Jamie walked into his apartment and headed straight for his bedroom. He couldn't remember when he'd been so tired. He pulled off his work clothes and tossed them onto a chair, then pulled down the shades to keep the sun out and the room as dark as possible. Lighting a single candle, he fell into his bed and lay flat.
He stared at the ceiling and watched the flicker of fire from the candle dancing across it. Closing his eyes, he drew deep breaths to center his mind. While he had enjoyed his immolation of the Reverend Phillips immensely, his impulsive behavior had been a mistake. He hadn't given his body enough time to regain its strength or his mind enough time to restore his balance. Now he was paying the price.
He needed to lay low and allow his stamina to return. It wasn't as if he was in any danger of being caught before he finished his summer plans. The cops were showing themselves to be the idiots they always were. They were running around in circles and didn’t have the first clue how to stop the fires that would soon destroy their city.
On one level, Jamie couldn't help but wish he had an adversary who was worthy of him. Surely one of the cops should be smart enough to actually take him on. It would make the whole experience more enjoyable.
But he knew it was just as well the police weren't up to the challenge. He didn't need any distractions or nuisances to stand in the way of Fairbanks getting what it deserved.
In a few weeks, he'd be ready to start giving his fellow Fairbanks residents more glimpses of their future. And by August, he'd burn their city to the ground.
****
July 4, 2013
Independence Day was traditionally a fun affair in Fairbanks and a high point of the all too short summer season. But unlike the parties held in the majority of US cities, Fairbanks’ celebration did not include fireworks. Since the sun would not set until 12:30 in the morning and twilight lingered until the sun reappeared three hours later, the Fairbanks’ summer skies were never dark enough to accommodate fireworks.
Instead, Fairbanks residents saved their fireworks for the winter, when darkness blanketed their city and they were lucky to see three or four hours of daylight in a 24-hour period. The city regularly set off fireworks each December 31 to help ring in another new year.
But the residents enjoyed the same picnics and parades that marked the Fourth in communities throughout the Lower 48. And in spite of the record-breaking heat that had tormented them all summer and showed no signs of ebbing as Fourth of July rolled around, they were determined to enjoy a traditional Independence Day. In Fairbanks, that meant heading to Pioneer Park.
The start of the new month had brought a sense of relief throughout the city, as nearly two weeks had passed since there had been any sign of the horrifying fires that had claimed three lives at the start of the summer. Residents were all too willing to put the fires in the past in spite of the fact that the arsonist responsible had not been found.
Many convinced themselves that the fires had been some sort of crazy fluke, bizarre coincidences that had been brought on by the unrelenting heat. The heat was an anomaly in Alaska, something most in Fairbanks had never felt, so who was to say what problems it could cause? Brush fires could have been behind the two deaths in the park, some said. Others pointed out that an air conditioner that had rarely been used could easily have overheated and started the church fire that had killed the reverend.
No matter how implausible these explanations were, frightened and tired people could convince themselves of anything when all they wanted to do was move on with their lives. Fairbanks needed to get back to normal and there was no better time than the Fourth of July for that to happen.
And so, residents beleaguered from fear and frustrated by heat headed to Pioneer Park for the annual Independence Day celebration. Pioneer Park was more than just a city park; it was also a homage to both the city’s and the state of Alaska’s history. Gold Rush town featured many restored buildings from Fairbanks’ founding era, including the city’s first church, and Pioneer Hall housed a museum featuring many artifacts from the Gold Rush years. Children loved climbing on board the SS Nenana, a sternwheeler that once sailed the Chena River. A highlight of any trip to the park was a visit to the Alaska Native village. In addition to these attractions, the park was also home to a theater and art gallery.
The park’s schedule for July Fourth was packed with events, including performances by the United States Army Alaska Warrior Band and the Fairbanks Community Band, as well as gospel and folk singers from the area. The high point of the day was the kids’ parade through the park. As the children waited for their chance to march in the parade, they were entertained with games, roving clowns and a booth for face painting.
A young girl barely managing to sit still while getting her face painted was the first to see the smoke coming from the Frontier Saloon in Gold Rush town. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping that when she opened them the smoke would be gone. Instead, she opened her eyes and saw flames licking the corner of the old saloon.
She turned to her father, causing the painter to brush a line of red pain beyond her face into her blond hair. The girl pointed towards the saloon and both her father and the painter followed her finger with their eyes. The painter dropped her bowl of bright yellow paint and screamed.
****
July 20, 2013
“You think he’ll hit again here?” Danny asked his partner Tessa, who was beside him as they paced the block surrounding the Carlson Center on the banks of the Chena River.
“I can’t imagine he’d pass it up. This is the biggest celebration of the summer. It seems like he wouldn’t be able to resist wreaking more havoc and scaring the hell out of folks.”
“You mean scaring them more than he already has? It looks to me like most people were afraid to even come out for the parade today. Take the cops out of this crowd and there might be ten people here; if that.”
