BlackFire - Chapter One

Chapter One

The night someone tried to burn down the AME Church, Wheeler Adams was installing a new bay window that would overlook the yard behind the Big House. Through the bay window Adams' housekeeper would be able to see the garden and barn and see if the chores were being done. Nell believed if she didn't keep an eye on Adams, he might slip off down to the river and go fishing. And he just might. Adams had a new eight-and-a-half-foot, five-weight, Winston graphite fly rod. So intent on her supervising, Nell didn't see the orange glow off in the night sky.

Nell was a skinny black woman with a streak of gray wandering through hair pulled back into a bun. She was small of frame and had a lantern jaw. Over forty years ago she'd been hired as the Adams' nanny. Outnumbered four to one by the Adams' children, Nell favored a switch, something sorely lacking when it came to Adams' own daughter, a seventeen-year-old spending the Fourth of July weekend in the country. Savannah stood alongside Nell, arms crossed.

"Other parents let their kids out at night, Daddy."

Adams said nothing. He was well over six feet tall, deeply tanned,and almost in as good shape as he'd been when he'd played ball at Georgia;but he was no match for his daughter."I used to drive the pickup when I lived out here, even the tractor. Anyway,I just want to run into town and see what's going on." Savannah had her mother's dark blue eyes and auburn hair, and Adams' lanky frame. But she was going nowhere. The last time the girl had taken the pickup out for a spin,she'd been caught drag racing by the Chick County sheriff.

"Savannah," Nell said, "it's after ten. Jest where were you planning on going at this hour?"

"Oh - to see someone."

"Who?"

"Really, Nell, it's none of your business."

"Yes, it is, girl, long as you're here at the Springs."

"Nell, I was talking to my father."

Adams picked up another screw and fastened it to the bit. He was putting the screws into shims and through the rough opening.

"Perhaps you should reconsider where you live, Savvy."

His daughter shook a finger at him."Don't go there, Daddy! Whenever my friends ask me why you and Mother don't live together, I tell them you have to live here to take care of the Springs."

The teenager looked through the new window, and beyond the gardener, who was helping from the outside. Behind the elderly black man was a one-acre garden lit by an arc light.

"Not that you do much of that."

Savannah was referring to the fact that ten thousand acres might make up Chick Springs Plantation, but her father, and the few people who lived here,did little more than subsistence farming. And the house where the bay window was being installed was a fifteen-thousand-square-foot antebellum monster situated on a low hill overlooking acres and acres of South Georgia farmland. In theory, Adams was the master of all he surveyed; in practice it was quite another thing. Nell raised her voice over the whine of the drill.

"Girl, you are jest too judgmental for your own good." Savannah sniffed. "I think for myself, Nell. My father taught me to do that."

Then a change of tone to add, "It's really the pits to be stuck out here, Daddy, if you can't go anywhere."

"Why, girl," Nell said, "you used to love living here. Your horse is still in the barn, though you ain't been riding him much."

Savannah tossed her head."I'm more into cars these days, Nell, but I'll drive a pickup when I'm desperate."The drill stopped again, and what the teenager said next proved her father wasn't the only one using a sharply-pointed instrument."Mother sees other men when she's in town, Daddy."

Adams didn't appear to hear her, the key to survival for any Southern male.

"Mother says you're pigheaded about living out here. Nana thinks so, too."On the other side of the glass Roosevelt looked away. The elderly black man wore a Braves baseball cap, overalls, and was amazed that windows came in boxes these days, not like when they'd had to be built from scratch.

"It's kind of hard to explain," continued the white girl on the other side of the glass, "that your parents are married but don't live together."

"Mister Wheeler," said Roosevelt, looking off in the distance, "you better come out here and take a look at this."

"In a minute," said Adams, fitting another screw into the bit."I don't want to lose this thing."

Roosevelt pointed in the direction of the county seat over ten miles away. That left one hand and his face holding the window in place. Roosevelt didn't trust brackets. It wasn't natural for a window to be hung this way."Look at that."Adams was bent over inside the bay. Now he looked in the direction the gardener pointed.

"Ain't that the church?" asked Roosevelt.

Nell shouldered Adams out of the way, put her hands inside the window, and leaned into the convex shape."Oh, Lordy, Wheeler, it is! There ain't nothing between here and Lee's Crossroads but the church."

Adams put down the drill."Roosevelt, get the hose, ax, and fire extinguisher from the barn."

"Yes, sir." The elderly black man stepped down from the ladder. Immediately the bay sagged. So much for brackets. Adams stopped at the back door to activate the security alarm which was on a three-minute delay.

