Andy could hardly hear the roar of the dilapidated old pickup over the sound of his excitement.

“You excited, Andy?” called Tyrone over the din of the pickup.
“Yeah, you excited?” echoed Terry, always the copycat.
Andy checked the road before turning to reply, “As excited as I have ever been or will be!”
“Because Kat’s going to be there, huh?” jeered Tyrone.
“Aww, leave me alone. She’s cool, okay! And that’s not why I’m excited, anyways.”
“That’s not why I’m excited,” Terry mocked in his best Andy voice.
All three guys burst out laughing. Terry had been a jokester since second grade. Tyrone had been one, too, he just didn’t always show it. Now was one of the rare occasions when he did. Andy loved it. That was one of the main reasons they were his best friends. They were the only ones he trusted to go with him to the Mid-Eastern Fall Carnival. Despite his parents' absolutely forbidding him, Andy had still gone every year with them since freshman year. He didn’t feel any guilt about going if Tyrone and Terry were there. Besides, he was a senior, and it was the last week of school. Finals had ended, an interminable amount of goodbyes said, and all the fuss. If there was any time to have fun, it was now.
“Your mom’ll kill you if she finds out you went to the carnival.” Tyrone reminded Andy.
“Yeah, she’ll KILL you,” added Terry, making the word “kill” about seventy syllables longer than it was.
“Eh, she’ll never find out. And if she does, Terry’s taking the BLAME,” Andy retaliated, making the word “blame” even longer than Terry had made “kill.” Terry feigned a fake hurt, clutching his head and blabbering, “Mrs. Neill! No, Mrs. Neill, don’t ground me! I’m innocent!”
Andy chuckled before turning back to announce, “We’re here, guys!”
All three men filed out of the truck onto the abandoned grass lot just adjacent to the carnival. Here they planned to park for the night, enjoying the carnival until their exciting little act was to be displayed.
Tyrone asked quietly, “Did you bring the surprise?”
Terry, almost like a shadow following Tyrone around, reiterated, “Do you have the surprise?”
Andy thought for a second about how much trouble he would be in if their little “surprise” went wrong, but quickly pushed all contrition aside and responded, “The fireworks? They’re right under here,” motioning under the seat.
“Get ‘em out, but real quiet-like, so you don’t let anyone know we’re around,” whispered Tyrone.
“Yeah, real quiet,” echoed Terry.
“All right, all right! I’ve got them right here, and no one’s gonna see us or catch us doing it either. Now chill out and calm down,” hissed Andy. Thankfully, they had all brought black clothing - enough to cover head to toe - and planned to use all of it to blend into the night when it came time. Their favorite advantage, one they had had since birth but never took for granted, was that they were all descendants of African-American ancestors with short, dark hair, especially Tyrone and Terry. These young men had gone through life together, and they all trusted each other more than brothers. If there was any element more crucial in illegal activity, it was trust.
The surprise was to stay in the truck, but the guys went on to the carnival. Once they reached it, they entered together but quickly dispersed to their favorite stalls. They played games and rode the rides for a few hours, exhausting their tickets. Their peace was undisturbed except on one occasion when all three men had ended up at the same booth. The game operator was a middle-aged man, his costume almost all black except for parts of his face peering out. His face alone was enough to cause nightmares, garish and ominous as it was. Centered on his heart was a flashy yellow name tag that read “Montresor.” He was a new operator, the former operator at this stall had been the guys’ favorite in the whole carnival. He greeted them with a twisted smile, easily fake but endeavoring to keep it genuine.
He turned to the guys and commenced, “Welcome to ‘Be Careful What You Wish For,’ where exuberant hopes could turn into deadly nightmares. How many tickets?”
Tyrone checked with Terry and Andy before replying, “Six.”
“Six tickets it is.”
“Six tickets it is,” Terry mocked, causing Montresor’s face first to pucker in annoyance, then to quickly mask his fury by smiling back a disarming smile.
“The rules are as follows. Try to throw the ball into the path where you think the prize is hidden. If you throw it down the wrong path, you lose all your tickets. If you throw it down the right path,” at this, he suddenly stared at Terry almost evilly, his intimidating grin showing as if he were planning something Terry, Tyrone, and Andy didn’t know about, “Let’s just say there will be amontillado.”
