Crossings

by Ashley Capes

  Robert muttered as he drove, taking corners with sharp jerks of the wheel as he pushed the limits of a safe speed. He slowed at the steep slope.

  “Will we make it?” Lisa asked. She glanced through the smudges on the back window. Was that a red glow back beyond the trees? Or just the eerie light of a smothered sun?

  “I think so,” he said, rolling down the hill.

  “What if the road’s cut?”

  “Fire’s still north of us.”

  The smoke eased when Jennings Lane exited onto the highway, where Robert slammed the brakes on. Lisa was whipped forward, giving a shout when the seat belt dug into her shoulder. A log truck screamed down the hill, chains on the load clanging against the bunks. Robert clenched the wheel. “That was close.”

  “Keep going.”

  “What about your car?”

  “Damn it.” It was still hidden near the – something dark loomed at the edge of her vision. She spun in her seat. The dark shape slammed into the ute, rocking the one-tonne vehicle. Lisa flinched with a cry. The bloodied kangaroo! It wheeled then leant back on its tail, delivering a massive kick with both powerful hind legs. Glass shattered and she whipped her head to the side as fragments filled the cab.

  “Drive!”

  Robert slammed the pedal to the floor and the vehicle lurched onto the asphalt. She leant out the empty window, dragging hair from her eyes. The kangaroo bounded after them. Blood slipped from various wounds, a huge chunk of flesh missing from the chest. It was keeping pace with the ute. Easily over sixty kilometres an hour – impossible.

  “Faster.”

  “Are you okay?”

  The ute picked up speed, engine roaring, and the kangaroo began to recede into the smoke that covered the road, covered the bush. Yet it didn’t stop hopping after them. A regular kangaroo wouldn’t have been able to manage even forty kilometres over a short distance, let alone stay within sight for such a long time.

  Robert skidded around a sharp bend and she pulled back. In the mirror, the dark kangaroo was gone. Only the smouldering red sky flashing between trees.

  “Lisa?” He wheezed, fumbling with a water bottle he’d found from somewhere. “Is it there?”

  “No. Did you see it?”

  “It kept up with us for a little while.” He handed her the bottle.

  She drank; warm water but still a blessing. “I know.”

  Robert’s grip on the wheel turned his knuckles white. “How can it be real?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

  He didn’t say anything. Lisa lay back in the seat, gripping the rifle. Her throat burned, even her nose was raw. How many bullets had the roo taken and still it chased them. Was Ben driving it on? It couldn’t be just his rage anymore – there had to be something else, the kangaroo itself. After all, he’d spared her – hadn’t he? Unless it was the kangaroo who tried to stop Ben. Were the two now one and the same?

  The outskirts of Lidelson were just as smoke-smothered as the road itself, homes shrouded in shadow.

  “Hurry,” she said. “I need to check the house.”

  “Is the kangaroo still following us?”

  She glanced at the mirror. Only smoke and patches of green. “I don’t know – if it is, it won’t be too far behind.”

  “We’ll go to the oval after – that’s the assembly point, right?”

  She opened her mouth to answer but stopped. “No. You should go to the river.”

  “What?”

  “Behind the pub. It’ll be safe.”

  “Not the oval?”

  “It just feels right, okay?”

  “And where are you going?”

  “Yarsdale.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I have to try.”

  The radio continued to hiss and buzz but she left it on, just in case something useful came through. Buildings loomed as Robert pulled the ute into the main street, each home or shopfront tinted crimson in the new darkness. People were loading baskets and tossing belongings into cars – those few that remained. A small boy tugged on the lead of a Jack Russell. Shops had been closed up – the Bakery’s ever-present glowing sign for ‘open’ was dark. “Look, what if the road’s cut off?” Robert said.

  “I can’t just leave him there – who knows how close the fire is?”

  “It’s close to us, that’s how close it is. And the hospital will be the first place evacuated if it comes to that.”

  “What if something goes wrong?”

  He waved a hand at the radio as he turned into a back street. “Check.”

  She fiddled with the tuning but nothing was clear. The broadcast seemed to be running through areas to the west. By the time they’d checked on Robert’s place and he’d returned from inside with a photo album and a computer the day had darkened further. Ash lay heavy in the air, coating her tongue it seemed.

  “Do we even have time for my place?” she called over the wind. It was almost hot enough to dry the sweat as it formed. The inside of the ute was littered with black and grey flecks of ash.

  “We’ll try.”

  Chambers Street was empty – a pram lay overturned in a front yard and Mrs Anderson’s screen door rattled in the wind. A film of ash coated the front step when Lisa burst inside, kicking at boots in the hall as she dashed for her own laptop. In the study she snatched a photo of her and Mum and Dad from the wall – and one of Dad’s paintings – the lone tree. God, would anything be left if the fire hit?

  Robert beeped the horn.

  Wait! She grabbed a paintbrush and dashed from the house and into the ute. “Go.”

  Wheels spun as Robert tore down the empty streets. “Still want to try the pub?”

  “After I make sure Dad is all right.”

  “You don’t know if the road is open.”

  “I’ll drive myself if you want to stay.”

