1 comments/ 7945 views/ 0 favorites Tales of Moore, Indiana By: msnomer68 The Maze The summer had been long, hot and dry, the heat seemed eternal. At long last summer had lost its grip and autumn had come. The first leaves began to change as the main street of this little town known as Moore unfurled its décor in preparation for the annual Labor Day parade. Moore wasn’t really big enough to be considered for a notation on the state map, the only thing the town had to offer was a gas station, a bar, and corn, row upon row, field after field, nothing but corn. By early October Moore had seen the first frost, glistening on the drying stalks of corn, melting fast in the early morning sun turning to dew. The harvest moon hung in the clear dark sky, the air laden with the perfume of burning leaves. Day and night the combines ran harvesting the endless fields of corn. Corn prices had fallen through the floor, although this was a tragedy and the talk of the town at the local Co-op, the farmers proceeded with the annual ritual of harvesting anyway. Except for one, he had an idea that might bring in more money than the harvest; he would create a maze, a maze out of the drying stalks of corn. He would charge $5 a head to wander through this maze of maize. That was another commodity the town had, besides corn, teenagers; an endless supply of teens. The farmer and his combine began to carve the maze through the forty plus acres of his corn field, the stalks which were now the golden brown that comes with autumn. It was one week before Halloween. Luckily, Indian summer warmed the air, one last brief romance before the winter snows began. Tonight at the local high school, the Harvest Moon dance was in full force. Blue jeans and tennis shoes had been traded for tuxedos and formal gowns, the gym had been transformed into a fantasy land of crepe paper and balloons. The theme this year was a simple one, “Harvest your future”. Laura stood in front of her full length mirror styling her long blonde hair; applying the last touches to her makeup. She stood back to examine herself, her pale blue taffeta dress clung seductively to her maturing curves. She was a senior now, she had the best looking boyfriend in school, she was popular, she made good grades, now she was going to be the queen of the Harvest Moon and get her picture in the local paper. “Life is great” she thought to herself. She waited patiently for her date to pick her up, waited patiently admiring herself in the mirror. Beau was running late as usual, he had spent all day in the fields trying to help his father repair an aging combine. He scrubbed himself down in the shower, trying desperately to get the engine oil out from underneath his fingernails. Hurriedly he dried himself and threw on his tux. He ran some gel through his shower damp hair and checked his inventory. He had $40 in his wallet, his driver’s license, a condom, and a little bottle of peppermint schnapps for after the dance. He and Laura had never had sex, she drove him crazy with her petting and kisses, he wanted more and with the help of the peppermint schnapps and his enduring charm, he planned to get it. He wrapped the bottle up tightly in his duffel bag, uttered a hurried goodbye to his family and brought the engine of the ancient truck roaring to life. Beth looked out of her bedroom window as she heard her neighbor’s truck roar to life and the crunch of gravel as it pulled away. She didn’t have a date for the dance, in fact, she never had a date. She looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t see anything to admire. She was of average height, above average weight, mousey brown hair, just an average girl in an average town, on an ordinary Saturday night. She flopped dejectedly onto her bed, and re-read the flyer she had gotten at the gas station. It read: October 25 – Halloween night Corn Maze Hours of entertainment and fun Try it if you dare $5 per person $8 per couple 9pm till you find your way out Located on Highway 41, just north of Moore Can’t miss it. Her brother was only a grade behind her; she could smell his cologne wafting through the hallway from his room. Marilyn Manson blared on his stereo; she could hear him singing “The Beautiful People” in his best imitation. He was getting ready for the dance. “Even a freak like him could find a date and I couldn’t” she muttered to herself. She pulled on her mud boots and an old jacket, gathered up her flashlight and headed out to the maze. She pounded on her brother’s door “Hey, Jake!” “Hey asshole I’m leaving without you!” Not only was it bad enough that he had a date for the dance, she had to drive him and his “woman” to it, as he only had a learner’s permit. Jake’s bedroom door flew open, clouds of marijuana smoke mixed with gardenia scented air freshener wafted out. “What do ya think?” he asked as he strutted down the hallway. It was Jake’s first dance. Beth nodded her head approvingly, pointed at her watch which now said 7:30 and pushed him down the hallway toward the front door. Her parents weren’t home, luckily for Jake. They were in Bakersville at the Grotto having supper and no doubt