Burnt Out

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OM-GEN+                                                                                       

donnan.doug@yahoo.co

                                                         

"Burnt Out"

 by    

Doug Donnan         

                                          

                                    (Blue Spruce Acres, Northern Colorado)

     “I understand your situation Charlie and I really feel your pain, but you signed

the agreement…the contract at the lawyer’s office just like everybody else in this

neighborhood. Now we’re all gonna’ have to bite the bullet on this whole damn wild-

fire mess and do what needs to be done,” Goldpan declared as he waived his chubby

little hand out in front of him as if he were battling some pesky mosquito or horsefly.

     Almost three full weeks had gone by since they all were ‘asked’ by the local police 

and fire department officials to leave their homes. The taste and tinge of the smoke still

lingered in the atmosphere. It came and went in little pockets almost like some nebulous

wafting airborne tide. The entire scene and situation was surrealistic if it was anything.

In the final analysis what it boiled down to was that some of the homes survived the

sweeping statewide inferno and others were reduced to a heartbreaking stand and stack

of charred boards, twisted copper piping and crumbled cinder block foundation walls.

     To make a short story out of what would probably be a very long and painful one,

Jonah Goldpan’s three-bedroom two and a half bath red brick ranch home was one of

and fire department officials the ‘lucky ones’ that had made it through the rolling roiling

firestorm almost totally unscathed, whereas Charlie Trammeli’s humble two-story

clapboard affair simply had not been so lucky! Their rather ‘heated’ discussion was

taking place at the rustic region’s roundabout cul-de-sac beneath one of the judiciously

placed (still soot covered) arching street lights. The bloated alabaster moon and

ubiquitous midnight crickets and cicadas were the sole witnesses to the simmering

argument.

     “My current situation is pretty obvious wouldn’t you say Jonah? I am now a home-less 
person! And, as far as you being able to feel my pain, I just wonder about that,”
Trammeli replied as he pulled down defiantly on the curving brim of his Denver Broncos
cap. “Maybe, since you’ve only recently become so insightful, you can detect the anguish
and deep depression that has engulfed my pregnant wife. What have you to offer her for a
consolation prize Mr. Wizard…huh?”

     “Okay…Okay I can understand your frust— I mean have a heart Charlie,” Goldpan

tried as he looked around the decidedly eerie scene that surrounded them. He was trying

desperately to somehow avoid the icy intensity of his neighbor’s leering blue eyes. 

     “You son of a bitch! Have a heart you say…well if that don’t beat all. You’re askin’

me to continue paradin’ around this damn neighborhood in the dead of night again to fend

off looters and bears to protect your houses and families while my wife and I are laid up

on some canvas army cots in a high school gymnasium waitin’ for a bowl of soup and a

damn sandwich! Is that what you’re gettin’ at?”

     “It’s your turn Charlie,” Goldpan almost sighed with the words. “Like it or not, it’s in

the agreement. We all signed it and swore an oath down at the courthouse. The sheriff

thanked us for our committed service. He needs our help now more than ever to try

and restore some type of—”

     “I’ll tell you what Goldpan,” Trammeli rudely cut in. He now squared off and pressed

his massive fists up into his hips. “Screw the sheriff. Screw the agreement…and screw

you! I’m not gonna’ spend another minute around this godforsaken place. I’m gonna’

jump in that damn ash covered Jeep Cherokee of mine over there, go off to that half-

ass high school gym and get my wife and then just haul ass outa’ here…capiche?”

     At that, Goldpan did noticeably back up a few cautious steps. He fished around

behind his back there in the shadows for a moment and then displayed his little black

38 caliber pistol. “Well, I’m really sorry you feel that way Trammeli,” he all but

whispered. “Then I guess it’s up to me and the others to try and—”

     “Whatcha’ gonna’ do with that popgun Jonah?” Trammeli snapped in again. “You

gonna’ try and make a citizen’s arrest out here in the dark?” He took a few challenging

steps forward. “You’re takin’ this neighborhood watch business a little to far my friend.