  “I don’t think –”

  “Robert, he’s all I’ve got.”

  He shook his head but turned the car toward the rickety wooden Welcome sign instead of the river. Smoke still swirled between houses and electricity poles became slender sentries where they loomed from the heavy haze. Hot wind continued to buffet the vehicle. Her throat was still sore, despite them finishing off the water bottle. Even if the ute didn’t have a broken window, smoke would have crept through the air vents, through every gap.

  The road out of town started its gentle incline. Yet they’d barely been on it for a minute when Robert slowed at a huge, dark shape ahead. “What’s this?” A long wall of steel resolved from the smoke and Robert stopped the ute.

  A truck had jack-knifed. The same log truck that had flown down the hill before Jennings Lane. It blocked the road completely. “There’s no way around,” Robert said. The cab lay twisted on the edge of a steep slope leading down into the trees and the trailer covered the road, logs spilled like a hideous, giant game of Pick Up Sticks.

  Dad.

  There was no way to reach him now.

  Chapter 26.

  Lisa kicked a tyre. “God damn it.”

  The back roads to Yarsdale were a serious detour, several of which were in a direct path of the fire – and closer to the front than Lidelson itself. Maybe if she rang the hospital... She tried her mobile but the service didn’t hold up. The towers were probably jammed. Or burnt to ash.

  “Help me check on the driver,” Robert called.

  She ran forward, vaulting a log and grabbing hold of the trailer as she slid down torn earth beside the road. It wasn’t a deathly plunge down to the trees, but if she slipped and started rolling, she’d break something. The truck’s cab lay tucked into the trailer and this close, the scent of burnt rubber was strong even beneath the smoke.

  “Hello? Are you all right?”

  She climbed up the grated
step and wrenched open the cabin door. A man in a flannelette shirt lay slumped over the wheel. He didn’t move. She touched his shoulder and he groaned. Thank God – he had a chance. If he could walk. And if the fire didn’t sweep down on all of them.

  “Hey, can you move?”

  Another groan.

  She leant out of the cab. Robert stood below. “He’s alive. I’ll try get him out.” She wriggled closer to the driver. “What’s your name?”

  He blinked, finally focusing on her. “Ted.” He lifted himself up and Lisa helped him lay back in the seat. He closed his eyes. A large bruise covered his forehead, the skin split. “Something jumped out. Tried to swerve.”

  “Don’t worry about it now.”

  Robert climbed up beside her. “We need to lift him out and get somewhere safe.”

  “The river,” Lisa said. “Can you walk?” she asked the driver.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Well, we’re going to help. Ready?”

  Robert climbed back down and the driver nodded and used the edge of the door to pull himself forward. Lisa took some of his weight, helping the man down to Robert, who caught him with a grunt.

  “Sorry,” Ted mumbled.

  Lisa jumped down after and together the three navigated the slope, moving carefully with Robert on the lowest point. Ted’s foot slipped but Lisa caught his arm. The paintbrush in her pocket dug into her leg as she strained, but together with Robert, they half-pulled, half-pushed Ted to the level stretch of road.

  Without much room in the ute, Lisa helped Ted into the passenger seat. “I’ll ride in the tray,” she said. She climbed up over the dented part of the ute and gripped the roll bar.

  Flecks of glowing red winked across the top of the cab – embers. She spun. Red and black embers floated on the wind. The front was closing in.

  “Go!” she shouted and thumped the roof.

  Robert charged back into town. The embers flared and she squinted against the smoke. In the distance glowed more red spots, close to the ground, between buildings and beyond them – everywhere it seemed. New smoke rose in random patterns. Spot fires. The fire front was as little as a handful of kilometres away.

  Even the spot fires would be enough trouble on their own. Anyone staying behind to try and defend their homes would have their hands full. As would the CFA – if they could even access the place. The crash wouldn’t make it easy for the fire-trucks. Water-bombing might be possible but would it make a difference? How many homes would be lost? Lives?

  Would the wind change?

  Robert pulled up to the gravel car park before the pub’s concrete steps. Only Bruce’s old van was parked nearby. Lisa leapt down and helped Ted out. His colour was a little off but he seemed better able to walk. She got him up the steps and glanced back. Robert had one rifle in hand, the other over a shoulder and the laptops and photos in his free arm as he followed.

  “We’ll be safe in here,” she told the truck driver as she thumped on the door.

  Bruce came around the side of the pub. He wore a heavy-duty looking tank strapped to his back, a hose in one hand. A hammer hung from a tool belt. His sleeves were long and he wore a wide-brimmed hat. She could have laughed – he looked like a cross between Indiana Jones and an exterminator.

  He blinked. “Lisa? Robert?” He rushed over. “Come inside.”

  The bar was empty – only one light glowed over the mirror, a chunky Dolphin torch standing upright. Stools and tables were darker shapes in the dim room. Even in here, a haze of smoke was perceptible. Smoke always found a way. Lisa got Ted to a chair and sat him down. “I’ll find you some water,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  Lisa ran around the bar and found a glass. The sinks were both full, as were buckets sitting on the counter. Piles of towels – the same towels she’d run through the washing machine enough times to know the individual marks and tears – sat nearby, ready to be soaked and lain across doorways and windows.