copping a good buzz from their martinis. She had been lent her mother’s car for the evening, a 99 Dodge Neon. Jake took out the CD of classical music their mother so enjoyed and with the roar of the engine Marilyn Manson commenced crooning. Beth rolled her eyes and headed toward town to pick up his date. Laura’s heart pounded as she heard the truck pull up her driveway. She wished he could find a job and buy a better mode of transportation, but the bed of the truck was perfect for stretching out and petting. Maybe tonight I’ll let him get to third base she thought to herself as she grabbed her evening bag and rushed down the stairs. Her mother was waiting for her on the landing, snapping pictures. “I want you to remember this night” she said as she snapped away. “These are the best days of your life” she went on to say. The door bell rang, Saved by the bell, Laura thought to herself as she opened the door. “Oh! Let me get a picture of you two” exclaimed Laura’s mother. A quick pose and the blinding flash from the camera and they were on their way. The 99 Dodge pulled up to Jake’s girlfriend’s house. “Gonna get some tonight sis” Jake exclaimed as he hopped out of the passenger side and bounded up the walk. He pounded on the oak door to Chrissie’s house, she emerged, Jake trotted to the car and opened the door for her, a true gentleman. The door to the back seat flung open “Hi, Beth” whispered Chrissie as she slid in to the car. Beth liked Chrissie, Chrissie was in Beth’s homeroom and they sat together at lunch. Chrissie was a waif of a girl, slender and tall, way too good for my brother Beth thought to herself. Beth gunned the engine, barely giving her brother enough time to shut the door. Music wafted through the halls of the school from the gym, mixing with the scent of cheap perfume, bubble gum, and the clacking of high heels. Beau navigated Laura through the crowds of teens mingling in the entrance and on to the dance floor. The gym was decorated in pink and blue crepe paper streamers, hoards of teens swayed back and forth to the music in couples. Laura thought to herself “This is going to be a magical night”. Beau pulled her a little closer and slid his hand down the small of her back resting it on her rump. She immediately repositioned his hand to a more proper location. Beth pulled the car up to the curb dropping off Jake and Chrissie, he didn’t help her out of the car, he didn’t wait for her, but proceeded to make his way over to where a mass of his cronies waited for him. He gave them high fives and the usual male greetings “C’mon Chrissie” he said impatiently. Chrissie trotted after him as best she could in the unfamiliar garb of formal wear and her mother’s high heels. Beth pulled out of the school parking lot and turned onto the highway. She slid a bottle of Crown Royal out from under the passenger seat and took a quick sip. The liquid burned her throat and left a warm feeling in her stomach, she pointed the car northbound on 41 toward the maze. The local bar had its usual Saturday night crowd in attendance. Mike sat at the barstool propping himself up on the bar. He had been at the bar since early that afternoon. He sipped beer after beer and was feeling no pain at present. The bar was a small and crowded place, smelling of a mixture of sweat, beer, cigarette smoke, and cheap perfume. The town had fallen on bad times, local factories had lain off, the harvest wasn’t brining in any money, and this is where the townspeople came to drink away the woes of their misery. Just as the town had fallen on hard times, so had Mike; he had spent years of back breaking labor at the foundry in Bakersville only to be laid off due to cut backs. He drew his weekly unemployment checks and spent them here at the Moore Bar and Grill. The bar hadn’t served food for many years; it only technically served food to satisfy the requirements of the state in order to be open on Sunday for the convenience of its patrons. The jukebox played country music. In the back, women gathered around the pool table where an intense game of stripes and solids ensued. “You want another Mike?” asked Rosalie the barkeep. Mike passed her his empty mug nodding his head yes. In walked a couple of Mike’s ex- coworkers from the foundry; dirty, and smelling of sweat. Their clothing and bodies covered in a fine black film, dirt and grime from the foundry. The black film wouldn’t wash away; it was deep in their nostrils and lay deep in their lungs. Mike had been laid off for 2 months now; he still woke up in the middle of the night with a stuffy head full of the fine black powder. “Hey Mike” they said as they walked by taking seats at the bar next to him. Mike shook his head in their general direction, gulping down his beer. After the game of stripes and solids was over, someone at the back spoke up, addressing the patrons of the bar in general. “We’re going out to the corn maze if anyone wants to go.” It was Nancy; at one time she was the sparkle in Moore’s eye. Queen of the Harvest Moon dance year after year, cheer leader, she had a promising future. Now here she stood in her mid forties, overweight, wrinkles