(Prompt photo by Andreas Fidler on Unsplash.com)

Ken pulled off his damp teeshirt, dragged his chair underneath the ceiling fan, and flopped down, wearing only his wet board-shorts. He stretched out sandy feet and closed his eyes, the wind from the fan ruffling his auburn hair and temporarily drying the sweat on his forehead. He wished for the hundredth time that he had invested in air-conditioning, but it was too late now, in the middle of a heat wave. He doubted there would be any units left in stock anywhere in the city. Even the pedestal fans had sold out two days ago at his local shopping centre.

He'd gone down to the beach for a swim that morning, just after dawn and come home as soon as the temperature reached 37 C. At about 9 am. The water's edge was already lined with people‒many of them elderly‒walking back and forth between the Grange and Henley jetties with their feet in the water. Others were swimming or merely sitting in the sea to cool down. Occasionally, someone would throw a tennis ball in the water for their dog to chase, creating much splashing and doggy excitement.

By 10 am, it was too hot, even for the beach.

On his way home, he had seen thick clouds of smoke hovering above the city as if there had been an explosion. Graphic evidence, not of an explosion, but of a disaster nevertheless.

Even here at home, he could smell the distinctive scent of burning eucalyptus. Although he was safely inside the house with the windows shut, smoke whispered through air vents and under doors, carried west from the bushfire raging out of control in the hills behind the city. It had been burning since yesterday evening, ignited by one of the hundreds of lightning bolts which had struck the ground all over the state. The sky had been blue black with thunderclouds, crackling with thunder and lightning and maybe a total of two drops of rain had fallen. Dry lightning they called it.

Ken was pretty sure the clothes hoist in their backyard had been struck by a lightning bolt, but as it was still in one piece, there didn't seem to have been too much damage.

In a minute he'd get up and have a cold shower and change, but before that he needed to check if there were any messages from his partner, Jerry. He flipped open his phone. Nothing. He tried not to let it worry him, he knew it was unrealistic to expect Jerry to call him today of all days but he couldn't help hoping. Maybe there would be some current news on the TV. He reached for the remote and turned on the 24 Hour news channel.

It was the hottest day for years, the thermometer climbing past 46 C. Currently there were fifteen bushfires burning around the state.

The picture of a large house surrounded by burnt trees filled the screen. "Earlier today, Marshall House had a narrow escape from the flames," announced the commentator. "A crew of more than fifty Country Fire Service volunteers worked all night to protect the National Trust property." The camera switched to a scene from the previous evening. Orange flames covered the ground, burning stumps glowed like jewels in the dark, grey smoke billowed between the trees; all rather beautiful if you didn't know what it was.

The camera showed a smartly dressed woman in a blue power-suit, looking earnestly into the lens. "The fire near Mount Barker is still burning out of control, threatening livestock and property. Residents of Mount Barker have been advised to leave their homes now. A catastrophic fire warning has been issued for the entire Adelaide Hills."

Ken found he was sitting up straight, balancing on the edge of his seat. Mount Barker. That was where Jerry had been going today.

The picture moved to a shot of androgynous figures in yellow suits. Ken peered uselessly at the screen. Was one of them Jerry? He couldn't tell.

If only he could have been out there with him, protecting Jerry's back, but he knew it wasn't possible. Although Ken was also a member of the volunteer Country Fire Service‒helping with the administrative work‒his damned asthma prevented him from taking an active role in fire fighting. He would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

Ken sat glued to the television set. He knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he heard from Jerry; no‒he wouldn't be able to relax until Jerry was safely home.

Jerry was looking at a scene from Hell. Cliché though it was, Hell was simply the only word to describe what was in front of him. Bright flames engulfed the trees, turned the grass to ash and sent sparks into the sky in greedy search for more prey. Smoke filled the air and crept inside his mask to form black runnels of sweat down his cheeks. But the worst thing was the noise. A roar, like waves pounding at the base of a cliff, battered his ears as the main fire front clawed and leapt its way towards them.

Jerry rolled his aching shoulders inside the yellow suit and shifted the hose a little to the right, aiming it at the base of the fire. Sara was at his back, helping carry the heavy weight, keeping a watchful eye out to make sure the fire didn't get behind them. They had been working on this front for what seemed like hours but the fire was as fierce as ever. Like every person on the team, Jerry was praying for the promised cool change to come early. Preferably, right now.

A poisonous brown snake slithered over his boot, too intent on escape to pose a threat. Jerry couldn't bear to think of all the animals that would die today. Kookaburras and kangaroos had the best chance, but koalas couldn't move fast enough. Sara handed him a bottle of water. "I'd kill for a cold beer right now," she said, "but this is the best I've got."

