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The fire dancers moved out and put on a tremendous show. It never fails
to astound me, see dozens and dozens of people juggling fire. When they
were done, I waited until the dancers were settled down in a line a dozen
or so yards inward from the perimeter. That was where I moved forward and
repositioned myself. From my vantage point, I could see every Sandman in
two quadrants.
Flares went off up and down the Man’s limbs. Rockets went off, and
huge sparklers erupted all along the edge of the flying saucer. As fireworks
exploded overhead, I started feeling tiny fragments of debris falling down
on my skin. I put on my dust goggles. I could see flickers of flame inside
the structure. A gasoline bomb exploded into a fireball from inside the
Man’s chest, followed by more explosions. When the base itself became engulfed
in flames, the heat fell on us like a curtain. It was like the heat from
an open stove, except this stove was a city block wide.
I said to the fire dancers, “We might think about moving back—“ and
just then, the wind brought a wave of hot, fiery embers straight at us.
Behind me, people on the perimeter were quickly backing away as the fire
dancers scrambled to their feet. I fell back to the BLM vehicles parked
on the perimeter while many people disappeared back into the darkness.
Chunks of flaming wood the size of paperback books were flying through
the air. It was like a Midwestern hailstorm, except the sky was filled
with hot, red embers. I’d always heard of a “rain of fire,” but I never
thought I’d see one. It was a sight I will never forget as long as I live. |