forming, hair bleached blonde. The sparkle had gone out. Nancy had gotten pregnant right after high school and had married the man, who not to long after her son Beau was born, left her. She had remarried; a farmer, of course, who tended to his fields more lovingly than he tended to her. Beau was now in high school, and she worked the deli counter at the Food Shoppe in Bakersville. Mike glanced over in her general direction then returned to his beer. He felt a tug on his shirt; “C’mon Mike, it’ll do you some good to have a change of scenery.” Nancy spun him around on his bar stool and mustered him up onto his feet. “Rosalie” she went on to say “I’m steeling one of your number one patrons” she navigated Mike and the others who were up for adventure toward the door. As the truck sped up highway 41, the musty odor from the fields assaulted Mike’s senses. Mike pulled his jacket up closer. The night air was cold and damp. Mike thought to himself, “Why did I agree to this?” He had been born and raised in Moore, he spent most of his life planting, tending, and harvesting corn. He hated corn, hated the smell of it, the taste of it, and hated the stalks with their razor sharp blades. He hated the summer heat, the stink of the autumn harvest season, he hated the town, the foundry, hated everything about his life. He liked two things, winter and Nancy. The cold snowy winters quelled the stench from the fields and made the town look fresh and new again. In high school, he had the biggest crush on Nancy, he went to every game just to see her cheer, he voted time and time again for her to be queen of the Harvest Moon. She hadn’t known that he existed, but he was here with her now, she was the reason he had agreed to go. The truck slowed and turned onto a gravel road. The dust from the road choked Mike, bringing him out of his drunken revere. They had arrived. An old farm house stood looming in the light from the harvest moon, the farmer known as “Old Man Jones” stood taking money from his patrons. His wife was selling home made hot apple cider for $2 a glass. “Quite a racket” Mike thought to himself as he hopped out of the back of the pickup, joining the other adventure seekers. After the obligatory photos and glasses of punch and weak conversation; after repeated refusals by Laura, Beau was starting to loose patience and interest in the dance. Beau had been approached by his class mates, they were bailing out of the dance and going out to the corn maze, Beau wanted to go. At first, Laura was resistant, she wanted to be here to receive her crown, she was certain she’d win. “Can’t we stay just a few more minutes?” she’d ask as she snuggled in closer to him, causing him considerable distress below the belt. He begrudgingly agreed. The night drug on, his friends had already skipped out. He stayed and dutifully danced with Laura. She had won this round, but not without giving in some major ground, she allowed him to rest his hand on her rear, it stayed happily there. She had even allowed him to sneak a peek at her breasts, now that was a major accomplishment he thought to himself. The queen of the Harvest Moon was announced, Laura had won, as expected. Proudly she wore her crown and posed for pictures. This was her moment of triumph. Beau snuck into the girl’s locker room and gathered her sweats, gym shirt and tennis shoes; he knew she’d never consent to going to the maze in a formal gown. He waited for her to soak up her glory by the entrance to the gym. She glanced in his direction, he made a come here motion, and she obeyed. He kissed her on the cheek and handed her the clothing he had gathered. She knew that she had to change and go with him; to stay any longer would be pushing her luck. She went to the locker room and changed. When she emerged, he was waiting for her by the truck, he had abandoned his tux and had donned a ratty pair of jeans, mud boots and a jacket, and he held the door open for her and motioned for her to come inside. He slid the bottle of schnapps out of his duffle bag and handed it to her. “Here it’ll keep you warm” he said as he unscrewed the cap for her. She took a sip and felt its warmth in her belly, it was good and sweet, and tasting just like the Christmas candy canes she so loved and she took a bigger gulp. Beau coaxed the engine of the truck to roar to life, pulled out of the school parking lot and headed up highway 41 toward the maze. Laura leaned back in the seat, her head starting to spin from the schnapps; she thought to herself “life is great.” Jake and Chrissie made a brief appearance at the dance. They didn’t take time to have their photo done or to drink the punch. The slipped out of the gym and snuck into the music room where Jake produced a joint of enormous proportions. He lit the joint inhaling deeply and passed it to her. She hesitantly took the joint from him “What if we get caught?” she asked. Jake shrugged his shoulders in response exhaling the intoxicating smoke . She took a short drag off the joint coughing and gasping as the hot smoke burned her throat. “No, deeper” Jake coached. She tried again, her head was reeling and she felt strange