  She filled the glass and took it to Ted, joining Robert and Bruce who were discussing the defence.

  “I sent Pearl and the kids to her mum’s. Matt’s looking after his place in Yarsdale but I can’t leave this old bastard.” He slapped a wall. “Got me gutters full and the pump is sucking half the river onto the back yard. I’ve already soaked the verandah. Had the sprinklers running since last night but there’s a lot of doors and windows to look after in here.”

  “We’ll help,” Robert told him.

  “You sure? What about your place?”

  Robert shook his head, his expression tight. “Insurance will cover anything that happens.”

  “Maybe you won’t need it, right?”

  His smile was a quick one. “Hope so.”

  “You can start with the ladder – I want to be able to get at the ceiling if it catches fire.”

  Robert nodded and headed toward the pool room.

  “Your dad okay, then?” Bruce asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get through to the hospital.”

  “Keep yourself busy.” He patted her arm, his glove damp. “Start soaking towels and finish lining the doors and windows. I’m off to check on the pump.”

  “Right.” She glanced over at Ted, who seemed happy to simply sit with his head in his hands, then grabbed her first towel. She shoved it into a sink and ran to a blacked out window, lining it as best she could. The towel clumped in the sill, water dripping down the wall.

  Outside, the wind raged on. Was the roar growing? How close was the fire? She needed to see. Damn it. Her heart started to thump – like it was trying to punch through her ribs. How bad was it going to get? They could all die. Would she even feel it? Or would the smoke get her first?

  “Shit.” She snatched another towel from the bench and kept going.

  Robert soon joined her. When they emptied the sink, she refilled it and when they ran out of towels she snatched more from the linen closet. And once they were done, she started on bed sheets.

  “Take the guest rooms,” she shouted to Robert. “Use the laundry sink.”

  “Right.”

  Breathing hard, she took her dripping sheet to the back door that permitted access to the verandah and the outdoor setting which led toward the river. She glanced outside. One of Bruce’s sprinklers spun, soaking the deck. The furniture and barbeque and its gas bottle had been removed and the shade cloth packed away somewhere.

  The water in the river flowed on, the red sky reflected on the surface. Bruce was a little distance away, bent over a forty-four gallon drum, which had been cut in half, so as to cover the water pump.

  She slapped the sheet down, spreading it along the floor. Her arms were aching but already their efforts were making a difference to the interior of the room. Less smoke seeped in – save for the front door and its yellow-frosted glass. No point doing that one yet.

  How long until the fire-front hit?

  “Robert?” She tried again, raising her voice. “Robert?”

  He appeared from a hallway. “All done?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to get Bruce inside.”

  “Good luck.”

  Heat blasted her when she opened the door. It stung her face and the skin of her hands – it even singed her eyeballs, or so it seemed. She squinted as her eyes watered. Beyond the ute, Bruce was spraying a small fire that had leapt up in the garden bed running along the fence. The trees had been cut back – she hadn’t noticed before – no branches near windows or roof now.

  And no hint of his usual clumsiness either; he was all purposeful movements.

  But it was too late for that now. He had to get inside – right away. Smoke and fire raged across the town. Grass, building, tree – nothing was immune; fire climbed and blackened everything in its path. She ran down the steps, shouting. Bruce continued to douse the flames.

&nbs
p; She caught his shoulder. “Bruce, it’s too dangerous.” Could he hear?

  He did. He stopped to glance at flames bursting from the windows of houses across the way, then nodded. They ran back to the pub, Bruce slamming the door shut. She took a heap of pillow cases from a nearby bucket and dumped them with wet slaps on the floor before the entry.

  “Keep checking that the others are wet,” Bruce shouted. “There’s another torch in the hall too.”

  She leant against the sink to catch her breath. Had they done enough? There was no way to know until the front hit. “How long will it last?”

  “Five minutes, maybe more, I’m guessing. It’s a big one.”

  “Bigger than Black Saturday?” She’d been overseas – and lucky – to miss it.

  “They say it’s not but I think it’s bad enough, isn’t it?” He removed his hat and wiped his brow. “Choose a room and take some buckets with you too, Lisa. We can’t let the fire catch hold. If things get bad, come back to the bar.”

  “I will.”

  He strode off and she flicked the torch on, illuminating smoke where it hovered in the passage, and took her bucket and began dousing the towels again. With the sink running she checked on Ted, who was asleep – his breathing slow and even. For now, she’d leave him to rest.

  The roar outside built. Light darkened beyond the window shields; even the aluminium looked like it was searing hot. The very walls seemed to shudder. Lisa fell back and from somewhere in the pub, Robert shouted.

  “It’s going to hit!”

  “In here,” Lisa shouted back.

  They rushed into the barroom. Walls continued to vibrate with the force of the fire-front and she dashed back to the laundry to re-fill the bucket, only to leave it by the guest room door when more cries came from the bar. She sprinted back. Ted was coughing and shouting as smoke poured in from the pool room.

  It was curling down from the manhole above the ladder.