The Thrill of the Fire

It had been a hot, dry summer, the perfect conditions for a fire.
Arid ground, dry brush, and parched undergrowth fed the flames. Ahead
of the men, the inferno was intense. Enormous trees instantly
combusted, flinging brilliant embers high into the night sky.
The men were a team, as theyd always been, and some serious
competition for the monster. Grunting in the sultry August heat, they
worked in unison, defending their town, protecting their own. All of
them equal. Together, they carried the weight of the hose, and the
burden of the blaze, their bodies silhouetted in the glory of the flames.
Put your back into it, someone yelled.
This ones not gonna beat us, his buddy shouted back.
The smoky air would choke lesser mortals, untrained amateurs; but
these were qualified professionals; the elite in their field. Covered in
falling debris, hot ash, and cinders, they remained focused on what
theyd been trained to do. No fear. No pain. No regrets. The same
old energy passed between them like electrical current. Exhilaration.
Spirit. Courage.
Way below the hellhole, an innocent town lay sleeping, blissfully
unaware of the peril. A town filled with the people they loved. The
firestorm raged, intensified, unleashed the full extent of its wrath.
Undaunted, the men fought back, waged their own war on the
uncontrollable beast; David against Goliath, yet, this giant would not be
suppressed.
A shout. Suddenly, the men realized they were surrounded by a
ring of fire; trees lit like torches; a twister of flame funneling skyward.
The earth beneath their feet glowed red. They were trapped, with no way
out. The heat was incredible as they surrendered.
Well be back next year.
On this particular August night, the tenth anniversary of the fire
that killed them, no one in the sleeping town below would doubt it.