“Troy.” Jamie nodded to me, then Billy and Bronson. “Most of the crew is at the big one in the forest, but another’s started at the Simpson’s place. One of the paddocks has gone up and we need to get out there, stop the fire before it can spread to other properties.”
Including ours.
For once I was glad the Argyles were our neighbours. They kept the soil moisture high with all the watering they did of their grass. Keeping their horses in fodder year round would help protect our own place.
“Have the Simpsons been evacuated?” I asked.
The way Jamie’s lips thinned, then his eyes creased told me I would not like the answer.
“Old man Simpson wants to stay and defend.”
“Silly old goat…” I muttered, shaking my head.
Ned Simpson and his wife, Kate, had to be pushing seventy at least. Why the hell he’d put his wife in danger like that…? It felt like my heart stopped for a second, before remembering how to beat. Leaving Mackenzie at home had taken real effort, going against every damn instinct I had. My heart wanted me to stay right by her side, throwing her in the car and driving away from the farm, anything, the minute danger reared its ugly head.
Instead, I was here, making sure the district was safe.
“Everyone move out now,” Jamie continued, then started giving orders about which man was going in which truck as we headed out towards the fire.
“Let’s get this done!”
Billy jumped out of the back of the truck he was travelling in before it even came to a stop, yanking on his firefighting jacket seconds later. His grin, the wild look in his eyes had me growling.
“Get your head in the game,” I snapped, heading over to the back of the truck and starting to uncoil the hoses.
Bronson was already there doing the exact same thing and when he nodded at me, his grim expression was what I needed to see. I’d been a member of the CFS since I was a kid, riding with Dad when he answered the call, and working at the station as a cadet. When he and all the other men returned after fighting a fire, I’d stared at their grimy faces, saw the flash of their white teeth as they smiled. Heroes, every single one of them, that’s what I’d thought at the time, but now I knew differently. Just men and women who knew that the only way to survive an Australian summer was to be willing to fight for aland we loved. I clapped Bronson on the shoulder as we both ran forward, ready to face down the wall of flames.
God, how I hated bushfires.
Hot, hotter still as the sun beat down on backs covered by thick firefighting uniforms, the fire was like a greedy animal, devouring everything in its wake. A quick glance around showed me just how many paddocks had already gone up. Thankfully, there was no stock trapped there, because the dry, yellow grass had transformed into a blackened wasteland.
We just had to make sure that the rest of the farm didn’t go up as well.
Someone yelled that the water was being turned on. My muscle memory kicked in, making sure my grip was correct, my legs, my body braced for the rush of water down the hose. Pulling the bale up, releasing the water, was a relief of sorts, right up until the stream came out.
Each burst of water seemed too thin, too weak to do a damn thing about the fire, but I remembered my training. Dad by my side, hand on my shoulder, telling me what to do.
“Aim for the ground, son. Douse the fire at its roots and the land around it. Deprive it of heat, oxygen, everything that feeds it.”
My brows drew down hard, because the memory wasn’t a welcome thing anymore. Couldn’t go thinking about my father, not when I had a job to do. A glance sideways and I saw Bronson was standing a way off from me, Billy to the left. Dad might not be the hero we needed, but us Drysdale men would step up and fill that gap.
“Spot fire by the trees!” someone yelled.
I dragged my eyes away from the dying grass fire regretfully. Every drop in the flames made my heart beat harder, truer. Embers had wafted over to a stand of gum trees, only to land inthe thick leaf litter below, which was exactly the thing I did not want to see.
“On it!” I shouted back, legs and heart pounding as I pulled back, running the hose over to the trees.
Just in time to see the flames erupt.
Licking the trunk, chewing through the long strands of too-dry bark, the flames moved too fast to believe. With a blink, I started forward and so did my brothers.
“Billy—”
“I know!”
His stream hit higher up the trunk, trying to soak the heat stressed tree trunk, right as I doused the leaf litter, in an attempt to stop the fire from spreading. Bronson focussed on the flames themselves. Watching the flames die was a relief, but of course, that wasn’t the end of it.
“Canopy!” I shouted.