"Nell, call Bobbie Lee, would you? Savannah, you stay here."He went out through the mud room and down the steps. In the pickup he found the keys in the ignition and cranked the engine. His daughter ran around to the other side.

"Savvy, I told you to stay here."

"Don't be silly, Daddy. That's my church, too."

Savannah was referring to when Nell would haul her off to church and Sunday school. At that time Roosevelt and Adams were expected to attend services. All in all the two men were pleased when the teenager expressed an interest in spending more time in Atlanta with her mother.

Nell climbed in the pickup, shoving Savannah over and closing the door behind her. When Adams backed the pickup around to the mouth of the barn Roosevelt threw a thick, black hose in the bed, followed by a fire extinguisher and an axe, then climbed in after them."Hurry, Wheeler," said Nell."Hurry."Adams shifted gears and the truck jerked forward, causing Roosevelt to lose his balance and sit down in the remains of the last load. In this case, hay. Roosevelt was lucky this hadn't been the week to muck out the stables.

Inside the cab Nell fussed at the portable telephone."What's Bobbie Lee's number, Wheeler? I can'ts remember."

"Speed-dial one."

Nell punched in the number while Savannah held onto the dash. In the rear Roosevelt gripped the sides as the pickup as it raced across the gravel turnaround in front of the Big House and down the dirt road between the cedars. Approaching the gate Savannah touched a remote on the passenger-side visor and the metal gate slid opened. And she had to punch at the remote several times to hit it. The pickup was really moving and the road seriously pot-holed. The potholes didn't bother her father. Adams didn't care much for visitors.

"Bobbie Lee's on the way," said Nell, turning off the phone."Lelia Plummer done called her already."

At the county highway the pickup made a wide arc and the wheels ran off the road. This caused Roosevelt to lose his grip on the side and slid across the bed, thumping into the cab along with the hose, ax, and fire extinguisher.

"Still with us, Roosevelt?"

"So far, Mister Wheeler."A mile down the blacktop they turned onto the state highway and headed toward the county seat. Even with the windows down everyone began to sweat. It was August-hot, and this was only the first of July. The air was thick with humidity, and off in the distance that yellow glow."What if Bobbie Lee doesn't get there in time, Daddy?"

Adams patted his daughter's knee."She will, Savvy. She will." He glanced at his housekeeper. Nell didn't look so confident. Not only did the volunteers have to be rounded up, but the truck was on the other side of the county. Savannah chewed on a nail while Nell said a prayer. The pickup raced down the highway. The Shiloh AME Church sat in the middle of a gravel horseshoe; a building with no front windows as the congregation had tired of replacing the panes knocked out by vandals one too many times. A long row of windows on the sides - covered by shutters and locked from inside - plus a series of overhead fans, cooled the interior. When an addition had been added at the rear, the new room had been built with its roof lower than that of the original auditorium, thus giving the room more light. Morning services could be quite a sight with all that sunlight streaming through those new windows over the sanctuary. As the truck pulled into the parking lot, Roosevelt spoke through the sliding glass window."I've got the hose ready."

"Give it to Nell. She can hook it up while I'm using the extinguisher on the doors."

And Nell was raring to go, until the truck slid to a stop. The sight of the vestibule doors in flames stunned her. And broke her heart. This wasn't just any church on fire. This was the first place black people had felt free to speak their minds in Chick County. All the pennies, dimes, and dollars that had gone into keeping up this . . . shrine - that was all there were to it; it was a shrine to the Lord, and to their ancestors. At least to their ancestors' hard work.

"Nell, you've got to get moving."

She nodded, then fumbled her way out of the truck. Nell was headed for the side of the church where a huge oak stood parishioners almost came to blows over who'd park in its shade during the Dog Days of Summer. Under the oak was a faucet. Taking the hose from Roosevelt, Nell stumbled around the front of the pickup, unable to keep her eyes off those flames. Roosevelt stood tall in the bed, looking for anyone lurking in the graveyard or running across the field on the other side of the highway. He saw no one.

With extinguisher in hand, Adams headed for the fire."Stay in the truck, Savvy, and this time I mean it."

"Be careful, Daddy." The teenager bit a nail and stared at the blaze. The whole building appeared to be on fire.

As her father strode over to the vestibule doors the blaze ignited the hollies on either side of the stoop - they burst into flames - and began crawling up the sides. Adams opened up on the fire with the extinguisher and it quickly foamed out, doing little damage. Adams cursed,dropped the canister to the ground, and headed for the faucet. As he did more cars and pickups arrived and people piled out with buckets and hoses. Most were elderly, many wearing clothing over pajamas and gowns. Some used canes. One was even on a walker. In the distance a siren could be heard.

