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1
I pulled my Jeep to the side of the road, gazing silently at the majestic panoramic view spread out before me. It had been years since I'd been in this part of the country, much less in the autumn. The setting sun seemed to set the vibrant foliage ablaze.
Ablaze. What a painful word.
I remembered waking up, coughing and gasping. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.
"Danny!" came my father's voice and the door burst open. Bright flickering light silhouetted the figure in the doorway.
"Daddy!" I cried, fear gripping my chest.
He rushed in, sweeping me up into his arms, wrapping my blanket around me. He carried me out into the hallway, into the inferno. The sounds of men shouting was blurred by the crackling roar as he staggered to the stairway.
"Over here!" came a voice, from downstairs. I could hear my father struggling to breathe as he clambered down the stairs. He stopped, then I felt his body tense. With a shout he jumped forward, wrapping himself about me.
Then we were falling, landing heavily. I shrieked as I felt the flames eating through the the blanket, searing my body.
The burning fabric was pulled away from my face, revealing a chaos of smoke and flame. Strong arms plucked me from my father's limp embrace.
"Get the kid out," cried a masked and heavily cloaked figure. "I'll get the father."
I was carried through the burning wreckage of our home, outside to where more men were aiming hoses at the burning building.
There came a rumble and I squinted back through a haze of pain to see the second story begin to crumble down.
"Paul!" the man carrying me cried, then a huge figure leaped through the doorway, carrying a limp form, burning timbers crashing down behind him.
I caught glimpses of men running, my mother, staring in shock, her hands clasped over her face.
"Get them over here!" someone called.
I was carried to a stretcher and laid down on it. I whimpered in pain as charred bits of melted fabric was pulled from my flesh.
I looked up through teary eyes as the big man pulled off his mask and helmet, revealing sweaty red hair plastered to his face, bright greens eyes flickering in concern.
"Don't worry, boyo. They'll take good care of you."
"Rick?" said another fireman, his heavy 5 o'clock shadow doing nothing to hide the sadness in his dark eyes.
This Rick looked up at the other man, then closed his eyes tightly.
"These guys are going to be taking you to the hospital," he said gently, gesturing someone closer.
They put a mask over my face and soon everything faded away.
Some time later, I woke up, my skin feeling hot and tight. I hurt. Bad. I was in a strange room with bandages limiting my vision. Somewhere nearby, I could hear a woman crying. Strange beeps and clicks filled the silence between her sobs.
There came a knock and the sound of a door opening.
"Mrs. O'Malley?" came a deep voice. "I'm Lt. Nicholson and this is my son, Paul."
"You're the ones who...," my mother began, ending in a sob.
"How's he doing?" he said. Something about his voice was familiar.
"He was badly burned," she said softly. "They don't know how bad the scarring will be."
"Have...have you told him?" he said hesitantly..
"They've been keeping him pretty heavily sedated. He hasn't woken up yet."
"Mommy," I rasped, my voice sounding odd to myself.
"Danny," she cried, coming into my view. Her eyes were red and puffy.
"What...what happened?" I said weakly.
She looked aside hesitantly and a red headed man moved beside her.
Something about him made my tummy feel funny.
"There's the brave lad," he said, his emerald eyes sorrowful. "How're you feeling?"
"Hurts," I whispered.
"We brought you something," he said, turning his head. The dark haired fireman stepped up to the bed. He held out a stuffed bear in a fireman's uniform.
I reached out for it, realizing my hands were wrapped in bandages. I took it clumsily and held it tightly.
"Thank you," I said softly. "Can I...can I call him Rick?"
He smiled broadly at me.
"I think that'd be fine."
It was rough growing up like that. Without a father. Looking the way I do.
Don't get me wrong. I was lucky I was still...intact. I had the use of my arms and legs. All I had to deal with was the way people would stare at me. I know what I look like.
I found it was better to keep my head shaved. The patches where my head had been burned didn't grow hair, so if I didn't, it looked like I had the mange. Of course, that just left the scars more visible.
It didn't help that Mom and I moved around a lot. But every time we moved, that little bear kept me company at night. All too often, he was my only friend. The way I looked scared kids away.
Well, most kids.
We had lived in this area for a few years. There was a family who had a summer home here and Mom took care of the house for them. They had two children, a girl and a boy. She was a little younger than me, and he was a few years younger still. But they were both friendly to me. Curious, yet not intrusive. Sympathetic, yet not embarrassingly so.
Mostly, they treated me as if I were...normal.
Carla used to make cookies for me. I'd eat a few while she watched, but as soon as she'd leave, I'd bury them. She was a sweet girl with curly blond hair and light green eyes, but she couldn't cook.
Brian was practically her opposite, dark haired and dark eyed. We became great friends. Nearly inseparable. The two of us would spend our days in the woods in which their house was set, fighting monsters, or pirates, if we played on the lake.
And he was so cute. He'd look at me out of the corner of his eye and smile broadly. I'd feel like I did when that fireman had looked into my eyes.