as she inhaled again. Midway through the joint, she had become a master. Everything was funny to her, Jake buried his head into her breasts; that was funny too, and caused another strange rush of sensation to assault her. Uninhibited due to the effects of the drug, she lowered the straps of the gown and unhooked her bra, inviting him in. He greedily and lustfully accepted the invitation. He took her hand and slid it down the front of his tux; she could feel him and how much he wanted her. The moment and the sensations escalated and she gave in to his advances, allowing him to slide his hand up her dress, allowing him to slide his pants off, allowing him to take her. Afterwards, they lay on the floor of the music room in a pile of abandoned formal wear. Jake lit a cigarette and handed it to her. Neither one of them said anything they just lay there amidst the woodwinds and brass, contemplating the mystery of adulthood they had just experienced. Footsteps echoed up the hall, Chrissie threw Jake a terrified look. He simply held his finger to her lips bidding her to be quiet and still. The footsteps of the security guard walked past the door of the music room and on down the long corridor. Hurriedly they got dressed. He whispered in her ear about the corn maze and how a bunch of classmates were going to go after the dance, she didn’t feel much like dancing anymore, and the dance was coming to an end, she agreed to go. Beth navigated the small Neon up the gravel road listening to the rocks ping off the under frame of the car. She sipped away on the Crown Royal and was beginning to feel its affect. She pulled up the lane to the old farm house and put the car into park. “Oh shit” she thought to herself, Beau’s mom and a bunch of the adults from the local bar were paying admission and entering the maze. Hurriedly she fumbled in her purse for a stick of gum, chomping on it to deaden the smell from the whiskey. She slid the rest of the pack of gum, and the remainder of the pilfered bottle of Crown Royal into her bag, grabbing her flashlight she headed toward Old Man Jones to pay the $5 admission fee. Old man Jones eagerly took her money; this was definitely paying more than the Co-op would for his corn. He pointed out that his wife was selling home made hot apple cider and directed her to the entrance to the maze. She stumbled over the uneven ground and entered. Beau and Laura arrived at the farm house, Laura was feeling light headed and giddy from the schnapps Beau had offered her. He slid the truck in park, paid their admission and directed her into the maze. She leaned heavily against him, tripping over the uneven ground in the darkness. He hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, it didn’t matter, his plan was to lead her in, slide away from the path, and have his way with her. They had dated for eight months, it was time. He had been a good boyfriend, putting up with her and her prissy friends; he had given in to her time after time, now she would give into him. Giggling she stumbled again in the darkness grabbing onto Beau for support. Her crown which she had insisted on wearing tumbled into the darkness making a tinny thunk as it landed on the dry hard packed dirt of the field. “Beau, get my crown” she whispered to him. Obligingly he obeyed, feeling the dark earth and locating her crown. Without a word he placed it upon her blonde tresses. Jake helped Chrissie up into the bed of the old Chevy truck driven by an upper classman. The truck was full to the brim with partying high school kids, his kind of people. It careened up highway 41 toward the farm house leaving a trail of beer cans and cigarette buts in its wake. The teens cheered as the truck made its way to the farm house. They gathered all of the money they had and somehow managed to pay admission. A laughing, yowling, mass of teens they entered the maze. Chrissie held tightly to Jakes hand, she was quietly contemplating what she was doing here with him, entering a maze of dried corn stalks in a formal gown and high heels. She tumbled to the ground almost pulling Jake down with her; he steadied her on to her feel and suggested that she remove her high heeled shoes. She readily agreed, carefully picking her way through the dried stalks of corn. For as drunk as he was, Mike stealthily led the group to the center of the maze. If there was anything Mike knew, it was corn. The stalks loomed above him the dried leaves looking like arms reaching out, the ears of corn hanging precariously off the stalks. “Hang on a minute” said a member of the group “I gotta take a piss.” One of the male members, a tall, hulk of a man wandered off the path of the maze to relieve himself. Tales of Moore, Indiana “Will you hurry it up Rodge” Mike shouted impatiently shivering against the night chill. He wished he had brought a bottle of something intoxicating with him, just to fight off the chill. Rodger Pike emerged from the stalks of corn and struck a match lighting a cigarette. Rodger was a foreigner to these parts, selling out of his big city life style to manage the Dairy Frost on route 1. “Goddammit Rodger!” exclaimed