"Where's the preacher?" asked Nell as Adams took the hose from her.

No one knew and all of the new arrivals had come from Creekside, the black community.

"Where's Lelia and Minny?" asked Nell.

Everyone looked around, studying those next to them, then staring at the fire, first with a dazed look, then with growing horror.

"Oh, Lordy." Nell gripped Adams' shoulder. The white man was bent over, connecting the hose to the faucet."Wheeler, there's people inside."

Adams straightened up and stared at the fire. An accelerant had been used and the flames were reaching for the roof and the cross mounted there.

"It's Saturday night," explained Nell."Lelia Plummer and Minny Jackson are in there."

Behind them a black sports car slid to a stop and a teenager leaped out, leaving his door open. He was a caramel-colored young man wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and a backwards baseball cap."Miss Nell, have you seen my grandmother?"

"Mister Wheeler, you might need this."

Adams turned around to find Roosevelt holding out the ax. Adams snatched the ax out of the elderly man's hand and disappeared around the side of the building."Daddy!" Savannah flung open the door of the pickup and ran after him. At the rear of the church they found Adams going at a door with the ax.

Nell's hand rose to her throat."The door's locked?"

Sweat ran down the sides of Adams' face and the dampness forced him to grip the ax tightly so it wouldn't get away from him."Front door on fire. . . back door locked? Doesn't make . . . sense."

"Did you check the door?"

"I said it was locked, Nell!"

"Is there any heat? Remember what the volunteers taught us."

Adams stopped in mid-swing, then nodded."You're right." He touched the door."No heat."

"Thank God." The fire guards might still be alive, just overcome by smoke.

Gary Plummer was doing a jig, like a little boy who needed to pee."Hurry, hurry!" he said. When the door splintered, he muttered, "Thank you, Jesus." As it fell to pieces he dashed inside - and immediately was driven back by the smoke. He staggered away,coughing. The others joined him. The siren was closer now but could hardly be heard over all the coughing.

Adams reached inside and flipped the light switch. Amazingly, the lights came on, and when he stepped back to clear his throat,the others peered down the murky hallway. To the left were the restrooms; to the right, a storage room, then a larger room where Sunday school was taught and the choir practiced Thursdays night, but with all the smoke, you could see none of that.

"Minny!" yelled Nell."Lelia - you in there?"No answer from inside the building. Nell coughed again."I don'ts know, Wheeler. Looks pretty bad in there."

Roosevelt joined them. In his hands was a flashlight, a small can of fire extinguisher, and a bucket with a bandanna floating inside."I moved your truck, Mister Wheeler, or that pumper is gonna run over it for sure."

Adams leaned the ax against of the side of the church, then fished the bandanna from the bucket and wrapped the cloth around the lower part of his face. The small extinguisher he hooked to his belt.

"I need something," said Plummer, referring to Adams' bandanna and light.

"Get me something!" He was doing that jig again. The kid just couldn't stand still.

"Gary, you'd better let me check this out first."

"Daddy, why can't you wait for Bobbie Lee?"

Her father gestured at the sky before taking the bucket of water from Roosevelt. In the distance you could hear the sound of the approaching siren."Bobbie Lee's still a goo five minutes away."

"But, Daddy. . . ."

Adams held the bucket over his head, and after dousing himself,returned it to Roosevelt. Flipping on the flashlight, he took a breath and plunged inside the smoky entrance.

He glanced inside the restrooms, then the storage room. In the storage room water ran into an over-sized sink, mops and brooms sat along side a heavy steel bucket, and shelves ran the length of the room. Those shelves were filled with detergent, toilet paper, and farther down, blankets. Adams pushed on through the smoke and into the Sunday School room: a large room separated by dividers decorated with scenes from the New Testament. Fluorescent lights burned overhead but were of little help. Working his light around the room, Adams saw neither woman, but they had made camp here. Soft drink cans and baggies littered child-size chairs. In one lay a cell phone. Gary Plummer joined him with a wet blanket over his shoulders and a towel held to his face."My grandmother?"

"Probably in the auditorium."

"I told her not to do this thing."

"Gary, the elders told the fire guards not to try to put out any fire."

But Plummer was gone, looking for a way into the auditorium. Chairs were knocked aside, dividers fell over, and the piano made an out-of-tune sound as he stumbled around in the smoke-filled room.

"Over here!"

Adams stood at a small door leading into the sanctuary. Trying to keep the church tightly contained, this one small door was the only access between the auditorium and the addition.

