LOS INCIENDOS

by
Joel Van Noord

He handled finances for a regional biotech on a shrub-covered bluff. Fire torched the base of this bluff and everything east but never climbed higher, firefighters took a stand to save the ridge of billion-dollar machinery and product generation.

There was one death during the battle and many blackened lungs. Many of his co-workers were rich or tame enough to live further inland or further north; they were evacuated. His work, and everything in the city, was thus canceled for a week. The first two days he drank heavily in his apartment and the beach with friends, but now he was getting stir crazy. At three in the afternoon he went for a coffee to read.

"One iced mocha, anything else?" The barista asked and impatiently waited. It was hot. These hot eastward winds were a primary cause for the out-of-control fires. He paused and flirted with her and she smiled and he ordered a chocolate croissant and tipped her well. He stood by as she made the drink and she asked his name.

"Wren, and you?"

"Annie."

"What a fun name."

He nodded and took his drink outside. He chewed and opened the large book Lucian had given him. He was some hundred pages in and it was getting interesting. It was a grown-up book, he didn't read much as it was, little since the drastic books of Kerouac and Henry Miller. This thing was slow and subtle, mature. It was real, or something, went his thoughts. He read about a CIA operative in the Philippines during the Vietnam War and he was lost in the dialogue until two youthfully dressed 30-something's sat down.

Their outfits were hip. Their jeans were crisp and thin and had the pre-worn tears and white threads stretching across their knees. One had on a pink-stripped shirt with the red square centimeter surf logo at the corner of the pocket. They had taken their sunglasses off in the shade provided by the coffee shop. Their tones were subdued. The city had become more subdued and this meant the people in the city were pausing to reflect.

Wren couldn't handle it. The book lost it

s magic for him and it'd be a long time before he'd be able to read again. "I mean, dude, imagine it. First," The man in the pink said quietly like his ideas were secrets. "I mean. It's gnarly. I saw President Bush on tv, in Rancho Arboles walking around. It's, gnarly, man. And, 700,000 dollars each for all those houses? And Relena? totally gone. It's just not there anymore. My mom lives out there and easily, imagine� 700,000 on average, a family of four with 25 yeas worth of� memories."

Wren shook his head and tried to understand why he would be annoyed at this.

"And they say the federal government is going to pay out but you know the insurance companies are going to fight tooth and nail, you know they can't afford to pay everyone what they deserve."

Wren hoped they wouldn't go on to welcome and embrace an infrastructure collapse. Just a week before he'd being hanging with a friend and a young philosophy student was rapping about the tipping point, attacking from the environmental and the civil side. Utter bullshit, thought Wren.

A half hour of passive listening as he slowly drained the liquid from the cup, then he saw a woman walk outside the coffee shop. All three men turned to watch the sexy figure pause and adjust. She had on a large thick motorcycle helmet. It was sleek and dark purple with a few sponsor designs. Wren recognized her outfit and he wanted an adventure. He stood up.

"Nice bike." He said and she turned under the heavy possession of her helmet. He stood there smiling and watched the corners of her eyes wrinkle. She took off her helmet and shook her hair. Then watched him as she brought her hand through her hair several times.

"Yeah?" She asked as he stood there.

"Nothing. That's just a really nice bike." He shrugged and rubbed his hand along it. She tilted her head queerly at him and he thought of how smooth it was. It was a neon green Yamaha. He would never picture a girl like her riding the thing.

She nodded and watched him.

"Anything else?" She asked. She didn't have any tattoos. She was blonde. And she didn't have to pretend to be nice to him. He'd already tipped her.

"Nothing�" He looked off, "I was just wondering if I could catch a ride with you, I kinda went strolling on my snow day and now I'm far from home."

"Snow day, eh?" She scoffed and shrugged. "Sure Dude," She pronounced it hard to create a distance. "Hop on and mama'll take you for a ride."

He smiled at her and she looked away and put on her helmet. Wren hadn't ridden a motorcycle since the toy-like dirt bikes his grandpa had in Riverside. She rose up and jerked down and the thing roared to life. The noise startled him and she turned back and spoke through the two inches of mask, hold on, he figured she'd said.

