face the irate landlord.

Friends were no better, often using me for their own means while offering little in return. As soon as I asked for the slightest bit of help, they disappeared like a fart in the wind. Never to return my phone calls or emails until they needed help of their own. Those at work, be it bosses or coworkers, often took my ideas for their own, took credit for my hard work, or just plain lied to make me look bad.

I have learned a good number of skills over the years to make me self sufficient. I had to evolve if I was survive without help from others. Landlords drag their feet when fixing problems in an apartment. And if I could repair it myself without alerting anyone, it meant that I wouldn’t have to let them into where I lived. And that I wouldn’t have to depend on them. I hate being at the mercy of others. Especially when you know what they are capable of.

When my job gets bad, I switch to another one. I mail my landlord the rent check so that we don’t have to see one another. And as for friends… I don’t play well with others who refuse to play well with me. So I have “acquaintances”, but no one special. Same could be said for romance. I have a cat and a vibrator (not to be used together, mind you). The cat is independent when I need him to be, and shows affection when I feed him treats. I know where our relationship stands. And I’m okay with that. As for the vibrator, I keep a drawer well stocked with batteries. When it breaks, I buy a new one. There’s no love lost on a plastic coated engine. It’s hard to love when you keep your heart in an armored box.

So when things get bad, like a neighbor takes a sudden interest in me and wants to be “best friends”, or my job has become particularly stressful, I head down to the local sporting goods store and imagine emptying my savings account to invest in a future in the wild, away from people and all of the problems that they constantly dump upon me.

I look at the camp stoves, sleeping bags, hunting knives and assorted equipment and imagine a world of silence.

Just yesterday I bumped into a man while eyeing a new tent that had just come onto the market. It was rated for cold weather, yet lightweight enough to pack into a remote location on my back.

“So what do you think?” he asked me.

“About?”

“The new Colman lantern.”

I looked at the package and shrugged. “I’ve had a couple of Coleman lanterns in the past. The light bulbs break and the batteries run out of juice way too fast for me. But I hear good things about LED, though I have yet to try them myself.”

He nodded and set the package back down. “How often do you go camping then?” he asked.

“Whenever the world around me gets too…” I couldn’t find the right word without sounding like a damned nut job.

“Stressful? Frustrating? Down and out insane?”

“You too?” I asked.

“I have to deal with people’s stupidity so often that I really have doubts as to the future of the human race. I’m an IT, and I get the stupidest calls on a daily basis by people who think that I can just reach through the phone and solve their problems with a magic wand. So I go away every chance I get. I have to if I don’t want to got to jail for cleaning out the gene pool.”

I handed him a plastic encased machete and took a handsaw off the next rack. “Mind if I help you?” I asked, smiling.

“We could do some damage together, you and I.”

“But I would much prefer the open air to a closed in jail cell. So maybe we better put that plan on hold.”

“Let me ask you something. Seriously…”

“Yes?”

“In your opinion, what is the best piece of equipment here?”

I looked over the shelves and a awkward silence descended upon us. Finally I tossed him a box of matches.

“Matches?”

“Well, you could use flint and steel kit. But my point was Fire.”

“Why fire?”

“Fire is everything. One of the basic elements that allowed us to evolve into a civilization in the first place. The tool Prometheus stole to give to mankind. It illuminates the dark and provides us with inspiration. It can cook our meals and can devour our homes. It can be used to create tools or can be used as a tool of destruction. A symbol of hate, passion, love, comfort and safety. If I could only carry one thing with me into the wilderness, it would be that little box of matches -provided that I could put them in a Ziploc bag to keep them from getting wet.”

He grinned from ear to ear and I felt like an idiot. I blushed and excused myself, heading to the women’s bathroom. Once I composed myself I headed for the checkout, my meager bundle of goods beneath one arm. I paid for my things and walked out into the parking lot, still smiling from my encounter with near flirtation. That’s when I heard footsteps behind me and I whirled around to face my pursuer. It was the man from the camping section.

“I think you forgot these.” he said and tossed me a box of matches. He had scrawled his number along the side of the box.

We won’t be meeting for coffee or a movie. But have decided to go on a camping trip together. Separate tents of course. We want to see how well we can know each other and ourselves outside of what is called civilization. At work, when things get too tense, I make a mental note of which items I still need to pack before the trip, smiling as I keep the box of matches in my pocket and never letting it leave my side.