ds_flashfiction | To Light A Fire

Sneaking in just after the technical deadline.... (As Douglas Adams used to say, I love the whooshy noise they make as they go speeding by.)

To Light A Fire
"For want of a flashlight, the flatfoot was lost."

Ray's voice echoed from further away than Ben expected. "Ray!" he said. "Be careful! There could be holes in the floor!"

"I'm being careful, Frase," Ray said. "Hands and knees, feeling my way along… that damned flashlight has to be here somewhere."

"Don't get too far!" Ben cringed inwardly at how needy he sounded. Atavistic fear, he thought. But this isn't blindness, it's just the absence of light. That should be more comforting. They might be down a mine without illumination, but it wasn't a permanent condition, and it wasn't as though the disappearance of two officers of the law would go unnoticed. They'd find Ray's car, and bring trackers (Surely they have scent trackers in America, right?) to follow their scent to the mine entrance and down in it. Ray and he had only to sit tight and help would arrive… eventually.

Ben leaned back against the solid, clammy stone wall of the mine and tried to see in his mind's eye how they'd been standing when the sudden flood of water had come rushing down the corridor. He'd known immediately they were in mortal danger and had pushed Ray towards a side corridor that sloped upwards. Ray had stumbled and dropped his flashlight, but it had been too dangerous to stop, and he still had his… until after some hasty retreating, he'd gone sprawling, knocking himself out and the flashlight to hell and gone.

"Ray?" Ben said, hating how querulous his voice sounded. Just because his head was splitting with a monstrous headache, he was terrified of the dark they were in, and Ray wasn't at his side… that wasn't sufficient reason to give in to fear, was it?

"Frase?" Ray's voice was a bit closer, and he could hear his partner crawling on the gritty rock floor. "Speak to me, Fraser, I need to hear where you are."

"Right here, Ray," Ben said. "I haven't moved."

"Yeah, I get that," Ray said. "But it's like… I dunno, radar. I can aim if I hear you."

"That's precisely how sonar works, Ray," Fraser said. "Using noise as the directional indicator… as long as I'm careful not to excite echoes, you should be able to come straight to me."

"Keep going," Ray said. "You gotta keep it up, hear?"

"Ah…." It took Ben just a second to think of something. "The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain."

"'By George, I think he's got it,'" Ray quipped, which made Ben smile. He shook his head, even if moving that slightly brought on more pain.

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers," Ben said, and then Ray was close, his hand touching Ben's leg, jerking away and coming back.

"That you, Frase?"

"None other," Ben said.

"I need a rest," Ray said. "How are you doing?" Ben felt him cautiously move to the side, up against the wall next to him. "This crawling is hell on the knees… if I'd known, I'd have worn my diamond-encrusted kneepads today."

"Well enough," Ben said. "It's just the sitting here, doing nothing." It surprised him deeply to hear his voice crack on that… he would have sworn that he was utterly calm, but suddenly he was aware of just how frightened he was. "I – Ray – I—" he stumbled.

Ray's hand was on his arm, tracing down it and taking Ben's hand between his two. "Hey, steady, buddy," he said. "How is the head?"

Ben took a deep breath, Ray's hands squeezed his. In his mind's eye he could see those elegant long fingers caressing his blunter ones and he felt the callused roughness of Ray's skin against his. "The headache is no worse than it was earlier, maybe less."

"That's good," Ray said. "I wish to hell I could look at your eyes." Ray's hands hadn’t left his. "I mean… check to see your brain's doing okay."

"Even if you could check, we couldn't do anything about it," Ben said. "At any rate, I'm fairly hard-pated."

"I could hear the crack when you hit," Ray said. "Damn flashlight went flipping around, bounced at least twice before it went out… it should be within easy reach, you would think. I have to be able to find it."

"You will," Ben said. "I have faith in you." And he realized that he did. I trust him with my life, he thought. It was a comforting thought. "I hope you can forgive me," Ben said.

"What for?" Ray's voice was amused, slightly challenging. "For dropping the flashlight? When you'd just saved my life, I'm going to get all upset because you tripped by accident on an uneven floor? When I dropped my flashlight first?"

"Now that you put it that way…." Ben said. Ray's fingers squeezed his again. "I'm lucky to have you," he added. "Have I ever told you that?"

"Didn't have to," Ray said.

"Well, then."

"Not that I don't like hearing it," Ray said – Ben could hear the smile. "When I got you with me, it's like having the Swiss Army to back me up."

"Ah… with their famous knives," Ben said. "If only we hadn't lost the pack – the matches, the candles, the sandwiches—"

"—and the chocolate bars," Ray added. "Well, I'll just have to wait on that one. Roughing it. I hate roughing it."

"Redundant supplies," Ben said. "If I'd worn my uniform, we'd at least have the matches."

"For want of a match," said Ray. "I should scare you up two sticks, you could rub them together. That is, if I could find two sticks."

"It's far more complicated than just rubbing sticks, Ray," Ben said. Sometimes it was comforting to switch into lecture mode. "They have to be shaped, and the friction needed has to be intense… it's not as easy as it sounds. You're better off with flint and steel, though that has its drawbacks as well."

"That's like, striking sparks, right?" Ray said. "Does it have to be flint?"

Ben knew he was being subtly patronized – Ray wanted him calm and collected. "Flint is best, but other hard rocks can be used… and yes, the steel has to be steel, hard enough to stand up to repeated blows – say an ordinary pocket knife." Like I have in my pocket.

