Wheel of Fire

A pale stick figure of a girl shot across the dark street, matted hair flying, wild eyes glaring through the windshield of the cruiser. Officer Huerta swerved, slamming on the brakes. Kori felt the hideous thud in her bones. They swung open the doors and raced to the front of the car. Kori braced herself for the shock of her first dead body. No trace of the scrawny girl. Huerta squatted to look under the car. Nothing. “Did…did we hit her?” Kori heard the trembling in her own voice. “No.” Huerta rubbed her hand over her short, spikey hair. “I…don’t think so,” she added, in her light Spanish accent. “I felt the bump!” Huerta walked to the back of the cruiser. “Hell, this is your bump.” She kicked the right rear wheel, jammed against the curb, the tire deflated. “She was inches away! I thought for sure….” Kori took a deep, shuddering breath. “Get a grip, Kori. We’re all okay here.” “Yes, ma’am.” Kori hoped she hadn’t come off as panicky. As a high school senior in the Explorer program of the Goldhurst P. D., she was out to impress Officer Huerta, her mentor. Huerta radioed in to the station to say she’d be out of commission while she changed the tire. She popped the trunk, grabbed the jack, and swung the spare out with ease. She was a short Hispanic woman in her thirties, built like a barrel, solid and strong. Kori had seen her tussle and cuff a perp twice her size, while Kori had taken a step back, too timid to touch him. A sudden gust of cold wind rattled dead leaves in the deserted street. Kori jerked her head around, searching for the vanished girl. The liquor store, pawnshop, check-cashing center were closed, dimly-lit, bars on the windows. Across the street, the municipal park was cast in shadows. Kori ran her hand over the vehicle, feeling for dents, blood, torn flesh, dreading a discovery. Nothing. “I don’t believe it. She disappeared, like she sprouted wings.” “Crazy girl. Goes by the name Flicker. Grab those flares and set them out.” “Wait, you know her?” “Of her. Lives out there with Wheel of Fire.” “She does?” Kori stared at Huerta, jacking up the car. “With that bunch of old hippies? She didn’t look much older then me, and—“ “Kori! The flares!” “Yes, ma’am.” About a hundred feet behind the patrol car, Kori opened a flare, held the rod away from her body, and rubbed the button against the striking surface of the cap. The flame came to life with a sputter and then a spray of molten potassium nitrate. Kori bent to position the flare on the road, then lit three others, blazing a diagonal trail back to the disabled cruiser. She bent over Huerta, her hands shoved in her back jean pockets, feeling useless. She didn’t even know how to change a tire. “Need any help?” she asked tentatively. “Naw, I’m good.” Huerta shoved the spare in place and started tightening the bolts. “Just curious what Wheelers are doing in town, running around in the dark.” Kori had been just a little girl when the Church of Wheel of Fire had arrived in Tule Valley and built their commune, Promisedland, out in the country on Blue Ridge Road. Residents of Goldhurst got used to seeing Wheel members around town, shaggy and ragged, handing out their matchbooks and begging for donations. Kori’s dad would usually gave them a buck, telling her they would go hungry without it, but her mom pressed her lips firmly together and shook her head. “They have more money than they know what to do with,” she claimed. On dark, winter nights, when the Wheelers’ bonfires raged above the treetops and lit the sky for miles around, Kori would stand in the dirt road on her family’s pomegranate ranch and stare and stare, wondering what was going on around that roaring, crackling fire, until the bitter cold or images of Satan worshippers burning animal sacrifices caused her to shiver so violently, she sprinted for the house as if evil spirits were clawing at her heels. Kori rolled the damaged wheel to the rear of the cruiser and tried to hoist it into the open trunk. After her second try, Huerta nudged her aside, swung the wheel up and into the cavity with a swoop of a single, muscled arm. Kori rounded her shoulders, feeling like a wimp. Embarrassed, she asked, “What do they believe in, anyway?” Huerta wiped her hands on a rag and slammed the trunk. “Don’t know. They sure like fire. Isn’t that the devil’s home?” Kori rubbed her arms. Satan and stuff creeped her out. When she was little, her family went to church a couple of times, and this one minister preached, “Close your eyes and imagine the searing pain of hell fire and the stench of burning flesh forever and ever.” That scared the crap out of her, and she had to sleep in her parent’s room for weeks after. “Ma’am, do you believe…do you think there’s a hell?” “’Course there is, just like there’s eternal salvation.” Huerta pressed her fingertips against the gold cross, which she wore between her uniform shirt and bulletproof vest. Kori mouth went dry; she tried to swallow. “Do you think the Wheel worships the devil?“ Gunfire cracked. Huerta tackled Kori and shoved her around the bumper to the passenger side of the car. She unholstered her gun and raised her head to peek over the hood. Across the street, the bushes in the park rustled. “Get down!” Huerta grabbed the back of Kori’s jacket and yanked, causing her to fall on her butt, hitting the curb hard. Huerta talked into the radio fastened to her shoulder. She asked for back up, but after consulting several other cops, she got no results. Goldhurst was a small town, and the other officers were busy elsewhere. After several intense, silent moments, she put away her gun, duck-walked a few steps to the front passenger door, crawled over the seat and behind the wheel, then motioned Kori into the car. Huerta started the engine, cranked the wheel in a sharp U-turn, and sped off with a screech of the tires. “Pretty suspicious, all the units busy at once,” muttered Huerta. “Do you think they were trying to kill her?” Kori blurted. “Who trying to kill who?” “The Wheel trying to kill—what’s-her-name?—Flicker. That can’t be her real name. What’s her real name?” “I have no idea. Why would the Wheel want to kill one of their own?” “You saw how scared she was, running out in front of a car like that. Maybe she was trying to get away from some bloody Wheel ritual.” Huerta grinned, her bared teeth shining white in the dim cab. “Maybe she was trying to get away with something, like cash.” Kori didn’t like the idea of this Flicker being a common thief. “Like her freedom, I’ll bet. She was being held against her will and she escaped!” Huerta nodded, her finger on her chin, seemingly in deep thought. “Maybe she’s a human sacrifice. They give her a running start, then track her down and shoot her.” Kori’s mouth flew open as she clutched Huerta’s shoulder. “Oh, ma’am, do you think?” Huerta threw her head back and erupted with her croaky laugh. “Death by starvation, if you ask me. Skeleton girl needs something to eat.” Kori felt heat rise beneath her collar. Huerta didn’t mean any harm, but Kori felt humiliated when Huerta played her like that and she fell for it. “Chief Becker says they’ve got a whole arsenal of guns out there,” said Kori. “No law says they can’t. Law says they can.” “But you don’t think the shot had anything to do with that Wheel girl, Flicker? I know. It was probably the Ghouls and Freight Boyz fighting their meth war.” “We don’t know nothing yet. How many times do I got to tell you? You gotta have proof.” “Yes, ma’am.”