The two men hustled up a set of short steps that came out behind a staggered row of pews and a wrought-iron railing separating the choir from the congregation. From there they could see where the flames had burned into the vestibule, then become channeled to the ceiling and its overhead beams. From those beams hung fans and the auditorium's lights: rectangular-shaped canisters crafted out of copper with small crosses on all four sides. Flames cast weird shadows across the rows of pews and down an aisle running the length of the auditorium.

Adams thought he saw something at the end of that aisle and he was moving toward the steps when he stumbled over . . . Lelia Plummer."Maw-Maw." Plummer gave the white man a small shove, forcing Adams to finish stepping over the unconscious woman. Next to the elderly woman lay an empty bucket and a pool of water. Plummer scooped up his grandmother and headed for the door, but as he turned around, the blanket fell from his shoulders and he clunked the woman's head into a choir pew. Then he was gone, through the small door, down the stairs,and into the smoky darkness.

Outside Plummer ignored questions about his grandmother, along with those about Adams and Jackson. Instead, he broke into a run, heading for the front of the building.

"Tell someone to call EMS!" Nell hollered after the boy."Minny might need it."

But all she got in return was: "I told her not to do this thing. I told her not to" before Gary Plummer disappeared around the building with his grandmother.

Savannah stepped toward the smoking door.

"Daddy, please come out of there!"

"This ain't right," said Nell."At the first sign of trouble, them guards was �pose to call Bobbie Lee, then git out of there."Roosevelt nodded, remembering the drill. The phone call was to make the guards stop and think - and remember that the arsonist might still be lurking around, making sure his fire took. But the fire had been started at the front. Why?

Inside the auditorium Adams picked up Plummer's blanket, threw it over his shoulder, and headed down the aisle. With light from the flames he saw Jackson lying in front of the burning doors.

"Mrs. Jackson, get away from that door!"

The woman did not move nor did she answer him. As Adams stumbled toward her one of the lamps lost its grip on an overhead beam and fell into the pews. It landed with a crash and a thud. Outside in the parking lot someone shouted how best to attack the fire. The volunteers were going to put a stream of water through the vestibule, and when they did, those doors would certainly collapse on Jackson.

Adams yelled for them to hold up, and for his trouble got a mouthful of smoke. Smoke was everywhere, rolling off the ceiling, pushing down in black balls, looking for new victims. The front of the building was completely engulfed in flames. So were Jackson's feet.

Adams put down his light, grasped the heavy woman under the arms, and pulled her out of the flames. From his belt he unsnapped the fire extinguisher and sprayed foam all over Jackson's feet and lower legs. And he had to use his free hand to steady himself. His head ached,tears blurred his vision, and for the life of him, he could not stop coughing. And it was hot. The hair on his arms was gone, the skin dry enough to cook. Tossing away the empty can, Adams threw the wet blanket over the woman. He was brushing a piece of smoldering wood off his shoulder - it stung! - when someone on the other side of the burning doors shouted "Ready!"

Adams grabbed Jackson under the arms and started pulling her down the aisle. He wasn't quick enough. When the water hit the doors the people outside let out a cheer,but inside the auditorium those doors exploded down the aisle like Fourth of July fireworks. Adams ducked behind a pew, then returned to the aisle where he jerked the blanket off Jackson, along with several pieces of burning wood and puddles of water. When he stood up to wave his hands overhead and catch the attention of the firemen, the stream of water hit him, knocking him to the floor.

Stunned, Adams sat there watching the flames engulf the roof, the hose being worked around the flaming mouth, and overhead lamps dropping to the floor. One landed where Mrs. Jackson had once lay. Adams coughed, then grasped Jackson under the arms and started toward the sanctuary. It was tough sledding. His every movement was labored and he couldn't stop coughing. The stream of water soaked him but did nothing for the smoky buildup, perhaps even made it worse. Another lamp crashed into the pews. Left, right, ahead of them; at this point, Adams didn't know or care. For some reason the room was growing darker and darker. Was that right? There were all these flames. Trodding along, putting one foot behind him at a time, and concentrating on not loosing his grasp on Jackson, Adams bumped into the steps leading to the sanctuary. He lost his hold on Jackson and sat down hard. From where he sat, and coughed, he could see the volunteers on the other side of the flames, less than a hundred feet away. It would be so easy to just sit here and wait for them. Ludicrous, too.

Using the wrought iron railing, he pulled himself to his feet and teetered over Jackson. The woman lay at his feet somewhere, in the haze below him. His eyes burned and he couldn't see. Adams was dragging the unconscious woman toward the door at the rear of the sanctuary when the water hit him again, straightening him up and knocking him into the doorway. He lost his grip on Jackson, fell down the steps, and slid into the Sunday School room where he passed out.

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