Fire was like a disease, infecting the body of the land with little provocation. Dousing the flames didn’t stop tiny embers flying through the air, whipped up by the wild winds, only to set something else alight. These big old gum trees had stood here for years, so many years, but the lack of rains in the last few years meant they dropped leaves and branches everywhere in an attempt to survive. That raised the fuel load, but also meant the tree itself was vulnerable, with little internal moisture to protect itself from the flames.
Which meant we needed to step in.
“On it!” Billy shouted, and that’s when he made a near fatal mistake.
Gum trees in Australia can grow into massive things. Year after year, the dense wood accumulated, growing into trees whose branches raked the sky. Cutting them down was a bitch of a job. The wood seemed determined to challenge even the most overpowered chainsaw, let alone an axe.
But they had one insidious habit.
Widow makers, that’s what some of the early British settlers called them. Going to sleep in the shade of these massive trees, some never woke up. Gum trees drop heavy boughs with little warning, crushing anyone and anything under it.
And my brother was about to become its next victim.
That crack, it had my eyes jerking up, just in time to see a branch sag slightly. Fire ignored, I tore forward when I saw who was under it.
“Billy…!”
My hand was on the back of his jacket and I was jerking him backwards with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. A shout, a glare my way and my brother was about to snap something at me, right as the bough hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
“Fuck…”
Heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins, but not knowing where it was supposed to go, I just stood there. Billy stared at me and I stared right back. He was a bee’s dick from becoming a bloody smear on the ground and I did not, could not, find a way to conceptualise that.
“Fire’s not out!” Bronson shouted and that had us turning around.
Mind on the job, I thought furiously, directing the water stream, but it didn’t work. My brain was way too good at coming up with other scenarios, ones where I wasn’t there to step in and stop my brother from doing something stupid. Trying my best to shove them to one side, I forced myself to focus on the fire. The heat, the ferocious crackle, the sounds of the resin in the trees’ trunks exploding helped me keep my eye on the prize.
But those worries laid in wait like feral dogs, ready to jump out and nip at my heels the minute the immediate threat was neutralised.
“Thanks, mate.” Old man Simpson was at the gate, a pale looking Kate clutching a garden hose behind him. Why the hell he’d put her through this, I’d never know.
Or maybe I did.
Charlie, Scotty, they were still back at home and so was Mackenzie. My teeth ground together so hard I was sure they would crack, right as Simpson went around the crowd of volunteer fire fighters, thanking them for their hard work.
“Come and have a beer,” he said. “It’s the least we can do.”
“I need to get back.” Jamie looked my way, then nodded, because while everyone else was filing into the Simpson house, I knew where I needed to be. “The farm…”
“Yeah, right, of course, mate,” Jamie said, then clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping out.”
“Billy.” My brother looked up from where Kate was handing him a beer can. “You and Bronson can grab a lift home?”
People volunteered to drive them back, because that’s what our community did. Helping each other was the only way to survive. Turning my back on the impromptu party was no great hardship, because once the immediate danger was over, the other possibilities pushed themselves forward, willing me to consider them. Charlie, Scotty, the stock, the farm, but once I’d run through the list of things I was supposed to care about, I landed here.
Mackenzie.
Her, sitting on the bed with one of the joeys in her arms. The way her eyes went wide, her skin too pale, then her nod when I told her what was happening. My heart wanted to believe there was real concern there. Probably because the minute the heat wave was announced, all I wanted to do was get Mackenzie the hell out of here. I couldn’t stand the worry that ate at my guts. Bushfires happened with little warning and God knew where they’d start and where they’d finish. I’d seen houses burned tothe ground, paddocks of stock decimated, their shrill screams still haunting me.
I did not want my girl near any of that.
Now the fire was out, I was free to put the pedal to the metal. The car hurtled down the road, getting me closer and closer to the farm, but not fast enough. The sight of our boundary fences, of Wally’s field, of the house was a welcome one, but not what I needed. Throwing myself out of the car, I strode over to the rescue and wrenched open the door, sure I’d see Mackenzie sitting there with all the animals clustered around her.
Because we’d talked about this.
The plan was she was going to stay with the rescue animals until she was given the all clear or an order to evacuate was in place. The only way I could get through all of this was if I knew exactly where she was. So stepping into the rescue and seeing cages, animals, the food bench and not one person had my heart dropping through the floor.
“Mackenzie?” I said, hoping she was off cleaning a cage or something. “Mackenzie?” Joeys hopped out of the brush, took one look at me and dismissed me as a possible food source, before going back to where they were doing. “Mackenzie!”