“Way too easy,” bragged Tyrone.
Tyrone threw first, with Andy following. Both missed easily, proving the game was a fluke, not meant to be won. Terry was the last to throw, his confidence boosted with each second. When he finally did, his ball sailed into one of the paths and rolled down. When it stopped, a buzzer indicated that the ball had gone down the right path. Tyrone and Andy were not only impressed by the fact that Terry found the right path, but that he actually got the ball to go in.
Montresor’s fake smile turned into an unwilling frown; his words carried a chilling undertone. “Well done. Here is your reward of 10 tickets. Enjoy the Mid-Eastern Fall Carnival.”
“What? Only ten tickets? Lame,” responded Terry.
Besides the strange run-in with Montresor, the guys had an excellent night altogether, flirting, having fun, hanging out, and enjoying their senior adrenaline while it lasted. Even though they felt satisfied, they were nowhere close to feeling it yet. The epic fireworks display was soon to begin.
As they left the carnival, Andy exclaimed, “That. Was. Great.”
“Yeah, but nowhere near what’s coming,” reminded Tyrone.
“Nowhere near,” repeated Terry, “But hey, down to business. Andy, you’re on for the prep work, Tyrone, you get the laptop, and I’ll get the switches and handle the blast-off. Hop to it, men!”
While Andy and Tyrone jumped to the physical processes, Terry went over the final details. When they had triple-checked everything, they decided it was time to kick off their final senior surprise.
Just before they were about to start, Tyrone, his face suddenly alert, whispered, “Was it just me, or did a shadow just flash past those bushes?”
“Ooo, a shadow! Scary,” Terry teased Tyrone.
“It could’ve been the police! Come on, cut me some slack,” Tyrone defended.
“Don’t know what you guys are fighting over, but I’ve checked the setup over here - we’re good to go!” Andy cut in.
“Ok, then here we go,” Terry said, “Three.”
Andy looked at his friends, trusted companions who would die for him.
“Two.
One.”
For a split second before Terry said “one,” Andy heard a rush of air and vaguely made out a flash of yellow near the bases of the fireworks. Whatever it could’ve been, it didn’t matter. He was graduating, on top of the world with the best friends he’d ever had, about to experience a beautiful finish to a wonderful night. Why care about disturbances when everything could go great?
Because everything could go wrong.
“Zero.”
As Terry clicked the button, Andy looked from his place behind a bush to Terry crouched behind the pickup, with Tyrone and the gear next to him. In a split second, Andy’s vision burst with color. All the grass around lit bright orange, with more fireworks continually skimming along the ground causing immolation everywhere they made any contact. The searing heat was almost enough to burn Andy alive, but he fearfully jumped over the flame-spurting bush to free himself. Just when he had landed on the ground, he realized he could be hit by a stray firework at any second and had to think of something quick before getting blasted by a fiery bolt. Remembering the truck, Andy looked in its direction only to have his vision blocked by flames shooting up from the sizzling grass. He ran through the inferno straight towards Tyrone and Terry, hoping they hadn’t waited for him to get out of here.
When Andy reached the truck, he found it turned on its side and blasted beyond repair. Quickly registering that Tyrone and Terry could quite possibly be behind the truck, burning to death, he jumped over the flame on the roof of the overturned car. When his feet connected with the tires and he had a stable grip, he heard the siren of firetrucks and a deranged cry of “Upon insults I vow revenge!! Revenge!!”
Looking down at the carnage behind the truck, Andy saw two bodies collapsed on each other, looking more dead than alive. He called, and through the heat, the body on top, unrecognizable through the burns, slightly turned to face him. Andy thrust out his hand and yelled frantically to the top body “Terry, Tyrone, whoever you are, I’ll help you up! As soon as I get you, I’ll get the guy under you! I have to get your hand!”