The bike screamed down the small decline. She hadn't asked him where he wanted to go. She just took off south down Hermosa and he held her shapely hips. They bounced and she slowed for a light and passed the cars as they waited on each other. She sped again to the next light and passed a second cluster of cars. She leaned in for a turn and Wren's hair whipped about as she accelerated down the side street. His ears hurt and she turned again near the ocean and he watched out from behind her shoulder. He wished they were in Big Sur, high on a remote Redwood bluff where they could pull over to an overlook for a romp under the setting sun.

They stopped and she got off her bike. They'd passed the bridge connecting the two bar-beaches. He was now far from his house.

"Hope this is far enough." She said and took off her helmet and turned away from him. He let her walk a few steps. She looked back with a smirk and paused, then turned on her feet.

"You just going to stand there? You know where you live?" She snipped at him. He liked it. He stood there longer and stared and she looked away to the pavement and then back at him.

"I just thought we'd get a drink."

"You just thought we'd get a drink?" She mimicked him and smiled to her feet.

"You are an odd one." She said and they looked at each other. Eight feet away with the yard off to the east and the drive way to the west. To the north the sky was yellow from the fires. Above them was the default blue.

"Well, come in if you want a drink." She said after a pause.

He followed her in and she set her helmet on the kitchen table. Wren loved this. He stepped in the house and began taking it in. It was bright and clean. There were mediocre paintings in a hodgepodge of design. Some were poor first-grade abstract blotches of color. Another was a strangely colored Venice. Surely they knew the artist. Annie looked through her mail on the long tiled table. She looked up and then shrugged.

"This is Gwen." Annie said and motioned to a blonde girl sitting on a stool opposite the table. This girl was eating a bowl of cereal and doing a crossword. She didn't talk.

"Wes, was it?"

"Wren." Wren answered.

"Sure." Annie said and walked past him. She headed for the family room and stopped and went to the fridge, she took out two Pacificos and popped off the tops.

"Cheers." She said.

She was already walking away when she brought the bottle down. Wren watched and followed. She sat down in front of large plasma tv mounted on the wall opposite of them. There was a PC on the floor with a series of wires running up.

In front of them was a low dark wood coffee table. Annie took a pipe and looked inside and flicked the lighter. Then hit the end and dropped it.

The tv popped on. She took a controller that'd been on the table and began to navigate a character around the screen. There were no guns and no jumping and running. She was merely navigating a character around a beach boardwalk not unlike the wide stretch near his apartment.

"You play Second Life?" She asked and Wren shook his head. He felt like going home to take a nap. He felt off. She talked to herself as her avatar wandered about.

"Ok, I'll change real quick, you like this outfit, I bought it at a top designer." She was talking about her character, not herself. She herself wore a faded yellow shirt that said Indiana! and had an image of the state.

"I'm thinking about starting my own coffee shop slash� music venue, you know? And actually have real artists give shows there, charge a cover." Again she was talking about the game and Wren studied her. He was thinking of a good cover to leave, he was also thinking about the long walk home. He wondered if Bastian or Chelsea would pick him up.

He heard the door. A young Asian girl walked in. Wren couldn't help laughing a little and he felt Annie turn as the Asian stared holes at him. Even with her face covered her eyes told enough of the story.

"You caught SARS?" Wren laughed. He wasn't getting anywhere with Annie. She was weird: bikes, dope, and Second Life�

The young Asian stepped in the room and leaned her road bike against a wall and said, "I don't know if that's supposed to be a racial knock but fuck that."

"How could it be racial? It could be national, right. China's the only fucked up place where you have to worry about SARS and Bird Flu�" No one was really listening to him and he looked around at the girls: one studious with cereal and the crosswords, the other disentangling herself form bike gear and a surgical mask, and the last deeply enthralled in a pc projected video game on a thousand dollar flat screen. "Fuck China." Wren said to no response.

"The air quality is horrendous out there." The Asian girl said and Gwen finally looked up. Annie looked over.

"It is. It's scary to go outside. You can get cancer just from being outdoors." Gwen said from the other room.

"The world is not right." The Asian girl sat down after studying the on-screen environment. She then swung her shoulder bag to the front and fished out a baggie.

She took her time with scissors from a small Swiss army knife and cut down the wet buds down to size. Then, between Second Life suggestions to Annie, rolled a joint and lit it. It was like Wren was not even there. The Asian puffed large plumes in the air and handed it to Annie, who, instead of stopping or speaking in response, uttered a few syllables. The Asian held the joint to her lips and Annie puffed away as her avatar stood in front of a highly tattooed man with an electric guitar slung over his shoulder.