Then he'd blush and turn away.
Those were the happiest times of my life, but like all things, they had to end.
I came home from school one day to find mom packing. I could tell she was upset about something, but she would never tell me what happened. They had just left to go back to their city home when we left. I didn't even get a chance to tell him goodbye.
After I graduated, I enlisted in the Marines. That was at least one place where they didn't care what you looked like.
Not to say I wasn't given shit. I was, but not any more than anyone else was.
Then came 9/11....
I was in one of the first waves to hit Afghanistan. During my first deployment, I found there were worse scars than mine. Many that were less visible, too.
Nearing the end of my third deployment, I got word that my mother's health had taken a turn for the worse. By the time I was able to get home, I barely had time to say goodbye. I had seen buddies blown to bits by IEDs, friends gunned down beside me. But this was the one I couldn't deal with.
When I was going through her stuff, I came across that teddy bear. She had kept it after I had joined the military. I wondered whatever happened to that fireman. I understood now why he made me feel the way I did. Of course, I couldn't tell anyone, even if they did ask.
When given the choice, I opted to not reenlist. But I didn't really have anywhere to go.
Somehow, I found myself back here, where I had been happiest. I don't know why. I don't know what I was looking for. Don't even know for sure if I had found the right spot.
I pulled my Jeep off the road, driving through an open field to the edge of the woods. I pulled my camping gear out and struck out into the woods. The trees were bigger than I remembered, but then, it had been over twenty years after all.
Before the sun completely set, I found a clearing. I set up the tent and got a small fire started.
The sounds of the woods had died in my passage, but they slowly returned, making me relax. The brisk night air was a far cry from the arid desert breeze I had become accustomed to.
I fixed a quick meal, then sat looking up at the stars, remembering....
"That's Orion, the Hunter," the young boy said, pointing into the sky. "See those three stars almost in a line? That's his belt."
I stepped closer to him so I could look up his arm.
"I see it," I said softly, feeling the heat from his body. He gave me that look, then blushed as usual. Under his direction the constellations began to take shape. "How do you know so much?"
"Dunno," he shrugged, his shoulder brushing against mine. "Might have something to do with having started lessons when I was three."
It was hard to remember how young he actually was. He was well developed for his age and it didn't help when he would open his mouth and start riffing on Socrates. I'm afraid I couldn't follow a lot of what he said when he'd get like that, but he was so animated when he did. I just liked hearing him talk to me.
"Orion," I said softly, picking it out.
I wondered where he was. What he was doing. It had been nearly twenty years since I'd seen him. Don't know if I'd even recognize him now.
"Of course, not hard to recognize me," I thought, touching my scarred face.
Finally, I banked the fire and slipped into my sleeping bag. As I settled down, I reached out and pulled my teddy bear to me.
"Good night, Rick," I said softly and kissed its nose.
The hulking bear of a man smiled down at me. A thick red beard framed his sensuous lips, long hair falling into eyes that shone like emeralds. He reached out his hand and clasped mine, pulling me towards him. His fur tickled my palm as I caressed his bare chest.
His beard tickled me as he kissed my neck. My hands roamed down his furry back to squeeze his round ass. I could feel his dick leaking onto my hip as he ground himself against me.
He slowly dropped down, exploring my body with his hands and mouth. As he knelt in front of me, he looked up at me, flicking his tongue out to tease my hooded head. He gripped my shaft in his big paw, pulling the skin back, taking me into his mouth.
I grabbed two handfuls of his hair, crying out in ecstasy.
And I came suddenly awake, the morning sun blinding me even as I realized my boxers were a sticky mess.
I was beginning to think about breakfast when a pounding broke the stillness. My head jerked up looking around nervously. It sounded like someone hammering.
I moved hesitantly through the woods. Who could be building something out here? I know the family Mom used to work for owned all this land. Maybe I was in the wrong place.
No. This was the same place. I came upon the bluff we used to climb to look over the trees. The hammering was coming from somewhere down there. I could almost see something in the trees below, but I didn't have my binoculars with me. I grabbed a tree branch and carelessly leaned over the edge, trying to get a better view.
With a resounding crack, the branch snapped, sending me tumbling down the rock face. A branch caught at me and I grunted as I flipped around it and landed heavily.
I blinked away the darkness that threatened to swallow me. Every shallow breath I took sent pain shooting through my body. I could hear footsteps approaching at a run and the morning sun was suddenly blocked out.
He was a big man, his body aglow in the light. Even on this brisk autumn morning, he was shirtless, sweat already matting his rust colored fur. Red hair was tied back and a thick beard reached down his chest.
"Rick?" I rasped, wondering how hard I'd hit my head.
He rocked back for a second, then knelt down beside me.
"Sorry, but no," he said with an amused chuckle.
My vision was beginning to darken and worry crossed his face.
"My name is Jim," he was saying as my consciousness fell away.