Mike. “Are you stupid or something, put that thing out before you set the field on fire and get us all killed.” There had been no rain for days and the corn was dry, smoking a cigarette in these conditions could easily start a flash fire. “Ok, ok” Rodger stammered “Jesus” he drunkenly uttered as he tossed the cigarette to the ground. He thought Mike was full of shit, he thought Mike was just playing big man to impress Nancy. Even an idiot could see the attraction between the two of them. Mike led the procession through the maze, Nancy close behind him. Nancy tripped over a furrow in the ground grabbing onto Mike. Quickly he grasped her hand and steadied her on her feet. “You don’t have to let go” she whispered. They were several feet ahead of the others and in the darkness and tall corn, no one could see, he clasped her hand in his savoring the moment and led them on. Beth stumbled her way through the maze her little flashlight barely making a dent in the darkness. She could hear voices of fellow maze wanderers in the distance ahead of her. She shivered looking up at the stalks of corn which loomed in the glow of the moon. She was starting to get a little scared. She slipped her bottle of Crown Royal out of her bag, taking a big gulp of it, grateful for the warmth and comfort it provided. The cornstalks to her left began to shake and rattle “OOOOOOOHHHH I am the ghost of the great pumpkin coming to get yooooouuuuuuuu!” a voice moaned. To her right she could hear a voice whispering “Jaaaaasssssonnn, Jaaasssoooonnnn, Killlll, killlll.” “All right you fuckers, c’mon out. You’re not scaring me!” she cried out against the darkness. Truth was; she was a little freaked. A screech behind her and hands were on her shoulders forcing her to the ground, her brother was on top of her wrestling the bottle of Crown Royal out of her grasp. His cronies bounded out of the cornstalks on either side of her. They heehawed and laughed in chorus, passing the bottle of Crown Royal amongst them. “You son of a bitch” she cried out as she kneed her brother gently in his private parts, taking the bottle from him and hurriedly downing what was left of its contents. “Oh, it’s too late, my buddy has already been drained for the night” he cackled shooting a devilish grin toward Chrissie. “Let’s get out of here” he said as he sauntered through the labyrinth of corn. Begrudgingly, Beth followed the group, even her brother was better than being alone. She led up the rear, helping Chrissie pick her way through the furrows. “Oh, Beau, this is kind of scary” Laura whispered as she leaned into him holding his arm tightly. She really wasn’t scared, at least not of the maze. She was nervous and jittery, her heart pounding. Beau was gong to be her first, she was going to let him take her tonight, she had hoped for her first time to be full of candles, violins, romance, not in moldy stalks of dried corn. She pulled closer, just as an excuse to be close to him and to turn him on. “Fear not my love, I am here to protect my beautiful queen” Beau said making a gallant bow. The fallen stalks of corn crunched beneath her tennis shoes, the ears of corn on the ground bending the soles as she walked over them. The couple stumbled their way through the maze and wandered upon a dead end. Beau grasped her hand tightly and led her into the depths of corn. “Beau, I don’t think this is the way” Laura said. He ignored her protests and navigated her through the stalks and into a bear spot. “This is perfect” he thought to himself. The bear spot surrounded by the tall stalks of dry corn provided for ultimate privacy. The spot had most likely been made by deer, which had been chased away from their habitat by the droves of adventurers. He sat down in the midst of the fallen stalks and guided her down beside him. “Beau, what are we doing here?” she asked. He ignored her protests and pulled her toward him kissing her and caressing her hair. Her protests became weaker and weaker, she yielded to his advances. The abandoned cigarette butt landed in a clearing such as the one that Beau and Laura now occupied, forgotten about it smoldered, causing the dry, fallen stalks to smoke and heat up. Three components are necessary to start a fire; fuel, ignition, and oxygen; this little cigarette butt, in this big field had an unlimited supply of oxygen and fuel which it greedily consumed Mike and his drunken followers ran into dead end after dead end. Mike was sobering up and becoming more and more frustrated with himself. “I thought you knew the way out” one of them proclaimed from the rear of the assembly. The protestor a red headed barfly from the neighboring burg of Huntstown had agreed to go on this adventure because she was hoping to get close to Mike. She was hoping he’d notice the fact that she was single, ready, and willing. To date, he had not. “Just shut up back there!” Mike exclaimed. “I’ll get us out and back to town before the bar closes, and then you can buy my beer for the rest of the night.” He turned the group around and began retracing their steps. