A Rage To Burn

The five-gallon gas can was in the bed of the old gray pickup truck. A pack of cigarettes rested in his shirt chest pocket. A book of matches in his pant pocket. Old newspapers lay on the passenger’s side of the truck seat. It was dark enough to get the job done.

Leroy Stanford Jackson had had enough. The anger which had always been a part of him was at the boiling point. On this night, the man, who in his mind, so many people had passed over was about to get revenge. That revenge would come at the hands of all who worked at the sawmill.

There were reasons why Leroy was angry. The list had grown over his twenty-seven years of working at the mill. Years that began the summer after graduation from high school. But this latest slight was the worst. Passed over for the supervisor’s job for the third time was three times too many.

Leroy felt he had given his life to the mill. He had never once been late for work. Took vacations only at times when he knew the workload would not be a burden to others. Done every job asked of him. Come in to work on days when he felt miserable. There was no one more loyal to the mill than him. 

But Leroy had an anger problem. He did not stand or tolerate everyone and everything. If he thought something was not right, he spoke up. If he did not like the way someone was doing their job he told them. If he did not like the way the boss ran things he let him know. And he was not nice in doing it. To Leroy there was only one way to get a point across and that was loud and demonstrative. And, though it never happened, if it meant getting physical he would.

After serving ten years for the company Leroy felt he had the experience and no-how to become supervisor. He applied for the position when it became open, but it went to someone else. A worker who had been there longer than him. When he reapplied ten years later it was much the same.

But this time was different. Instead of someone with years of experience, a college man who had only been with the company three years got the position. A man who could not do half of the things Leroy could do. A man who was book smart, but not work smart.

When he did not get the promotion the first two times, Leroy was angry but understood. He figured if the people in charge knew something about the business everything would be all right. His anger still boiled, but the men in charge knew him. Knew he was quick to become extremely angry. 

They also knew that he was an important part of the company and others relied on him. Leroy was not irreplaceable, but he was steady and dependable. And he cared about his job. All in charge knew that everyone did not have these traits and men like Leroy were getting harder and harder to find. So, they put up with his anger and temper tantrums.

Others who worked with Leroy had tried to tell him that part of the reason for him not becoming supervisor was his temper. If he could just tone it down, they would tell him, then maybe he would get the promotion. Leroy would listen and sometimes agree, but his stubbornness always got in the way.

That stubbornness may have cost him another shot at supervisor. Maybe not. Leroy did not care anymore. All he wanted was revenge.

As he got into his truck and started it, Leroy thought of all the things he would have changed as supervisor. No longer would people come in late without a reason. No longer would they be able to take extended lunches and coffee breaks. No longer would they take days off without a valid excuse. All of this to him was a waste of company time.

Leroy backed the truck up out of his driveway and onto the main road. The mill was about a half hour away from his house. After closing time there would be no one there but one night security guard. Leroy knew the man well and figured he would get into the mill without any fuss. If the man caused any trouble Leroy had placed his pistol on the seat. If he had to use it, he would. 

He drove with the radio off. Leroy often did this when he was angry. It allowed him the opportunity to think of all the wrongs he felt done to him. Wrongs that had begun in childhood with his family. Had grown greater with so called friends. How his teachers had never really thought he would amount to anything. Any and every slight crossed his mind. 

Often when he did this, Leroy would talk to himself. The anger would spew out in curses. Tonight, the anger and curses were for anyone associated with the mill. Tonight, he would take care of all business. Tomorrow, he said to himself, there will be no extended coffee breaks. The long lunches will end. The days of skipping work will end. Because by morning there would be no sawmill left.

As he got closer to the mill, Leroy thought of how easy it would be to pour the gas, light a cigarette, smoke it for a bit then toss it into the fuel. He knew just the place to do it. On the back end of the mill near the wooded area. By the time he got into his truck and out the gate it would be too late for the night security guard to stop him, and he would be gone.

Consequences? What were they? Leroy did not really care or think of any. Tomorrow would take care of itself. Right now, it was all about getting back at all who had wronged him. The more he thought of his plan, the more excited he got. The closer he got to the mill the more confident he became.

Then it happened.

About five miles from his destination, Leroy’s old pickup began to sputter and stall. What could be wrong, he thought. The truck had just gotten a tune up weeks ago.

As the truck continued to sputter Leroy guided it off the road and into a nearby parking lot. Just as he nursed it to a safe resting place it cut off. Leroy turned the key once. Twice. Nothing. Then he looked at the gas hand. In his haste to get to the mill he had forgotten that the truck’s gas tank was low. Leroy had never thought to check it. What angry man would?

Now it was empty.

And as luck would have it, the area in which Leroy lived had no open stores or gas stations after eight o’clock. Leroy had enough gas on the back of his truck to get him home, but his plan to burn down the mill was all but ruined. 

Leroy gave up turning the key and turned his wrath upon the steering wheel. He pounded it with both hands and cursed the truck, the mill, and everything he knew. His curses were so loud and the pounding so fierce a man standing on the steps of the parking lot’s building heard them. The man came down the steps and walked toward the truck. When Leroy stopped cursing and pounding the man wrapped on the driver’s side window.

Not knowing that there was anyone around Leroy became startled at first. Then he looked at the man outside the window. Leroy felt that this was no time for anyone to bother him.

“ Yea, what do you want,” he said as he rolled down the window.

“I saw you in your frustration,” said the man. Dressed in a suit and tie he was exceptionally clean cut. “It looks like you’ve run out of gas, and I was wondering if you needed any help.”

“Yea, I ran out of gas,” said Leroy wondering how a man in a suit and tie could help. “I’ve got enough in the can on the back of my truck to get home though. I’m okay.”

“Well for a man who seems to be okay, you most certainly seem angry,” said the man. “Would you like to come inside and talk for a bit?”

“No,” said Leroy. “I just want to fill up the tank and go home.”

“Well, I would rather you not go home angry,” said the man. “At least not without having an opportunity to talk to someone. What harm would it do? You can go home angry whether we talk or not.”

Leroy looked at the man and thought about it. Yes, it was true that he was going to go home angry. No, he did not think that talking to the man would change anything. But the frustration of not being able to conduct his plan was so great he just wanted to stew for a bit. Why not stew inside with the man where no one could see him?

“Okay,” said Leroy. “I’ll come inside.” He opened the door to his truck and got out. The man said nothing as they walked to the building with Leroy still cursing his fate.

Just as they got to the steps Leroy looked up at the entrance. Above the door were the words “The Christian Church of Our Lord.”

Leroy stared at the words in silence. He had run out of gas right in front of a church. A place that he had avoided for years because he had no faith in God. Now in all his anger and rage Leroy’s pickup truck had guided him right to its doorstep.

After a long silence, Leroy looked at the man beside him. The man in the suit and tie was none other than the pastor of “The Christian Church of Our Lord” the Reverend Alfred T. Stone. 

Pastor Stone looked at Leroy and said, “Let’s go inside.”

They walked up the church steps. Pastor Stone unlocked the door. And they walked in.

And that was the door which opened the way for Leroy Stanford Jackson to receive salvation and fulfill his destiny.

His destiny as Pastor Leroy Stanford Jackson of Trinity Christian Church.