Maurader's Fire

Mazy Banks looked out at the river. She stood in the middle of the bridge. The lanes that should have held cars held only silence. Her hands gripped the bridge’s concrete edge; as they tightened, their color drained until it matched the stone.

From a distance, a click reached her ears. She jerked her hands from the bridge. A black stone caught her eye, and she hurled it in the direction the sound had emerged. The rock flew until it glanced off a net by the side of the riverbank before disappearing.

A smile flickered across her face, but the sound of the click echoed again.

“Not again. Not now.”

She kicked the edge of the bridge, and with a gasp, her face filled with tears. She leaned forward and looked. A tear fell from her face and plummeted into the river below.

She stood up, took a deep breath, and said, “I’ve got this.”

Next to her, she grabbed a large red can, tipped it, and poured it as she ran back and forth across the bridge.

When the liquid stopped, so did she.

The scent of the golden liquid made her nose crinkle.

She stepped away from the wet spot; a silver object emerged from her pocket, and with a flick and toss, she ran.

Behind her, a roar of heat emerged. For a moment, it seemed to reach out to her, wanting to grab her and reel her in towards it, but she stretched her legs, and soon she was off the bridge.

She looked at the fire and smiled.

In the distance on the other side, two clicks roared out.

She silently cursed.

As she stepped back, she saw flashes of red and heard a siren.

“Oh, really.”

She shook her head and ran down the street. On her left, she could see a track. Beyond it, a large park filled with grass, not people. Shadows from the trees seemed to reach for her.

Her back arched as if ants were crawling down it. She clenched her fists and fled from the park.

She raced down the sidewalk. The empty streets blurred as she moved.

Up ahead, a flash of red coming off a side street made her skid to a stop. Her hands shot to her chest, and her lungs filled with the incoming deep breath.

With a hiss, she turned down the side street.

A flash of blue caused her to dart behind a house.

A crackle hissed, followed by a voice.

“Be aware, Mazy set fire to the Market Bridge; bring her here when you get her.”

“Roger.” The voice swept around the corner and sent more shivers through her.

Mazy shook her head and snuck up the road. With a twist or two, she found herself back at the bridge.

The fire, smoke, and red lights were gone.

“You want me. Fine! On my terms.”

With that, she flew over the bridge, and as she turned right, she saw cars, lots of cars in the grass. Parked right up to the dike and the metal wall.

She stayed on the sidewalk; she didn’t even dare count the cars, too many.

In the distance ahead, clicks went off, and a small roar reached her ears, sending chills down her spine.

She ran towards it when she saw a person with his face on his phone. Her footfalls drew him away for a moment, and he held up his other hand, and with a click, the silver device caused her to shriek.

She ran away from him. As she looked back, she saw that he was possessed by the iPhone in his hand. She slowed for the turn.

The cars on the sides of the road were dense, and with another turn she saw it. The underside of the bleachers behind a cement wall.

And the clicks went off; her roar of frustration was drowned by the roar from behind the wall.

She saw the gates open, unmanned. She surged toward them and went in.

The darkness of the tunnel caused her to gulp. Sweat dribbled down her brow, and with each step her heart skipped and pounded.

Finally, the light blinded her, and a roar of sound mingled with clicks filled her. She screamed as she noticed the scoreboard. Mazy’s Marauders - 0; Cindy’s Clickers - 12.

On the field, a whistle blew, and she saw the dark blue-clad girls swarm the black and white ball. The girls in yellow seemed as if they were standing still as their players sliced through them.

As the black and white ball spun past the girl by the goal, the crowd roared, and in their hands she could see the small metal device, the same as the kid with the iPhone had. As they pushed on it, the clicks caused her face to flush red with anger.

The anger broke as a voice called to her. “Mazy, you’re not allowed to be here.”

Mazy shrugged, hopped the wall, and climbed down to the field below. She found herself behind the girls in the yellow jerseys.

A murmur and smiles from the girls in front of her, she stepped to the sideline. She shouted to her girls, “The only next clicks I want to hear are your cleats running on the ground and your toes pounding that ball until it’s in the goal.”

They heard; somehow, they all heard despite the noise. And in that moment, the yellow team came to life. And with the sound of the buzzer, the final ball found itself in the net in favor of the yellow team.

She smiled as her girls swarmed her. “See, girls, if they didn’t cheat and ban me from the last few games, we would have won this. We would have won this. This is on them, not you, not me. This is our game, and you can see how we would have won despite them.”

A tall blond in blue soon disrupted the girls’ cheers. Two people accompanied her: one an officer in blue, the other a man in a brown suit with a thick brown mustache.

The blond said, “Mazy. You can’t be here.”

“Cindy. You know we would have won if I were.”

Cindy shook her head and sighed. “You were banned because you intentionally tripped a player so your team could win.”

“A soccer mom’s gotta do whatever it takes to win.”

Cindy asked. “And did you set the Market Street bridge on fire?”

A smallish red-headed girl next to her said, “Mom, did you?”

Mazy clenched her fists, snorted through her nose, and her eyes glared as she answered defiantly, “What if I did?”

“It didn’t do anything except maybe ban you for life from coaching.”

“These are my girls and team; they would have won.”

“A fire, though?”

Mazy smiled as she said, “As I said, a soccer mom’s first duty is to win at all costs.”

Cindy shook her head.

The officer in blue held out a pair of handcuffs. “I don’t want to do this in front of the kids. I am giving you a choice, though.”

Mazy gritted her teeth before spitting out, “What choice?”

The officer pointed to the man in brown. “This man is a mental health counselor. Agree to see him on a regular basis, and clean up what you did plus another 500 hours of community service, and I won’t do anything, and yeah, the judge would throw the book at you, so consider that.”

Mazy’s eyes flared at him.

But the little voice from the red-headed girl caused her face to flush with embarrassment. “Please, Mom, please get help.”

Mazy’s eyes met her daughter’s. The sunlight in her daughter’s eyes felt like it was burning Mazy. Her mind clicked as she shook her head.

She fell to her knees. She looked at her daughter. “Anything for you,” she said.

Their embrace was joined by tears that doused the fire within Mazy.