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on them like a spot light. He could hear the whirring of semi tires on pavement; they had to be close to the highway by now. If nothing else, he could get them to the highway and they could follow it back to the house. A pungent fragrance struck his nose, a smoky, heavy, choking scent like that of burning leaves. In the distance, toward what he perceived to be the center of the field, he could see white clouds of smoke rising and orange flame licking skyward, the field was on fire. What was at first an adventure was now life or death, he had to get them out of the field fast, or none of them would make last call, ever again. He didn’t want to start a panic; he had burned out enough fields after the harvest to know how quickly a fire could spread. He grabbed Nancy’s hand even tighter and led the group away from the path and into the rows of corn. “Where are we going?” the barfly named Miranda, Randy for short, asked. “Were getting the hell out of here, I need a beer” Mike replied as he led the group toward what he believed was the highway. Led the group to what he hoped was the highway. Beth and the others stumbled drunkenly through the maze toward the center. Beth smelled the smoke as did the others but they summed that it must be coming from someone burning fall leaves, they did not perceive that they were in any immanent danger. The closer they got to the center, the heavier the smoke became, aberrant leaves from the corn stalks wafted up on drafts of hot air sparking and curling they floated carried by the gentle fall breeze, landing in another part of the field, quickly igniting it. Jake was the first to see the flames jutting up toward the moon, making it appear an angry shade of red-orange. “Beth” he said coughing on the smoke. “We gotta’ get out’ a here.” Her eyes widened in fear as she saw the flames in their macabre dance against the dark of the night sky. She pulled her brother into the dirt of the field; the smoke had become so thick she could hardly breathe. They began to crawl retracing their previous steps. The fire seemed to become a living thing, having seen them; it began to pursue them as a hunter pursues its prey. Beau had convinced his love to let him past second base, gently he caressed her sliding his hands up under her bra and down into her panties. They were too overcome by passion to notice the dangerous situation they were being surrounded by. Gingerly she touched his manhood; she liked the way it pulsed against her hand. “I’ve got protection” he muttered into her ear. He had become a mass of male hormone running on instinct, stopping him now would have been as futile as trying to put out the fire which was encroaching upon them with a garden hose. She slid her jeans down her narrow girlish hips giving her authorization for him to proceed. He couldn’t believe his luck! After all these months of patiently waiting, she was giving in. She was rewarding him for being a good boyfriend, faithful and true. Eagerly he ripped the package to the rubber open with his teeth, slid it on; just the way they had taught him in 9th grade health class, and entered her. “Life is great” he thought to himself as he rocked in that archaic rhythm of pure instinct and drive. Mrs. Jones greedily counted the nights proceeds, crumpled up 5’s, 1’s and10’s. She had sold gallon after gallon of her “homemade apple cider” which was purchased from the Food Shoppe in Bakersville for $1.99 a gallon. She thought when Nancy saw her, she’d blow her cover, but she hadn’t. Obviously, Nancy had her mind on other things, nameingly Mike. Mrs. Jones cackled to herself, now that would make an interesting topic in the beauty shop on Monday. Mrs. Jones looked up, after smelling the heavy, pungent, odor of burning leaves. She wondered what her husband was up to, what was he burning now? She couldn’t just leave their guests although the hour was late approaching midnight. “Where in the hell was he?” she thought to herself. She looked around to see what was burning, when she noticed the flame and the smoke rising from the field. She dropped the remainder of her counterfeit apple cider leaving it to be absorbed into the dry; rain starved ground, and ran to find her husband. The Moore Fire Department consisted of one tanker truck and a rag tag band of volunteers. Old Man Jones’ fingers trembled as he dialed 9-1-1. His voice cracked and wavered as he gave directions to his farm. His heart pounded, he too had seen fields on fire, he knew how fast they could spread, he knew how much danger his guests were in, he feared for the worst. The farm was 5 miles from town, he could hear the siren sounding, rousing the volunteers and towns people from slumber; someone was in trouble, that someone was him. He rushed out of the house slamming the screen door behind him, almost ripping it away from its hinges. He hurried to the well cover, straining to open it, the tanker truck only held 2000 gallons. They would need more, much, much, more. Mrs. Jones stood on the old wooden porch, her hand clasped to her mouth, as she heard the first of the screams wafting on the cool night air, had the fire claimed its first victim? Crying, she dropped to her knees and began to pray. Lieutenant David Grimes was aroused from his slumber by the tones from his emergency radio and from the siren which could be heard throughout the town. Sleepily he rose out of bed and slid on his faded jeans. Fumbling through the dark of the bedroom, he found his boots and keys. He looked up to see the outline of a small child in the doorway. “Gotta go daddy?” the little girl asked looking up at him. He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, patting her on the butt, and lowered her gently into the bed where she had been conceived. He pulled the covers over her; her mother sleepily snuggled against the small child, a tender age of 3. