Billy’s family has a pickup with a camper on the back and we got to ride inside the camper with Blacky and Fluffy. Mr. Farmer kept the window in the rear of the cab open and he had us pass him a bottle of pop or cookies now and then from the supplies we had back there with us.
We’d gone over a hundred miles that way by the time we finally got back deep into the woods at the end of a two track, and Mr. Farmer said, “We’re there, boys!” It was sunny but it had rained the night before and the ground and the wood around us was damp.
Mr. Farmer sent us out to gather firewood anyway, and said that once we got a little fire going, we could dry enough wood to get a real blaze burning later.
Mr. Farmer was still gathering wood when Billy and I came back with our first loads.
“Boy, this stuff really is wet,” Billy said. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get a fire going.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we had one going before your Dad gets back?” I said. “Let’s give it a try.” I wanted Mr. Farmer to like me. I thought getting the fire going would impress him.
We tried for a few minutes, laying the sticks out, and lighting the newspaper wadded up under the sticks. But once the paper was done burning the wood would just go out.
“I have my bottle of gas,” I finally said. I hadn’t told Billy I’d packed it.
“I don’t think my Dad would like us to use it,” Billy said.
But then he looked around and Mr. Farmer wasn’t anywhere around, so he said, “OK. Give it a try.”
I got the bottle from my pack and went back to the fire where a little flame was still flickering under a couple of the sticks. Blacky and Fluffy returned from running around in the woods just in time to watch me open the bottle and pour some on the fire.
I poured too much. FWOOSH!, up went a ball of flame.
Blacky got scared and ran away barking. Fluffy just stared at the ball of fire and then at the smoke and the flames of a pretty good looking fire. He was fascinated by it. Billy fed in more wood and we had a nice blaze going by the time Mr. Farmer came back.
“What was Blacky barking about?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Billy said.
“Me neither,” I said.
“Nice fire you boys got going there,” Mr. Farmer said. “I’m surprised you got one going that well so fast with that wet wood.” I knew he could smell the gasoline because I still could. I wondered if he’d be mad and take us home. But he didn’t say any more about it.
That night we roasted hot dogs and talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Even Mr. Farmer.
“I want to be a fireman,” Billy said. “I know a lot of kids say that, but I really want to be one. I want to learn what hose to use and about how fires start in houses and all that stuff.”
I looked up at the sky and the stars were so bright and beautiful that night. It’s never like that in the city. Not even on the edge of the city where I live. “I want to be an astronaut,” I said. I’d never told anyone else that. Not Mom, and certainly not Dad. But the thought of joining the astronauts in the space station up there, and maybe someday going to Mars and seeing if there really were alien ruins up there—Wow, that would be better even than walking to wherever it is the train tracks end.
“I’m with you, Joey,” Mr. Farmer said. “I’m only thirty-two. I know that sounds old to you boys, but I’ll still be alive I hope when ordinary people will be able to live on the Moon and work there.”
That night in my sleeping bag I pulled it way over my head. I didn’t want Billy to see I was sorta crying. I wanted a Dad like his so bad.
We camped for two days. When I got home, I knew something was wrong.
Dad would be coming for his usual visit the next day, I knew that. But Mom was used to that so I didn’t think that could be it. But she was looking at Fluffy kind of weird. And I don’t know how I knew this, but Fluffy noticed it, too.
That same night Mom started asking me questions about Fluffy. “Joey, have you ever seen Fluffy do anything really strange?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I saw him eat a grasshopper once.”
“Not like that,” Mom said. “All cats do that. I mean, have you ever seen him do anything that made you think he was really smart?”
“He learned how to climb up to my camp all by himself,” I answered. “I think he’s a smart cat.” By this time I figured she must have seen that sign. I tried to answer truthfully without telling Mom anything. I didn’t want her to call that man to come take Fluffy away.
I knew Fluffy was supposed to be dangerous, but I didn’t care. Lots of people are dangerous, too. Why didn’t anyone come to take my Dad away? Anyway, I know who my friends are.
The next day was Dad’s last visit. It was also Fluffy’s last day with us.
Dad pulled up like usual that morning. This time Mom told me to wait and say hello to him first before he was too drunk, and then take Fluffy and go for a walk.
“Flello, boy,” Dad said as he got out of the pickup. “Ya goin’ to be nice to yer old man for a change?” Dad was real drunk already. I should have known by how he was weaving when he drove in the driveway and just run away. “Well? What you doing just standin’ there? Come over here, boy!” He’d stopped in the middle of the driveway.
“OK, sir,” I said. Dad looked mad about something. I didn’t know what. With him it didn’t matter. When he was living with us, I always got it no matter what it was that set him off.
I knew I was going to get it now.
Fluffy came out of the garage through the people door which was open just wide enough for a cat.
“C’mere, dammit!” Dad yelled at me.
I didn’t know where Mom was. She should have been out there making Dad stop. She knew what was going to happen. I took a step away from him. I didn’t know what to do.
I was so scared.
Then Fluffy ran at Dad and jumped on his leg. He sank his claws in deep and he started biting. Dad was jumping up and down and swearing and trying to swat Fluffy off.
It got all confused after that.
Fluffy let go and landed on his feet. He hissed at Dad who was still spinning around, like he wanted Dad to see where he was. Dad spotted him, let out a yell, and started chasing Fluffy.
Fluffy ran back into the garage the way he’d come, with Dad close behind. Dad flung the door open and jumped inside. I saw something splash on him there in the doorway. He said, “What the (he used the F word)!” I saw the stove burner light up and a line of fire coming toward Dad.
Then Dad went FWOOSH.
Dad looked just like one of those balls of flame people turn into on TV shows when they burn up. Somehow the door closed and I couldn’t see him anymore, and Fluffy came tearing out of the garage through his cat hole.
About then I noticed that there were sirens going, and a police ear pulled up in the driveway, and right behind it was another regular car and some guy got out and came running toward me.
Mom got to me first and was holding me tight. “Oh, Joey! Joey! I saw what Dad was like. I stayed in to ( all the police. I was so afraid they wouldn’t get here in time!”
Smoke was really pouring out of the garage by now and the two policemen ran right past us and tried to get in the garage, but the door was locked. They tried the stall door but it was stuck. Then Mom remembered to tell them what the push button code was for the opener, but that didn’t work either. So they broke down the people door finally, but more smoke poured out and I guess they couldn’t see anything in there.
I could hear the sirens of lire trucks on the way.
That other guy who’d pulled in with the police hadn’t even stopped to talk with me and Mom, just ran past us when the police did and kept going. He came back the same time the fire-men got there, and asked Billy if he was me (Billy had come over when he saw the smoke). Billy set him straight and kept watching the firemen get their hoses going.