Wildfire Avenged

By Yolande Schmidt

After completing my bachelor's degree in disaster management, I knew everything was about to change. No longer was I going to be a waitress at the yacht club. I was going to be rich, independent, and successful. My mediocre life was about to end. Driving to my parents' house, I recited a short speech I had prepared to thank them for their support. I've seen that expression in their eyes before. They were glowing with pride. Sitting at the table, I watched as my dad opened the bottle of champagne. I knew what this meant. My parents were going to surprise me with a car. I couldn't wait. I wondered if they remembered what color I liked. The cork flew off like my former troubles. Dad cleared his throat as he made the announcement. Mom was pregnant! Wildfire Avenged takes the reader on a journey through the life of a newly graduated twenty-four-year-old. Paying for her own studies and determined to build her career, her life takes a drastic change. For the worst. Trusting the wrong people and fellow-shipping with peculiar characters, she finds herself in a desperate endeavor to solve her own troubles, only to watch it become a life-threatening disaster. Brace yourself for the journey of unexpected resolutions, hilarious twists, and ultimately the best laughter in a lifetime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644710548

Book preview

Chapter 1

Two weeks after my twenty-fourth birthday, I stood at the stairs leading to the stage, waiting for my name to be called.

I looked up, searching for my parents from between the faces in the crowd.

My mother’s purple dress and red lips was instantly visible. Next to her was my dad who took the opportunity to wolf-whistle, momentarily forgetting that he was at his daughter’s graduation and not a rock concert.

The student in front of me raised his eyebrows and shot a compelling look at me. I raised mine too, imitating agreement.

He will never know.

As soon as the audience quietened down, the chancellor looked over at our group and flashed a comforting smile.

Adjusting the microphone, he instructed us to move closer.

A flutter of nerves arose in my stomach when I finally heard the words Bachelor of Arts in Disaster Management over the loudspeaker.

The course I’ve spent six years diligently pursuing suddenly rang foreign in my own ears.

Awaiting our names to be called, we pranced next to the steps in front of the stage in nervous excitement.

One by one the graduates made their way up the podium like a string of ants toward a decomposing moth.

I watched in anticipation as each student took their time to shake hands and smile for a picture while receiving their certificate.

My name echoed over the speaker, and I felt electrified as I floated across the stage toward the outstretched hands.

The onlookers clapped.

Another wolf whistle reverberated over the applause.

This time around I disregarded the audience and concentrated on walking across the stage without falling on my face.

Stretching my hand out to the numerous strangers, I shook each hand eagerly as I acquired my certificate and smiled broadly at the photographer.

The anxiety instantly turned into euphoric relief.

The late-night studies after grueling morning shifts waitressing finally paid off.

The next name was called, and I clutched my certificate firmly between my clammy fingers as I made my way down the steps off the stage.

Smiling content, I knew every aspect of my life was about to change.

I wasn’t going to be a waitress at the yacht club anymore.

This chapter has finally closed.

Finally.

I was going to live the life I’ve always dreamed of.

Have everything I’ve always wanted.

Officially qualified, I will strive to be the greatest disaster manager around.

I’m on a paved road to many accomplishments.

Soon I too will be rich, independent, and successful.

Chapter 2

I used the thirty-minute drive to my parents’ house to recite a short speech I mentally prepared to thank them for their support during my studies.

Though family gatherings have always been special, today was unique as my family decided to congregate to celebrate my graduation.

I beamed as I knocked on my parents’ front door and my grandfather opened. Cheerful as ever, he led me inside the house and gave me a hug and kiss, which left the smell of moonshine and tobacco on my clothes.

Entering the open-plan living room, I could see my mom’s joyful face from behind the kitchen counter. She placed the bowl of freshly chopped parsley down and made her way over to me. Short on her heels was gran in tow for a hug.

Gran emphasized my prominence by placing her glass of red down prior to our embracement, which caught me off guard.