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek saying “Don’t you worry about a thing, you keep your mother company and I’ll be back soon.” The child was drifting off to sleep as he shut the kitchen door and headed to the truck through the cool night air. At the fire station, the volunteers were assembling, donning on fire boots and coats, warming up the engine to the tanker truck and preparing for their duty. David pulled up to the station and got the report, another field fire; common for this time of year. Most likely some idiot had been throwing a cigarette out of a car window that started the fire. The only difference was that there were people in the field, wandering through a maze in the darkness, lost and confused, he knew what they were up against. He knew there wasn’t much they could do. He pulled the truck out of the station and gunned the engine racing toward highway 41. He called for backup from neighboring counties. He would need all of the help he could get. Mike and the others fought their way through the almost unyielding stalks of corn, it was as if the corn taken on substance and body; determined not to let them go. The fire was closer now, stray sparks and flaming leaves of corn fell around them. Behind them the fire seemed to talk, roaring at first then wooing, taunting them as it came closer and closer. A stray burning leaf landed on lapel of Rodger’s Carhartt jacket, quickly setting it to smolder. In a panic, he threw the jacket to the ground stomping on it and cursing profusely. He yowled out in pain, the back of his neck was burned and the scent of burned flesh and hair hung heavily around him. Nancy looked back, grabbing his arm stating “C’mon lets get out of here and I’ll buy you a nice cold beer.” Rodger readily obeyed. Mike was fighting his way through the corn, he thought to himself about how much he hated corn; popcorn, creamed corn, corn on the cob, corn bread; he despised all forms of corn. He vowed to himself that if he got out of this he was never going to look at another ear of corn again. He was going to get his shit together and move so far away that he would never see it again, never. It was the red flash of sirens that pulled Mike out of his revere. In the distance, directly ahead of him, he could hear sirens, “Thank God, someone had called 9-1-1” he thought to himself. They were close now, close to the road; he picked up his pace encouraging the others to keep up. Beth and Jake crawled through the field on their bellies like snakes, the rough and sharp edges of the fallen ears of corn and leaves, nipping and their fragile skin. “I swear to you Lord, if you get us out of this, I’ll never smoke pot again. I’ll become a straight A student, I’ll dedicate my life to the priesthood” vowed Jake. Chrissie poked along behind them, her dress kept snagging on the fallen stalks, slowing her progress. It was almost as if the corn had hands and they reached out grabbing her, trying to hold her steadfast so that the fire could consume her. Harried, she pulled the violet gown of satin and lace over her head leaving it behind her, proceeding through the rough dirt and furrows in her bra and panties. The fire was dangerously close now, it popped and hissed behind her like some great monster; it threw sparks which landed on her legs; burning, and searing her flesh. She tried to ignore the pain as she struggled to keep up with the others. The smoke threatened choke her, her eyes watered, she gasped for breath, and she was dizzy and weak. She had to stop for a minute and rest; she lay down in the dirt, the furrow making a pillow for her head. She slipped into a dream of sorts; she didn’t struggle as the fire claimed her body. Forgetting about Chrissie, in a trance like survival mode, Jake and Beth crawled onward, staying just seconds in front of the fire. Laura lay on her back, looking up at the night sky; she could smell and see the smoke in the air and wondered where it was coming from. Beau, played with a lock of her hair, he was happy and had never known such bliss. It was better than he had anticipated, better than the porno’s that he snuck out of his dad’s bottom drawer, better than his friends had said. “Life is great” he thought to himself. He too smelled the smoke and wondered where it was coming from. He hopped up onto his feet and quickly discovered its source. “Grab your clothes, we gotta go now!” he exclaimed pulling Laura onto her feet and dragging her