Oliver Benjamin
The low doorway burned with flames, as did the passage out back.
There was no good exit. Leona was trapped in a whirlwind of fire. The
essential oils on her skin sang out her doom in bright floral tones. He
could no longer see her.
Izzy leapt for the fire-extinguisher which had been emptied
during the first anarchist invasion. He glanced fearfully around.
There was his only hope: Partment’s nude-suit, still hanging on the
wall, remnant of a revel he never attended. Jumping inside and
zipping himself up, he prayed the synthetic fibers would afford him
adequate protection from the wall of flame encircling the entrance.
But the suit would not cover his face and it was clear that though he
might live, he would surely be blinded or disfigured. He prayed to
God for a solution, and it was a god that answered him, though not
the one he expected.
On the outside Izzy ran from the inferno, the wooden San Simon
on his face burning and smoking. The workers watched as the naked
masked woman stumbled towards them, her body melting, her hair
on fire. The level-headed foreman dumped the contents of his coffee
thermos on Izzy’s head and pulled the suit from his body with his
gloved hands.
“Son of a bitch,” one of the workers exclaimed.
“You okay?” the foreman asked the boy.
“There’s someone else inside,” Izzy said, gasping for air.
The foreman stood up. “Somebody call the fire department. And
an ambulance. And the police. Just call fucking everybody!” he
yelled, “And somebody get me another goddamn coffee!”
The Caterpillar burned before Izzy’s eyes, a metamorphosis in
reverse, an auto-da-féhe no longer approved of. The machines were
innocent.
Meanwhile, Bennie and Colin were being restrained by two other
destruction workers and it seemed that they might be sent up the
river as well, if not for the fortuitous arrival of the former
Undergrounds van.
“You can’t drive here. This is for pedestrians only,” one of the
workers said.
“Sorry! I’ll just be a sec,” the driver promised, getting out of the
car. He pointed a heavily-ringed finger at Colin and Bennie and
exulted, “Hey cats! My contract fell through in Vegas. I thought your
club might have an opening. Check this out…” He tap-danced a bit
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