Short Stories from the Fire Hunter Universe
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That year, the flowers bloomed as if they had gone mad. They grew along the roadsides, at the edges of the rice fields, and by riverbanks and the waters of the marshlands. It seemed like all the flowers knew that there was something very wrong with the world. They responded to this wrong by blossoming in a frenzy of color.
Cows walked in a huddle through the rain, heading into the marsh where lotus flowers bloomed in profusion. There was one cow standing especially close to the child. A tuft of white hair grew between its horns. The flowers were so tall and thick that the cow and the child were almost hidden from sight.
The child was accompanying their older sister to the general store. They glanced impassively at the cows as they traveled. The child and their sister were going to buy tobacco for their grandfather. Their mother usually did this, but she was heavily pregnant and couldn’t walk far. They had been given a little spending money and were allowed to buy their favorite colored candy. For nearly an hour, they would be free from tending livestock and performing household chores.
The children were happy to go to the general store even though it was raining. From the eaves of the general store at the edge of the village, they could see the town below. It was a small town surrounded by forests and terraced rice fields, but the roads were paved and shops lined the streets. It was much livelier than the little village halfway up the mountain.
The school in town had been closed as soon as the new year began. They hadn’t seen their friends who lived in the town for a long time. There were rumors that some children had disappeared and were still missing. The adults said that the distant war was creeping closer, but it was impossible to know how much of that was true.
There were no soldiers here yet. There had been no sightings or reports of attacks anywhere.
But the storefront of the general store was bare. The shopkeeper with glasses complained, saying, “Deliveries have stopped coming.”
“Grandpa’s tobacco might stop coming in soon, too,” the child’s older sister said with a little frown. But there was tobacco today. They bought the tobacco and some candy.
Both the child and their older sister sensed the heavy, gloomy atmosphere that lingered around their parents and other adults they knew. They had no idea what to do about it. All they could do was be careful not to breathe in too much of that ominous air themselves… and take care of the cows. They ate a piece of colored candy from a paper bag, sharing what they’d bought. They tried not to think about unpleasant things.
“Can you hear that?” the child’s sister asked.
The child heard nothing but rain. They clasped the bag of candy tightly in their hand and moved beside their sister. They looked up at the sky, which was pouring rain.
The next moment, the child lost their grip and the bag fell, scattering brightly colored candies across the wet ground.
Something was flying towards them from above the mountains. The child’s sister was the first to notice. The sound that vibrated in the child’s eardrums was coming from approaching aircraft.
Three black planes flew through the sky at an unbelievable speed, roaring past and shaking the ground so hard it made their knees buckle. Frightened animals hurried back to their nests. The child covered their ears. Both hands were free after they dropped the candy.
After the sound faded, an unpleasant smell lingered in the air. It was unlike anything the child had smelled before: cloying and sick and all-encompassing. The child felt like the smell was clinging to them—like they’d rolled in gasoline or something. They sucked on a piece of candy.
The smell didn’t fade.
“Let’s go home,” the child’s older sister said. The two held hands and ran back to the house. On the way home, they tripped and fell, and the box of their grandfather’s cigarettes was crushed.
That night, the town at the foot of the mountain disappeared. A fire broke out, and every last person died.
Figures shaped like people made of fire wandered through the town. Moaning and crying out for help, they were not monsters or attackers, but the town’s own residents. Those who tried to save the burning people would suddenly ignite from within and die. A person would light a fire to cook dinner, and the whole household would burn up.
No one knew what was happening. People burned like paper.
The child’s older sister and grandfather and mother met the same fate.
The child alone survived without burning. Worried about the cows, the child went outside. When the child returned from the barn, they saw that the house was in flames. They ran back, trying to get inside the house. Someone gripped their arm from behind and tugged them back.
The child was so confused that they didn’t resist when the person dragged them away from the house and into the forest.
The child and their rescuer put some distance between themselves and the burning village. The flames were still visible in the distance, but they were no longer at risk of burning.
There child had so many questions. What had caused all this terror and death? A disease? A poison? Why had it been used? Why had the child’s family burned to death? Who had killed them? The big war was supposed to be happening far away.
The cows were terrified, stuck in the barn as the village burned. No one let them out as the flames spread.
The ground was still slick with rain. The flowers kept blooming, frenzied and over-eager. The child trampled their petals underfoot as they fled from the ruins of their home.
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