"You guys are cracked." Wren said to himself and left. The girls hardly looked after him.

He shut the door and he was looking north. The sky was blue and it was hot. He reached for his cell phone and signed, then saw a longboard and took it, looked behind him and skated off.

He passed the spires of SeaWorld and thought of sticking out his thumb. He pushed with his right leg and the bridge was busy and he felt unsafe. It was the only way he knew and he descended on the off-ramp on the almost-highway and pushed again as the road became flat. He passed the river mouth and it was all uphill.

His phone rang and he answered it.

"I got a new longboard for you if you want� No, skateboard�. Yeah, I know� I'll be over there, like 8� ok 6 it is� Yeah, I got a sweet costume. You'll get a kick out of it�. sure, alright."

It was Bastian. Wren hung up and felt better. He skated more patiently now that he was in his own community. He cut a few streets to the boardwalk and skated with his head turned to the girls in bikinis. The fire-sparking Santa Ana's were good for something, he thought.

At home he popped a beer and put the finishing touches on his costume. He didn't have any second thoughts of people staring at him and questioning. He thought of the scantily dressed girls. The barely of age babies with such soft, soft skin and the short dresses and sexy attire... Ever since Omar went back to school their crowds were getting younger and younger.

The cardboard jutted out from his hips and it was uncomfortable but it was a good costume. He'd planned on going as the Easy button, from Staples, but this was better. It took him longer to prepare and he wasn't as early as Bastian had wanted. Bastian always wanted his friends there first. Conley was there. Chelsea greeted him and she almost knocked him over with the hug. When you took off your clothes for a living, like Chelsea, it wasn't a stretch to shows some skin for Halloween.

He hugged her extra tight.

"And how are you Wren!" She had been drinking.

"Jesus, girl. I don't even care what you are, that's the sickest outfit I've ever seen."

"I'm a japanimation!" She said and pushed his arm.

"Is that racist?" He laughed to himself.

"Come on, let's get you a drink."

They got a drink and there were about 20 people and it was close to eight. The sky was well dark and Nell came over and Chelsea kissed him on the cheek and that's what the non-threatening get, Wren thought. He heard her ask how the surf was and heard her listen to his bullshit answer.

Someone new arrived and she had to greet them. So Nell approached Wren and they nodded. "What's going on, Billy." Wren said and he often called Nell these children's names that ended in ly.

"Not much Stan." Nell had begun to push back. Wren smiled.

"What are you supposed to be?"

Nell shrugged, "Eh, I'm a Ghostbuster."

"Nice."

Wren turned and spoke as he put his drink to his mouth. He walked and looked at the family room full of people. He watched Chelsea in her breathtakingly short dress and he scanned the eyes in the room. Then walked down the hallway and knocked lightly on a door. He noticed Nell was following him.

"Yeh?" He heard the quick, crisp question.

"It's me."

Bastian opened the door and Wren took a step in. There was a black kid Wren had seen around. The kid was a skater and an MC, Wren wasn't sure in what order.

They shook hands and Bastian introduced the kid, whose name was Switch, apparently. It smelled of smoke and the kid's eyes were red. Wren noticed he was staring at him as he sat down.

"What are you supposed to be?"

Wren was always taken aback by how clearly and un-ghetto the kid spoke. He was a skater, after-all� but also an MC. He didn't let Wren answer.

"You're not what I think you are?" Switch asked and he sounded a little like Nell, maybe he too had a perpetual cold from the water. "That's bullshit dude." He laughed distantly. "Yo, who's this dope, B?"

"Relax." Wren said and scoffed him off. Bastian was staring at him blankly.

"Don't tell me to relax, that is bull-shit, you know?" He said rhythmically. "I'm not in the mood for a pounce, but I'd count on one if I were you."

"Fuck you." Wren said and Nell sat there and Bastian turned in his seat and Wren heard typing on a keyboard.

"You are a motherfuck." Switch smiled in disbelief. "Like I said, I am not the one who is gonna tip you on your ass, but it'll happen."

"Alright bro." Was all Wren could say. He knew his costume would get attention. He only thought it'd be from girls he could tease.