"Thanks!" Jerry summoned up a grin he didn't know he had in him. He gulped down a couple of mouthfuls before handing it back, then took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders again, and took a firmer grip on the hose. Only another couple of hours until they could have a break.

Exhausted, they leant against the side of the truck taking their half-hour break, gulping down slightly grubby sandwiches and guzzling water. Sara had taken off her helmet and poured a bottle of water over her head, wishing futilely that she could risk taking off her protective suit for a minute. Her hair glistened wetly for all of two minutes before it dried.

Lightning flashed overhead, but the roll of thunder was drowned out by the roar of the fire. A bolt of lightning hit the ground about ten metres in front of the truck, making both of them jump.

"Shit!"

"That was a bit too close for comfort!" agreed Jerry.

"What's that? On the ground where the lightning hit?" asked Sara, pointing.

"What? Oh, that. Looks like metal of some sort. Hang on for a second, I want a closer look," said Jerry directing the hose at the object. There was a hiss of steam about a metre high. When it cleared, Jerry could see a long silver bar shining brightly in the ash.

"What on earth?" he exclaimed as he bent to pick up the object. "It's like those weapons the police have, what do they call them? Expandable batons." He passed it across to Sara, who hefted it in one hand then swirled it around expertly.

"Where do you think it came from?"

"The sky?" he joked. "I've heard that lightning can melt metal, but it wouldn't produce anything like this. It must have been here before, we just didn't see it."

Sara examined the object for a moment longer then passed the baton back to Jerry.

He stroked his hand lightly up the length of it, exploring. He couldn't feel a button or an indentation but evidently he hit something because suddenly the baton extended into a metre long shining rod.

"Wow!" said Sara.

Jerry gave a surprised laugh. "It looks like something from Star Wars."

He took up a pose and brandished the baton at the fire burning on the other side of the gully. "Die..."his voice trailed away as the fire went out. All at once, as if the oxygen had been sucked out of it.

They exchanged looks of sheer disbelief.

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know. Has the wind changed?"

"Not from where I'm standing."

They both looked at the silver baton in Jerry's hand.

"Try it again," said Sara.

With a nervous laugh, Jerry looked around for another glimpse of fire, but he could only see smoke.

"I'm sure it was just coincidence, but I'll take it along with us on our next stint," said Jerry. "Just in case."

Ken needed a distraction and some fresh, if hot, air. Watching the news was just making him anxious and depressed. At least Jerry had managed to send him a quick text during his break to say he was safe.

Ken wandered outside to gaze worriedly at the drooping garden. It was far too hot to water anything yet. The sun was fierce on his bare back, he could almost feel his skin starting to peel as he stood there. He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the intensity.

The noisy crashing from the bottle factory over the road intruded on the heat-enforced quiet. He knew he shouldn't complain, he enjoyed a glass of wine as much as the next person, but he wished it didn't have to be so near. Or so noisy. The owners had promised to replace the sheet iron fence with a five metre high protective wall but so far nothing had eventuated.

Enough of the outdoors. He had his hand on the back door when he remembered the clothes hoist. He'd just have a quick look, see if there had been any damage. Looking up to check if any of the wires had melted, he stubbed his toes painfully on a metal rod lying on the lawn.

"Shit! Who left that there?" he demanded crossly as he picked it up. Suddenly, it extended into a metre long silver rod. Ken yelped in surprise and dropped it.

Then he laughed. Jerry must have bought the rod as a joke. Ken picked it up again, liking how smooth it felt in his hand. He wondered if the rod glowed in the dark, or played a tune or something when you shook it. He played around with it for a few more moments but nothing happened except, thank heavens, the glass factory appeared to have finished for the day. No more noise. They must have had an early closure because of the heat. Ken placed the rod carefully on the back verandah and went inside to watch some more TV.

The silver space ship hovered invisibly over the sweltering city of Adelaide. Its two occupants took one last look at planet Earth before the ship disappeared up beyond the stratosphere.

They had done the best they could.

A full cargo hold of rods had been dispersed around the globe; Adelaide, the hottest city on the planet that day, being the last stop. Once activated, the field emitted by the rods would radiate out to eliminate all the bushfires within a matter of hours. The shortest alien smiled to itself at the thought of how grateful the humans would be.

Though of course, bushfires weren't the only heat sources the energy-eaters would consume.

Like fire, the energy-eaters had more than one use.