‘Come with me. And don’t get more than a metre away from me at any time. Got it?’
‘Got it.’ Her voice was muffled through her mask.
They took up positions on either side of the narrow track, just ahead of the moving flames. The soil was dry and powdery, and Justin dug his shovel in and tossed a load onto the front of the flames. They instantly died back. He glanced at Anna, who nodded her understanding and dug her shovel into the soil to mimic his actions. He swung the shovel again. There wasn’t a lot of wind, but it was enough to keep the fire moving. The two of them couldn’t hold it back, no matter how hard they swung those shovels. Help needed to arrive soon.
***
Ben could see the fire in the distance. He was driving the Wagtail Ridge truck and was a few minutes ahead of the other trucks that were coming from Scone. He was driving hard, his foot heavy on the pedal. His twin brother was out there somewhere. Alone. That was not good. Fighting fires was a team effort and a man on his own could get hurt. Or worse.
He flexed his fingers and convinced himself that Justin would be fine. After all, he was the sensible one. He was something of a legend among the firefighters too. To hear them talk, Justin should be able to get this little event under control all on his own. It wasn’t a very big fire. Yet.
As the road became rougher, he was forced to slow down, then he crested a ridge and braked. Justin’s car was parked on the side of the road, leaving room for the fire trucks to move through. How like his brother. Ben drove past the car and pulled up where he needed to be, as close to the fire as was safe. He flung himself out of the car.
‘Justin!’ There was no answer.
Ben flicked on the radio attached to his jacket and tried again. ‘Justin.’
There was no answer. Of course not. Justin had been out somewhere. He wouldn’t have a radio with him.
‘Justin!’ His yell seemed like a whisper against the sounds of the fire.
‘Here.’
The voice did not come from his radio.
Ben’s pent-up breath exploded in a sigh of relief. He watched his brother emerging from the smoke ahead, silhouetted against the glow of the fire. Justin was not wearing the protective gear that he kept with him at all times.
‘The Scone team is a few minutes out.’ Ben stopped talking as he realised Justin was not alone.
The person with Justin was smaller, and almost drowned by the large protective jacket with the name Turner clearly visible on the front. Ben had no idea who was hidden beneath the helmet. All he could see was a bit of blonde hair and a lot of sweat and dirt from wielding a shovel. Then she pulled down the mask and the first thing he saw was the scar.
‘Anna?’
‘Hi, Ben.’ She was breathing heavily from a combination of smoke and exertion.
Before they could say anything else, the beam of approaching headlights split the darkness. The Scone fire truck pulled up next to them.
‘You can drive in about forty metres. It’s not as bad as I first thought. Get the hoses on it and you should have it,’ Justin told them.
The driver nodded and drove forward.
‘Righto.’ Ben swung himself back into his truck. ‘You two take a break. We’ve got it.’
‘Be safe.’
As the truck moved forward, Ben saw his brother and Anna exchange a few quick words. Then they hefted their shovels over their shoulders and followed. Ben shrugged. His brother was a firefighter before all other things. As for Anna …
The truck had stopped near the flames and Ben could see shadowy shapes running hoses from the water tank on the back. In a matter of minutes, water was pouring onto the worst of the flames and they died back. Ben felt a change in the wind and nodded. This would be under control before the night was out.
Anna appeared at his side and pulled down her mask. ‘I need a pair of pliers. Quickly.’
Instinctively, Ben turned to the tool kit on the side of the truck. It took just a few seconds to unlock it and find the pliers. He hesitated. She was, after all, a civilian. He couldn’t have her doing the wrong thing. ‘What needs doing?’
‘I have to cut through a fence.’ She pulled the pliers from his grasp before he could respond.
‘Wait. Let me see—’ She was gone.
He followed her into the swirling smoke. Lost sight of her, then spotted her. She was ahead of a slow-moving line of fire, climbing through a fence. Briefly, amid the swirling smoke and the flicker of flame in the darkness, she seemed different. Older. Heavier. The protective jacket had been replaced by an old sweatshirt and she ran towards the fire clutching not a pair of pliers, but a blanket.Mum!