"Here." Bastian said and they all looked. "Wow, 28 total fires. Eight are fully contained� 500 structures destroyed. Five deaths. Christ, says damage could be around a billion dollars."

"One day of fighting in Iraq." Wren said and they looked at him.

"Brave man." Switch shook his head.

"Switch and I were discussing lyrics."

Wren mumbled and now he was in a bad mood. They spoke a little and Switch said,

"Alright, pass that thing around one more time and I gotta get to my girl's."

"You date white girls?" Wren couldn't help but ask.

"She is a white girl and she's got tattoos and glasses. You cool with that Snoop Dog?"

Wren didn't know why he called him Snoop Dog, so he looked away.

"Alright." Switch blew smoke at Wren and stood up. He slapped hands with Bastian and extended a fist for Nell as he walked past.

When he was gone Bastian said, "Too soon man."

"Come on, why? It's funny."

"I don't think it is." Bastian seemed to truly contemplate.

"We can't let it beat us."

"It already did."

"It's bad taste, dude." Nell said and Wren felt like back-handing the kid in the face. He just looked at him and then sighed. This was supposed to be a wonderful night full of easy girls and lots of skin. Instead there was this dread that he brought on his own.

They took a shot to loosen up and Bastian quickly counted through some money and looked off into space. He nodded and they exited.

It was crowded now and Wren quickly drank a few more beers. Mandy had walked in with a few friends and Nell went to her. She let him kiss her on the neck and he sided up close to her body, his hand rested on her hip and she liked this. It was not common for him to be this aggressive.

"Dr. Vinanya." He heard and it was Grey, Christ, he knew he was in trouble when Grey was the one that needed to save him.

"The fuck you talking about ol' man?"

Grey laughed. "Dr. Vinanya lost his house and his wife got in the paper receiving a hug from the President."

Wren scoffed, "What did the President say?"

"What could he say? 'In Texas we got fires twice this size?'" Grey joked in a poor accent. "I don't know, I haven't talked to him." He continued and Wren nodded and said, "Well, at least he got to meet the President."

"He thinks the President's an asshole, I'm sure he'd rather have his house." Grey said with an aggressive smile the way only a professor can do.

Wren shook his head and Grey rose his cup and drank.

"Go die in a retirement home." Wren said quietly as the old man walked away.

It was well constructed, they had to give him that. It was intricate and there were several layers and he even had windows and porches and palm trees he'd cut out and pasted to the box he wore around his torso. But it didn't stop there. If it did he would only be a neighbourhood.

There were flames he cut from red construction paper and positioned to rise over his left shoulder and from the centre of his belly. There wasn't hiding what he was.

He was outside filling his cup when he felt tension, bad vibes. He turned around after slowly dripping his glass mug to the brim.

There was a fat, sloppy kid staring holes at him. Wren sighed and rolled his eyes.

The fat kid didn't say anything. Wren didn't know who he was. Probably some undergrad that tagged along with one of Omar's teenie girls.

"You a fat kid dressed as a fat man?" Wren asked. The kid pushed him with weak spaghetti arms. Wren rolled his eyes again. If the kid wasn't such a faggot they could get down to it, Wren thought. But the chubby collegiate began talking and threatening and Wren drank from his mug. He drained half of it and then the rest of it and was contemplating smashing the thing over the kid's head but he really liked the mug and he didn't want it to break.

The kid was in his face and it was his mom's house, maybe, or an aunt, but the kid was spitting and people were staring now and there were ugly little hairs jutting from the kids nose and his teeth were yellow.

So, Wren switched the beer mug to his left hand and then exploded with his right hand. He grabbed the kid by the throat and threw him out and down into the grass. "FUCK YOU!" he yelled to the brat as his two friends stood back, shocked.

Wren looked down at the little shit again and just as he was going to turn and fill his mug, he saw a flash and the next thing he knew he was on his back and he felt a pain of embarrassment race from his toes to his scalp. The pain then centred

His eyes focused and he saw his good friend Conley, cracking his fingers. Bastian was directly above him with Chelsea off to his shoulder. No one extended a hand.

"You should have learned after 9.11, dude."

The cardboard had broken most of the fall. Conley had pushed him to the ground. Around him were girls in lacy underwear and angel wings.

� Joel Van Noord
Reproduced with permission

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