Answering gran’s spurt of intrusive questions about my personal well-being and whom I was dating, I couldn’t shake the concern I felt when I noticed the limp mother had whenever she walked.

My father walking over to greet me saved me from gran’s verbal arrows, and I hugged him a moment longer than usual.

Dad happily elaborated about the new PlayStation he bought my twelve-year-old brother and didn’t notice the subtle hints I gave inquiring about mom’s limp. Accepting the failure of my nonverbal cues, I looked over at little Reagan who merely mumbled an acknowledgement and continued playing his game.

Once everyone settled down, I noticed my mother wiping the dining table and offered to help. Unwilling to hand me the cloth, she asked me to bring her the prized fine china she kept in the top cupboard.

Mom was adamant as she elaborated how exceptional today was and politely declined any form of compromise.

I reluctantly agreed and moments later found myself reaching for the plates balancing on a flimsy kitchen chair with the same skillset of a circus elephant on a plastic ball.

Wiping the dust off the plates, I felt slightly self-conscious, thinking what big of a deal my parents made of my achievement.

I watched Mom and Gran collecting the hot dishes from the oven and quickly placed the bamboo placemats on the table.

Once the array of foods was presented and everyone took their places at the table, I watched contented as my mother lit the candles while the rest of the family dished feverishly.

The aroma of meatloaf, buttered corn, and baked potatoes filled the room. Grandpa was talking about the latest incident at the old-age home when he added a tad of rum to the cafeteria punch.

Grandpa explained to the family with theatrical ostentation how repulsed he was after receiving a warning from the matron from doing what he considered a noble deed. Placing his hand on his chest, he reasoned it a mere coincidence when Mrs. Gladstone slipped later that afternoon and broke her hip.

Gran was nodding heatedly as she slid another baked potato in her cheek, mumbling how everyone kept coming back for more, which left me wondering whom she was referring to.

Somehow my grandparents believed that rules don’t apply to them.

I looked over at Reagan who had been exceptionally silent the entire time.

My little brother seemed preoccupied in his attempt to load as much food as humanly possible onto a medium-sized plate.

My gaze turned to Mom and Dad, who winked at one another as everyone passed dishes around, and it suddenly dawned on me that there was an added surprise coming my way.

I loved surprises like this.

I smiled as I dished the orange and basil-macerated cherries into my side plate, and my mother jumped at the chance to hand me the bowl of ricotta cheese. Feeling like the goose who laid the golden egg, I could feel Mom’s eyes watching me taking two scoops from her signature dish.

Once everyone finished dishing up, my dad reached for the bottle of champagne and wasted no time popping the cork.

Grandpa was first to hand his glass to my dad who cheerfully filled the crystal flute with the bubbly silver liquid.

With the poise of a French waiter, my dad held the bottle high and confidently poured the remaining glasses from shoulder height.

Smiling at my mother, he raised his own glass and proposed a toast.

Sliding my glass closer, I had an inkling of what was to follow.

My parents have mentioned it once or twice before.

I always thought they were joking, but somehow I knew today was going to be different.

They were going to surprise me with a new car!

Not wanting to ruin their surprise, I sucked on a cherry, acting utterly oblivious. Everyone held their glasses up.

I decided not to lift mine off the table to insinuate complete unawareness.

My dad cleared his throat as he looked at Reagan and back at me.

Pride was emanating from his eyes.

Taking a long pause to keep his emotion in check, I leisurely ran my finger down the stem as I rolled the cherry around in my mouth.

I felt secretly exhilarated, and Dad certainly knew how to prolong everyone’s anticipation.

I wondered what color it was.

My dad scanned over the faces at the table, and with a huge grin, he lifted his glass even higher as he announced the unthinkable.

Mom was pregnant!

The cherry turned sideways in my throat.

I looked at Reagan, who stopped chewing.

