‘Call it an insurance policy,’ Whitlam shouted. The spark fluttered as his outstretched arm shook.
‘Scott,’ Raco yelled. ‘You stupid bastard. You’ll have us all with that. You included.’
‘Then shoot me, if you’re going to. But I’ll drop it.’
Falk shifted his weight and the leaves and branches under his feet cracked and snapped. Two years without decent rainfall and now doused in alcohol. They were standing on a matchbox. Somewhere behind them, invisible but linked by an unbroken chain of gums and grass, lay the school and the town. Fire would barrel along that chain like a bullet train, he knew. It surged and jumped and gorged itself. It raced like an animal. It ravaged with inhuman efficiency.
Raco’s arms were shaking as he trained the pistol on Whitlam. He turned his head a fraction towards Falk.
‘Rita’s somewhere down there.’ His voice was low and his teeth clenched. ‘I will shoot him dead before I let him light this place up.’
Falk thought of Raco’s vivacious wife, weighed down by her pregnancy, and raised his voice.
‘Scott. There’s no chance of you getting out of here if that flame hits the ground. You know that. You’ll be burned alive.’
Whitlam’s head jerked in a tiny spasm at the suggestion and the lighter jolted in his hand. Falk sucked in a sharp breath, and Raco took half a step back and swore.
‘Christ, bloody watch that thing, will you?’ Raco shouted.
‘Just stay back,’ Whitlam said, regaining control. ‘Put your gun down.’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t got a choice. I’ll drop it.’
‘Close the lighter.’
‘You first. Gun down.’
Raco wavered, his finger white on the trigger. He glanced at Falk, then reluctantly bent and placed his gun on the ground. Falk didn’t blame him. He’d seen what bushfires could do. A neighbour had lost his home and forty sheep one summer when a controlled burn had got out of hand. Falk and his father had tied rags across their faces and armed themselves with hoses and buckets as the noon sky turned red and black. The sheep had squealed until they hadn’t anymore. The fire had screamed and roared like a banshee. It was terrifying. It was a flash of hell. The land was drier now than it had been then. This would be no slow burn.
In front of them, Whitlam was flipping the lighter open and closed like a toy. Raco followed the action in mesmerised horror, fists clenched. The helicopter hovered directly overhead, and in his peripheral vision Falk could see a handful of orange vests dotted in the trees. They’d been warned to keep their distance, no doubt.
‘So you worked it out then?’ Whitlam sounded more interested than angry. ‘The trust money.’
He flicked the lighter open and this time left it burning. Falk’s heart sank. He tried not to look at the flame.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I should’ve seen it before. But you hid the gambling well.’
Whitlam sniggered, an odd, sinister little noise whipped away by the wind. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice at that. Sandra warned me. She said I’d pay for it one day. Hey –’
Whitlam pointed the lighter at them and Raco made a primitive sound in the back of his throat.
‘Listen. Sandra had nothing to do with this, right? She knows about some of the gambling, but she didn’t know how bad it was. Or about anything else. Promise me you understand that.She didn’t know.Not about the school funds. Or the Hadlers.’
His voice stumbled at the mention of the family and he sucked in a sharp breath.
‘And I’m sorry about the little boy. Billy.’ Whitlam winced as he said the child’s name. He looked down and pushed the lighter lid closed. Falk felt a first flutter of hope.
‘I never thought Billy would get hurt. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. I need you to believe me. I tried to keep him safe. I want Sandra to know that.’
‘Scott,’ Falk said. ‘Why don’t you come with us, mate, and we can go and find Sandra and tell her that.’
‘As if she’ll have anything to do with me now. After what I’ve done.’ Whitlam’s cheeks shone with tears and sweat. ‘I should have let her leave me years ago, when she first wanted to. Let her take Danielle and get far away from me and be safe. But I didn’t and now it’s too late.’
He wiped his hand over his face and Raco seized the chance to reach towards his gun.
‘Oi!’