Tessa sighed. “I don’t think it’s quite that bad but you’re right, the crowd is nothing like it’s been in the past. And that’s a damn shame. Golden Days has always been a lot of fun for people here. One more big party before the summer starts slipping away from us.”
The Golden Days celebration was held each year to celebrate Fairbanks’ past and to commemorate the discovery of gold in a nearby creek by a man named Felix Pedro on July 22, 1902. Pedro’s find set off the gold rush that led to the incorporation of the city in 1903.
The first celebration was held in 1952 and had now grown to include a street fair, comedy night, a rubber-duckie race and, the traditional highlight of the festival, the parade. It was billed as the largest in all Alaska. Filled with floats, marching bands, baton twirlers, clowns, and antique cars, the parade began at the Carlson Center and wound its way through downtown, ending up at the intersection of Noble and Airport Way. With the tagline “The Gold & The Beautiful,” Golden Days was a fun-filled week giving residents the chance to celebrate the pride they felt for both their city and their state.
Danny knew Tessa was right. The arsonist, who had struck again on July 4 and burned down most of the historic Gold Rush Town in Pioneer Park, would not miss a chance to leave his mark on the cherished Golden Days celebration. He may even be disappointed that no one had been killed in his Pioneer Park fire and want to remedy that by adding to his body count today.
While the residents of Fairbanks had done their best to put on a brave face and carry on with their lives as the arsonist struck again and again over the summer, the incident at Pioneer Park had left them shaken to the core. City officials had done their best to persuade residents that all manner of precautions were being taken to insure a safe and fun Golden Days celebration, with the Fairbanks police and fire departments standing on guard and ready at all scheduled events, but it was clear from the size of the crowd gathered to watch the parade that those assurances had fallen on deaf ears. Most of Fairbanks had chosen to stay home.
“I’m actually glad it’s a small crowd,” Danny said. “That might make it easier for us to spot this asshole if he shows up.”
“True enough.”
Tessa turned to her right as the music started to play and the first band marched past the Carlson Center. The majorettes in front forced themselves to smile broadly in a failed effort to mask the fear that was evident on their faces. The two detectives scanned the sidewalks and few revelers who clapped in support of the band, but saw nothing unusual.
“I don’t even know who or what to look for,” Tessa said. “I don’t think our guy will do us the favor of showing up with a lighted torch or a flamethrower.”
“If only,” Danny said.
The parade continued and both the crowd and the participants started to relax and enjoy themselves as the clowns, mini-cars and go-karts passed by and the Fairbanks high school floats made their entrance.
“Maybe he’s not going to show up,” Tessa said.
Before Danny could respond, a scream pierced the festive atmosphere.
“Fire!”
Danny and Tessa ran towards the sound of the scream, joined by other officers who were covering their stretch of the parade route. By now, others were yelling and pointing towards the lot of the Carlson Center, where flames were spreading among the parked cars. The fire crews on the scene immediately sprang into action, honking their horns to move the shocked and panicked parade-goers out of the way of their trucks.
“Which one of you yelled first?” Danny asked as he and Tessa ran up to a group of parade goers, some stunned into silence, others crying and sobbing hysterically.
A petite blond woman held up her hand. “I did,” she said, fighting back tears. “I saw one of the cars start on fire.”
“Did you see anyone by the car? Was there anyone inside?”
“No. I just glanced over there because my husband was supposed to be joining me here and I wondered if he would still be able to find a place to park. It happened so quickly. One second the car was parked there and the next it just burst into flames.”
“Christ Almighty who is doing this?” a man standing next to the woman yelled. “What are you cops doing? Can’t you stop this?”
“Sir, we understand you’re upset,” Tessa said. “We all are. But right now we need everyone to remain calm so we can talk to all of you about what you may or may not have seen. We all want this to stop.”
A siren announced the arrival of another fire crew to battle the fire, which had now spread to more than a dozen cars in the lot and threatened to reach the building. Danny and Tessa looked at each other as they ushered the witnesses out of the path of the approaching truck. It was going to be another long day.
****
Jamie relaxed his yoga pose and leaned back against the bottom of his couch. He smiled as he imagined the scene at the Carlson Center right at this moment; the clueless police officers and detectives scampering around interviewing witnesses, the firefighters putting out the fire before it engulfed more cars. Even the media would be arriving en masse and fighting to secure the most advantageous position from which to report the latest fire. Jamie wished he could be there. But his imagination was a fine substitute.
He had enjoyed perfecting his skill by setting today’s fire and the fire at Pioneer Park. This activity didn’t require nearly as much stamina and concentration as his in-person efforts did. And he now knew he could set a fire anywhere in the city, whether he was there himself or not. Best of all, it had been fun to frighten the city’s residents just as they were being lulled into a false sense of security.