I see now… ‘Bite the bullet’ huh? Maybe you’re just gonna’ shoot me now, is that it?”

Trammeli unexpectedly lunged forward and made a try for the pistol. Goldpan jerked

his hand back in shocked surprise. 

KERPOW!

    

Tramelli’s eyes bulged wide in a mask of astonishment as he grabbed at his spurting

chest. He dropped to his knees there in the grass as if gravity itself had just then

become more than he could bear. Very soon a painful grimace, a series of frightful

convulsions and he pitched forward ashen face and orange cap brim into the scorched

Colorado grass. 

***    

     It wasn’t long before some of the ‘lucky’ neighbors had cautiously ventured out from

their houses in their bathrobes and slippers to investigate the silent flashing red lights

down by the fire ravaged section of the cul-de-sac. The two diligent paramedics had

already loaded the black bagged body into the ambulance and were only now just

waiting for Sheriff Polk to give them the thumbs up go ahead sign. The sheriff’s patrol

car was parked off in the shadows in the vicinity of Trammeli’s Jeep. A dark, stealthy

tow truck with it’s practiced operator at the whirring lift was making ready to depart

with the abandoned Jeep vehicle.    

     “Okay, I got your little account of what happened Mr. Goldpan,” Sheriff Polk began

as he furtively slid Goldpan’s little black revolver into the pocket of his trousers.

“Now, let me tell you what I think really went down out here tonight,” he almost

whispered with the wink of a dark chocolate brown eye. “You were taking your

Neighborhood Watch shift as always on this particular Tuesday evening. Walking,

walking, walking and then, suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure

running across this courtyard. It was very dark but, to your credit, you somehow

managed to remember the little particulars of my brief makeshift vigilance training

course after you folks around here signed up as ‘midnight marshals’ for your

neighborhood…Blue Spruce Acres. You tried to contact our dispatcher with your cell

phone several times to no avail. Then you did your best to follow the suspect at a safe

distance. These two things were spot on. However, things took a turn for the worse when

the suspect noticed your presence and decided to double-back and deal with you.

There was a confrontation, you exchanged some unpleasantries and then it got physical.

He pulled a gun and, in the hands on struggle, he was wounded…fatally! That’s it in

a nutshell…period.”

   “But, he wasn’t a looter or some type of cat burglar,” Goldpan tried, “He was one of
us, a neighbor here. He lived right over—”

     “Listen up Mr. Goldpan. I just told you what happened! The suspect was shot with his

own illegal handgun, then rushed to the hospital where he was pronounced d.o.a. . Now,

sooner or later, we’ll quietly announce an investigation into the matter. Some time will

go by and, eventually, all will  be forgotten. I’ll handle the clean up stuff with this fellow’s

wife at the high school gym. It might take some time and money, but she’ll come around to

seein’ this as just an unfortunate accident in unfortunate times. It’s been done before…

many times! You just trust me on this,” Polk said as he pointed and then whipped his

finger forward at the idling ambulance. “I’m up to my ass in alligators all around here

Mr. Goldpan. I’m understaffed, overworked, and underpaid…I’ve got half a dozen other

mountain majesty neighborhoods to contend with out here. I can tell you this for a fact…

I’ve just simply had it! I’m burnt out…capiche?”

     This last word hit Jonah Golpan like a rude slap in the face. He hung his head slightly.      

     “It was all an accident. You tried to stop a fleeing looter. You’re a damn

neighborhood hero my friend. Your house made it through all this. Your family is okay.

Don’t you dare open this can of worms. I’m warnin’ you for your own good and your

neighbors as well… let this go.  I’m whisperin’ to you some words of wisdom

Mr. Goldpan…Just let it be!”

     “I see,” Goldpan sighed. “I think I understand now.”

     Sheriff Polk slowly paced off to his squad car and as he faded out from beneath the

yellow iridescent glow of the looming street light, the ambulance and tow truck silently               

pulled away and disappeared into the night. He turned and said flatly over his shoulder…

     “Go home Mr. Goldpan. Go home... to your family.”

                                         _____ The End____