I coughed as I reached for my champagne, finishing the contents in one gulp. Grandpa was the first to clap.

Grandma joined a few seconds later.

Reagan and I gaped at one another blankly as my parents embraced.

My dad turned around and asked what I thought.

I couldn’t speak.

I had no words.

I reached over for the bottle of champagne, fumbling as I refilled my glass.

I felt nothing.

Only horror.

My parents turned into nine-banded armadillos!

Getting pregnant every twelve years.

Chapter 3

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice how uncomfortable the Laundromat’s chair was until the washing machine’s humming stopped and switched over to a spin cycle. My body was stiff after spending the entire day alone in my flat curled into a ball, crying incessantly.

The door slamming behind me caused my body to jerk, and I jumped up, annoyed at the man who entered. I simulated a stretch when I noticed my edgy behavior didn’t go undetected.

The owner’s dark eyes followed me, and I retorted with a sheepish smile.

The old lady inspected me suspiciously for a few more seconds before she continued unpacking the altered clothing.

I looked over to the man who caused my heart to miss a beat. I wanted to make him aware of his inconsiderate behavior by giving him my most obnoxious stare, but to my dismay he was immersed in thought.

I watched as he moved briskly toward the rear of the Laundromat and his black eyes moved peculiarly under a shadow of black bushy eyebrows. Still contemplating my revenge, I watched his salt-and-pepper mustache twitch between two imprinted lines of a life without laughter. I moved to my chair and sat back down.

The flashing green light on my washer caught my attention, and I placed my clothes into my basket and headed toward the dryers.

White handwritten out-of-order notes were stuck to the entire row of dryers except one, which was in use.

I placed my basket at my feet and sat down, patiently waiting for the young man in an oversized basketball jersey to finish his laundry.

The pounding headache didn’t do me any favors and I soon realized waiting too long might result in my eyes popping out of my skull.

Desperate to save time I considered asking the young man if I could add my laundry to his. Wondering if I could offer him a double payment for a favor I noticed that he sensed my haste.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for causing him to constantly look over his shoulder and incessantly fidgeting with his studs I took the closest newspaper and pretended to read.

I soon realized concentration was futile as the pain behind my eyes caused my vision to duplicate the majority of sentences.

Folding the newspaper on my lap, I rested my head against the cold gray pillar and watched the old lady methodically folding the laundry at the counter. Contemplating asking her for a painkiller, I sighed once I remembered she didn’t speak a word of English.

My dilemma must have affected the young man in front of me greatly as he started tapping his fingers against the dryer, glancing at his watch.

My mind raced back to the previous day’s events, and I remembered what my parents got me into.

Both Reagan and me.

I grabbed my head in horror as I considered my friends’ reaction.

I only became aware of myself physically shaking my head in denial once the young man pushed the dryer’s emergency button and flung his clothes inside a dark-green shoulder bag.

The mere thought of my personal circumstances turned out to be the hay that cracked the horse’s back as he rummaged through the dryer, collecting his laundry.

I’ve unintentionally demoralized a stranger.

I looked down at the paper on my lap to avert the look I was expecting and waited till I could hear him walking past me and out the door.

I looked toward the exit and noticed the mustached man walking out closely behind the young man.

Wondering if he was following him and if it had been me all this time, I instantly disregarded the notion as a result of spending too much time alone in my flat.

Pushing myself off the chair, I noted the dark piece of clothing lying on the floor.

Guilt-ridden for causing him to lose a piece of clothing, I collected the black sweater and decided to hand it in.

I froze as my gaze fell on the machine right in front of me.

I dawned on me why he had been acting so uncomfortable.

The shining green light reflected from the open dryer right next to him. Available the entire time. I looked like a Laundromat prowler.

I could feel my face glowing, and I was wondering what he must have thought of me when my fingers touched a distinct object inside the sweater.

I reached into the pocket and couldn’t believe my luck.

The container was a well-known brand of painkillers.