In spite of the energy it took to set these fires, Jamie felt rested and he knew his full strength and power had returned. His midsummer games had been akin to the middle of a play. Now he was ready for the climax.
****
July 23, 2013
“How about if I stand here, Bob?” Jennifer Higgins asked. “Is this okay?”
“That’s fine,” her cameraman Bob Spencer said. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Jennifer positioned herself in front of the closed building that had once been the New Church of God before Richard Phillips was so brutally killed less than a month earlier. The investigation into the death of Phillips, along with the deaths of Nick Torrance and Max Fugate earlier in the summer, had stalled while non-fatal fires at Pioneer Park and the Carlson Center had set the city on edge. Jennifer felt it was time to light a fire under the Fairbanks police department. Whatever was going on, the people of Fairbanks deserved to know what those getting paid to protect them were doing to find the arsonist who was terrifying the city and burning people alive.
Like many of the streets in Fairbanks, the street where the New Church of God had once stood was deserted. City residents were staying indoors as much as possible, hoping that they would at least be safe from fire inside their own homes. Jennifer could understand the sentiment. She hated coming outside now herself but she wasn’t about to let some pyromaniac keep her from doing her job.
Jennifer composed her face and prepared to deliver her segment with a solemn and appropriately concerned expression. She knew the evening anchorman Jason Griffey would be introducing her when the news aired.
“Thank you and good evening, Jason,” she said, staring into the camera. “Although I can’t say I have much good news to report.”
Bob stood in for Jason and fed her the line the anchorman would be reading that evening.
“People around Fairbanks are more worried than ever about the fire murders, Jennifer. What is the latest on the police investigation?”
Jennifer started to answer when a movement behind the cameraman distracted her. She saw the figure of a man in shadow coming up behind Bob. The figure vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Did you hear someone behind you?” she asked.
Bob glanced around at the street behind him. “No.”
“I saw someone, just for a second. I thought he was going to get in the way of our shot.”
“Well there’s nobody here now. Maybe you just imagined it.” Bob turned his eyes towards the boiling mid-afternoon sun. “This damn sun will play tricks on anyone’s eyes. Never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait for winter.”
Jennifer nodded but felt a chill maneuvering up her spine. She knew she hadn’t imagined anything. Someone, or something, had been there.
“She didn’t imagine it,” a male voice said.
Jennifer jumped and looked to her right in the direction of the voice. “Who said that? Bob?”
The cameraman shook his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Did you hear it? Hear him?”
“I did.”
“Of course you heard me. I’m standing right beside you.”
Jennifer took a few steps backwards. She had felt hot breath on her neck as she heard the words.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Where are you?”
“I’m right here, next to you.”
“Bob, what the hell is going on?”
The cameraman remained silent and stood stock still as he stared at Jennifer in disbelief. He heard the man’s voice talking to her, but saw no one beside her. He looked around and couldn’t see a single soul anywhere else on the sidewalk. He set his camera down on the ground so his shaking hands would not drop it.
The disembodied voice suddenly boomed across the sidewalk, causing both Bob and Jennifer to jump. “YA zaklykayu BEELZEBUTH~, LUCIFER~,” the unseen man said. “MADILON…”
“What?” Jennifer asked. “What are you saying? Where are you?”
“SOLYMO~, SAROY ~, Vizyt!”
“What are you saying?!” Jennifer yelled. She felt heat coming from her feet and looked down to see flames shooting out from the toes of her shoes. “Oh my God! No, no! Bob, help!”
Jennifer stamped her feet to try to put out the flames, but the fire merely traveled up her legs and began to lick at her torso.
“Pozhezha!” the man yelled. “Spalyuvaty!”
“Bob!” Jennifer screamed.
Bob stood frozen in terror as the fire exploded around Jennifer. Finding his courage, he ran towards her, only to have the heat of the flames slam him backwards into the ground. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and dialed 911.
“Help!” Jennifer yelled, her voice overcome with agony. “Someone help me please!”
“We need help here!” Bob yelled when a woman answered his call. “There’s a fire, please help us. Please!”
“Where are you, sir?”
“The New Church of God. Jennifer’s burning. Oh my God please help us!”
Bob leapt back as a flame shot out and burned his fingers. He dropped his phone in the flames, which now totally engulfed his colleague. Jennifer was no longer visible in the inferno.
He gaped in terror as the voice took on the form of a man. A shadowy figure stood there just as Jennifer had described.
“Pozhezha! Spalyuvaty!” the figure yelled.
Tears rolled down Bob’s face as he watched Jennifer’s body crumple to the sidewalk. She no longer screamed. He heard the man’s voice again, much softer this time.
“Stiy,” he said.
As quickly as it had started, the fire died down and the flames disappeared. Smoke rose from the charred corpse that just moments before had been the living and breathing Jennifer Higgins.
Bob heard the sirens of the fire department coming towards him. The shadowy figure was gone.
****