Seeming to have heard Andy, the man on top lifted his arm slowly through the fire, trying to reach Andy. Andy extended his arm as far as it would go, scorching the skin on his palm and arm until it was disfigured with burns. All he knew was the driving will to reach his friend; the pain was drowned out completely. As his head burst with heat, Andy jumped off the collapsing truck knowing that he hadn’t reached. Terry and Tyrone were over, his best friends an ashed memory. There was nothing Andy could do besides sit, impotent, lying like a dead rat on the ground, as his friends lay, out of reach.
~~~
Andy looked at his arms, especially his right one, as his commanding officer Keyes ordered the batch of trainees to do another rep. Andy had healed quickly, the only physical memories vivid scars on his palm and right arm. Emotional memories lasted much longer. He hated the scars, but everyone said he should be happy that at least his arm wasn’t completely amputated.
“Another rep!” shouted officer Keyes amid mumbles and groans, “For that kind of an attitude, 5 more reps!”
After the fire, Andy could’ve gotten arrested, but his parents begged and pleaded for him to go to Florida State Fire and Recovery College, and Andy sullenly obliged. For 21 weeks now, Andy had been getting up early, working hard all day, then learning at night. It didn’t help to have periodic checks from the head officer, officer Rainsford, who was known to climb on trainees’ backs for any miniscule mistake. Every single time he came, he told the recruits his long and boring life story. He would start from when he was a kid and then explain when he got stranded on an island with a man-hunting maniac, how he got off the island, and how and why he took up fire safety. He would always tell about how he was so privileged to get off the island that he never wanted to hunt again. He decided to take up fire fighting because being a policeman, he might still have to shoot people. This way, he could get the adrenaline he used to get from hunting while saving people’s lives. Obviously, everyone could write a thousand page biography on his life easily by now.
Today, though was a special day. Officer Rainsford was coming to check for recruits to enter the actual fire fighting service in Orlando. Andy hoped his heart out that Rainsford wouldn’t choose him, because for him, fires just meant more memories of Tyrone and Terry. In fact, almost everything at the school reminded him of them in some way or another, from goofing around in classes to the lunch lady in the cafeteria. Even so, the cafeteria was probably Andy’s favorite part of his miserable day, when Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones would serve him up some school-food-slop and say, “Eat up, Andy! If you want to be a firefighter, you’ve gotta eat, com’on now!”
She was the kindest and most favored person in Andy’s miserable college experience, and her son Tim was actually one of Andy’s few friends. Mrs. Jones always said that all the guys were her “sons,” but it embarrassed her biological son Tim so much that she didn’t call them that as often anymore.
“Andy, quit your dreamin’, I said at attention!”
Officer Keyes woke Andy from his thoughts and brought him back to reality.
“Mr. Officer Sir Lieutenant Commander General Rainsford would like to speak to you!”
“Sorry, sir!”
Andy quickly turned to face officer Rainsford and stood at attention to him. “Andy, sir! Ready for orders, sir!”
“Andy, son, you have shown some pretty large potential. I would like to recruit you on the spot to the Orlando Fire Service Department. No papers, signing, or anything like that. I’ll take care of that. You just focus on fighting fire.”
“Sir, may I-”
“Yes, Andy, I know it is sudden, but we really could use your talent.”
“Yes, sir, I know, but I really-”
“Yes, I know. Want to get to it right away? They all do,” officer Rainsford laughed a deep, good-natured laugh, and then, “I’ll take you to the station right away.”
The fire station was bright red and bustling with people, but Andy had no time to take in his surroundings. As soon as he set foot into the building, he had to drop what he was carrying and suit up for a rescue.
At the scene of a towering office building, the fire was steaming hot. This is what Andy had trained those 21 weeks for. This is what Andy had been prepared for his whole life. Andy’s squadron was focusing on a man trapped behind a burning pickup. After they broke the initial flame wall, Andy’s section charged through. Andy didn’t know any of these guys or what they did as a team, so he would have to risk it solo. He rushed through, peering around through his smoke-mask for any sign of a pickup.
At last he spotted a smoldering alien-looking vehicle. He ran up to it and jumped on. For a split second, he doubted, seeing his scars and wondering if he was really cut out for this. But, just as soon, he looked down at the person behind the car. He was the same ethnicity and age as him. This was his redemption chance. Andy blurted out, “I am reaching for you. Sir, would you take my hand?”