Popping the lid, I was relieved to notice five white capsules, all perfectly intact. Wasting no time, I swallowed one capsule dryly and soon felt the gluey exterior sticking to the sides of my throat.

Tilting my head side to side I held on to the side of the washer as I gagged, coughed, and wheezed in my attempt to force it’s way down my stomach.

I was relieved once I was able to feel the pill slide down and I was cleared from any choking hazards.

The old lady’s eyes were studying me intensely.

I could feel her labelling me as a deranged individual.

This time around I couldn’t care less.

I placed the container inside my pocket, loaded my clothes into the dryer, and sat down on the chair.

I watched the timer ticking down.

It started with a glow.

Then it became a red worm snaking across the screen.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

It made shapes and spelled cryptic words.

I was relieved when it stopped and started blinking wildly to free my sight from the science fiction movie I was experiencing.

My clothes were done.

Twenty-five minutes felt like twenty-five seconds.

I packed my dry clothes into the basket and felt my shoes turn into gravity defying devices when I made my way out the door.

I placed the sweater on the table in front of her without saying a word.

She could think what she wanted.

I’ve lost my last strand of dignity twenty-four hours ago.

Maybe even less.

I had to get back to my flat as soon as possible.

I’ve never had painkillers this strong.

These were from another dimension.

Chapter 4

Waiting at Colton’s coffee shop for my best friend to arrive, I smiled, reminiscing.

We met in junior high, after her parents moved to our city.

She stood in front of the class, self-consciously clutching her books under her arms as the teacher introduced Cynthiana Partridge as our new classmate. Cynthiana was a natural redhead blessed with the complete package of a freckled nose and fair skin.

I had quickly learned that her placid nature should never be underestimated as she was capable of a temper flare that could scare the warriors of Troy.

After only six months at the new school, Cynthiana started dating Luke, who was seated next to her during Math.

Luke Critter was an average-looking kid. He was from a colossal family.

He was the fourth of five children, four girls with him being the only boy, most of whom wasn’t much more than a year apart.

The school was jam-packed with the Critters. Literally.

It has been six years since we finished school and Cynthiana and Luke were still dating, with a mere three of four breakups in-between.

The waiter walked over, and I smiled when Cynthiana appeared behind him. Placing her files and colossal handbag on the table, she apologized for being late and spoke incessantly about the tiring day she had at the accounting firm.

The waiter asked if it would be the usual, and we thanked him as he left to prepare our cappuccinos and carrot cake.

I rested my head on my palms, feigning interest as she complained about her situation at work.

Cynthiana was entangled in a disagreement with human resources and disputing the bonus they didn’t receive.

I joked, telling her that being the accountant she could write her own checks, but her flashing green eyes encouraged me to pick my moments more carefully.

I asked her about Luke and his family, and Cynthiana’s face lit up.

She was bragging about Luke and how much he has accomplished, and I smiled, listening, surreptitiously regretting opening a can of worms.

She told me that he passed his instructors’ rating and planned to open his own driving school and elaborated on the costs involved in leasing business property. I congratulated her, telling her how impressed I was as the waiter appeared with our customary order.

She was digging her fork into the cake, scooping the frosting, when I told her that there was something I needed to tell her.

She ate slowly and sipped on her cappuccino as her green eyes squinted curiously.

I felt strangely unnerved, mostly mortified.

She must have noticed as she didn’t push it.

She placed her fork down and told me that she had something to tell me as well. I asked her to go first, hoping that her story would be more humiliating than mine and somehow save my last thread of self-esteem.

A massive smile crept across her face.

She proudly announced that Luke asked her to marry him, and she said yes.

She asked if I could to be her maid of honor.

Of course I would!

I was thrilled!

Jumping up, hugging her, I felt excited being part of her big day and the next step in her life.

She told me that he prepared a perfect private moment to pop the question during a family dinner.

Smiling, I nodded,