through the rows of corn. Her crown lay in the field forgotten. The fire melted the dazzling rhinestones and gold plate into a shimmering mass. The wind suddenly changed directions and picked up, turning the fire to find its next victim. Beau and Laura struggled as the fire lapped at them, teasing them in a fury of pain and suffering. Tears streamed down Laura’s face as she grabbed onto Beau who had already succumbed to the breathtaking smoke. “I love you” she said as the flames crept up her body, engulfing her hair, in agony she cried out, falling to the ground. Her last thought was of her crown, where had her crown gone? The Fire Department raced up the drive to the house, David bounded out, greeted by Old Man Jones. The old man gave sketchy details; he couldn’t recall how many people bought tickets and might still be in the maze. Even though the task was futile, the firemen hooked hoses up to the tanker and began to pour water onto the field. David instructed the men to take off their air packs; no one would be going into the field for rescue attempts. The fire had engulfed over half the field and was spreading rapidly, too rapidly to risk anyone’s life. Mike and his group stumbled onto the highway, they had made it out. At first, they weren’t sure exactly which road they were on or which way they should go. They began to walk, any direction was better than the one they had come from. Once they were a safe distance from the fire, they looked back. The flames shot high into the night sky, the smoke drowned out the light from the moon, making it look menacing and bleak. “How many more were in there, how many won’t make it out” Mike wondered to himself, he shuddered at the thought. All of the members of the group were lost in their own thoughts, glad to be alive, guilty to be living, pondering what to do with the enigma of being given a second chance. In silence, the group walked on. Beth and Jake crawled on for what seemed an eternity, no one else was with them, Jake’s cronies had disappeared into the smoke and flame. Finally, they reached the edge of the entrance, coughing and gasping for air. They felt strong hands grabbing them, pulling them from the edge of the field. They heard voices questioning them “How many were with you?” “Did you see anyone?” “How do you feel?” “Where are your parents?” Neither Jake nor Beth had answers to the onslaught of questions. They were silent, grateful to be alive. The emergency medical technicians, poked and prodded them, putting oxygen on them, starting IV lines, loading them into the backs of ambulances and transporting them to the local hospital for treatment. Neither one of them was capable of saying a word, both in an emotional shock. Neither one of them would ever say a word about that night again. Neither one of them would ever travel down that road again, ever. By the time the sun was rising in the autumn sky, the fire had burned itself out. Smoke rose from the smoldering ash, the rescue squads and other townspeople searched the ashes for survivors, more accurately, for bodies. Laura’s crown was found; it gleamed against the morning sun, catching the eye of a rescuer. It lay there silently glittering, casting off the reflection from the new day. The rescuer picked up the twisted metal and rhinestone declaration of victory and handed it to Laura’s mother, who had been crying since the police pounded on her door; delivering the grim news. No bodies were found, only the crown. No one knew exactly who or how many lives the fire had claimed. There were no dental records to research, no autopsies to be performed. Nothing. A small memorial service was held for Laura, her crown placed upon a pillow for showing, then buried in the local cemetery. Beau’s mother left town never to return, she wanted a fresh start and followed Mike on his adventure to the west coast. Chrissie’s family erected a monument at the school in memory of the students that were lost. Dozens of onlookers drove up and down highway 41 day and night for weeks. The highway was littered with flowers, cards, letters, and candles left in memory of those who had died. Old Man Jones and his wife put the property on the market and moved to Bakersville to live out the rest of their days in a senior housing project. Tales of Moore, Indiana The town was pretty much the same, yet had changed. Rosalie still tended bar, the regulars still came in to drink their beers, shoot pool, and tell their tales of “The Maze” as it became to be known. Of course, through the years, the story had been altered and embellished upon, and has faded into the category of urban; or in this case; rural legend. The field is now overgrown; the house was never sold and is in a disheveled condition; partly due to vandals, partly due to the cruel Indiana summers and even harsher winters. It is rumored that on that night, when the harvest moon hangs high in the night sky, one can still hear their screams of agony, smell the smoke and pungent scent of burning corn and flesh, and if you look carefully, one can see the Queen of the Harvest Moon wandering through the overgrowth as she searches for her lost crown.