Ben caught his breath.

"What is it?" Ray said.

"I think—yes, I think I have a plan," Ben said, as hope bloomed, despite his headache, despite the seriousness of their predicament, despite the damnable darkness that they sat in. "Light a single candle," he said, trying not to giggle.

"You've got a candle?"

"Not quite… and it depends on having some paper – dry paper," Ben said. "My notepad was in the damned backpack that is doubtless swept away with the flood… what about yours?"

"Huh," Ray said. Ben felt him remove a hand from their clasp and could hear him shift to get at the pocket inside his jacket. "It's right here," he said. "Dry as a bone, too."

"We may be in business," Ben said. "I'll need to borrow as much as you can spare," he added.

"You can have the whole thing," Ray said, "if it gets us out of there."

"It's your official record of the investigation," said Ben. "It would be better to just use the unwritten pages, if we can."

"Okay, here's a break – I just started a new one yesterday. And the only notes I made in it were the address of this mine. So I think it's safe to tear the whole thing up if we need it."

"We may," Ben said. "We can't count on getting any more fuel than the paper, and perhaps some of our clothing."

"Holy shit!" Ray said. "You can really light a fire with my notebook?"

"I think I can," Ben said. "It may not burn long, but it should shed enough light for us to find the flashlight."

"Bring it on," said Ray. "What do I have to do?"

Ben directed him to shred up several pages and put them onto a clean level place on the corridor floor – other pages he was to roll into cylinders. ("Because we can light them like matches off one another – you see why this won't last long.")

Meanwhile, Ben felt around them for suitable "flints" or at least rocks that were passably hard, and could be chipped or split into sharp edges. To be busy, it was a blessing he thought -- he had rarely appreciated it as much as now, in the darkness.

"How you doing, Fraser?" Ray said.

"I'm ready, I think," Ben said, taking out his pocketknife. "My Scouting was not for naught, I am prepared."

"This works, I'm buying you a bushel of lighters, you can stow one in the pocket of each pair of pants," Ray said.

Ben settled himself into a kneeling position before the tinder. "It's right here," he said, feeling over for Ray's hand – found Ray's knee, and then Ray's hand found his. He guided Ray's hand over to the prepared depression. "You'll be able to see the sparks, at least… one small bonus to the darkness."

"One bonus, ten thousand drawbacks," Ray said, the smile back in his voice.

"We'll count it as one," Ben said, and bent to his task, locating the paper tinder again by touch and bringing the improvised flint and steel close. His first tap was tentative, to get the feel of his instruments. He'd done this before, even if it had been years the feel hadn't gone away entirely… and he'd been so much younger and more scared the first time, his hands shaking with cold.

This, by contrast, should be easy. "Easy." Ben brought the steel down hard, and then harder, getting sparks at last. I may need to sharpen that edge more…. Well, he'd try harder still, rather than pound out another "flint" and then get himself reoriented. It wasn't that hard to modify his technique, so that larger and larger sparks flew. He worked closer to the tinder, grateful that the absolute darkness made it easy to see if the sparks landed and showed the slightest sign of catching – he hadn't long to wait, before one glowed briefly… and went out.

"Was that–?" Ray said, startling Ben. He'd concentrated so hard that he'd forgotten all but the task.

"Yes," said Ben. "Not as good as I might like. I think I have to try another rock."

This time Ben deliberated harder over his choice of rock. He wished again for his eyes, to help him judge the best candidate – harder was better, but aside from banging them together to chip a sharp edge, and then judging which was the harder thereby, he could find no other way.

"My turn to wait, huh?" Ray sounded forlorn.

"'They also serve who sit and wait,'" Ben said. "And it isn't as if you haven't done your best while I held my head." And I'd best to make this work…. He did not voice his doubt to his friend, to give it more life than it deserved.

Finally satisfied with the sharpest edge yet, Ben turned back to the tinder. Without a char to catch the spark, there would be numerous failures before success came – he needed almost a Zen state of clarity.

He wasn't sure how many times he struck the flint, only to see the spark go astray, burn out in mid-air, die on the tinder, but at last a spark landed and held, and he smelled the hard stink of smoke. Light, oh, light! he urged it, and bent so his mouth was close to the paper and breathed gently lest he blow it out, just enough to breathe life into it.

And this time, the magic happened – it was magic every time it happened, Ben felt, since the first cave man figured out the trick. The spark turned into an ember, the ember grew, he breathed again and suddenly there was a small flame, smoke nearly obscuring it. Ben scuffed more of the torn paper to its edges, worried he would overwhelm and suffocate it, equally worried that he would feed it too much and use up all his fuel.

"Ray, the rolled paper," he said, looking up, seeing Ray's face lit by the small fire, saw the wolfish smile bloom on his friend's face.

"Knew you could do it, Frase," said Ray, as Ben lit the first of the improvised matches. There was still much to do – they would have to search out the flashlight, or see if they could improvise some other fuel – but the first step in conquering the darkness had been achieved.

end

about 2100 words.

Technical Note
A char is carbonized paper or fabric, which has been, er, pre-burned, so that when the sparks land on it, they don't have to spend as much energy making the chemical changes that make ignition possible. Most people who prepare themselves to go out and use flint and steel to start a fire bring some char in a water-proof container. It is much more difficult to start a fire without a char, but then Fraser really is Mr. Improbable.