Embers and Echoes

by Daniel De Lorne

  Neutralise the target.

  Minimise fall-out.

  What if he hit Toby?

  Nerves burbled in the bottom of his stomach, and he tightened the grip on his weapon. He breathed as deeply as he could to suppress the rising fear until it muted enough for him to relax his hold. He sharpened his focus and readied for a clean shot.

  With their mouths and noses covered, they could have been twins—if not for the crazed look in Jared’s eyes, and the urging in Toby’s.

  He strengthened his stance. He wasn’t leaving alone.

  ‘Lower your weapon or Toby’s dead,’ Jared barked.

  ‘Don’t do it, Ben,’ Toby shouted. ‘He’ll shoot you.’

  Jared’s eyes darted to Toby, and Ben used the distraction to inch closer. ‘How’s this going to end, Jared? Backup is on its way. The fire’s getting worse.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to jail again and neither of you are leaving here alive.’

  Ben cracked a vertebra in his neck. ‘Let Toby go. He’s got nothing to do with this.’

  ‘I want you to see your lover die,’ Jared’s gravelly voice yelled at him. ‘I want your heart ripped out of your fucking chest knowing it’s all your fault.’

  The words struck his heart. He fought to hold onto the gun.

  ‘He’s not my lover.’

  Toby arms tensed and rose higher.

  ‘I’ve seen you together.’ His eyes narrowed.

  ‘Then you were watching the wrong people. We’re not even friends.’

  Defeat washed over Toby’s face and he closed his eyes. Ben’s chest constricted. They had to survive this and then Ben could explain. Hopefully Toby would listen.

  ‘So why was he at your house?’

  Inch by inch, he narrowed the distance between them. ‘Because I had to tell him about you setting fire to his place and almost killing him and his dad.’

  ‘You expect me to believe you two have nothing going on?’

  How much had Jared seen? Had his face peered through his window the moment he kissed Toby? Or did he assume?

  Toby’s arms sagged. ‘That’s what this is about? Jealousy?’

  Jared jammed the gun barrel into Toby’s back. ‘Shut up,’ he leered. ‘Ben ruined my life so he could be with you. He couldn’t wait ’til I was behind bars so he could come fuck you.’

  ‘I suppose he planted the drugs as well,’ Toby spat.

  ‘Toby, shut up.’ Ben was still too far away to intervene if Toby goaded Jared into firing his weapon.

  Toby rounded on him, facing him down, forcing Jared to raise the gun higher and aim it nearer Toby’s face.

  ‘Don’t you dare move,’ Jared said.

  ‘So it’s Ben’s fault you were a drug-dealing scumbag? Ben’s fault you dated a cop and used him as cover?’

  ‘I loved him.’ The gun punctuated Jared’s declaration.

  ‘Bullshit. Do you know the damage you caused? Do you know why he’s back here? Because the cops in Sydney thought he was bent. Guess whose fault that was.’

  The muscles surrounding Ben’s spine pulled tighter. Toby was defending him. He wasn’t just buying time. His voice carried more than fury. He was ready to do battle on Ben’s behalf.

  Jared inched back as Toby advanced. Ben crept closer, watching the flames, watching the gun, watching for a clean shot. He heard the scrape of boots on gravel behind him and lowered a hand to his side to tell them to wait. Jared and Toby remained fixed on each other, and their positions began to shift.

  ‘Do you know what Ben’s been doing back in Echo Springs? Rebuilding his life after you nearly destroyed him.’

  ‘Good. He deserved it. He was meant to stand by me, but instead he dobbed me in.’

  Ben ignored Jared’s whining for what it was, a desperate attempt to avoid owning up to problems of his own creation. But Jared wouldn’t take Toby’s gibes much longer. He’d lash out if cornered. Toby would say the wrong thing and make the hell they were already in worse. As the pair argued, Ben used Toby’s distraction to narrow the distance between him and Jared.

  ‘How dumb do you have to be?’ Toby said. ‘Ben gave you everything. And all you gave him was pain and humiliation.’

  ‘What about you? The way he talked about you, you’d think you were the bloody Messiah, but you didn’t treat him any better. When we came here, I wanted to punch your face in for what you did to him.’ They kept moving, Toby gaining ground, Jared giving it, until their back and forth brought Ben behind Jared’s back. He had a clean shot. He just needed to take it.

  ‘Maybe if I had, he could have gotten over you.’ Jared jabbed the gun in Toby’s face again, and Ben’s finger slipped in front of the trigger. ‘Then I wouldn’t have spent two years locked up. Do you know what it’s like for a fag in jail? Especially one who dated a cop?’

  ‘You want pity? You forced him away for what? Money? Power? You’re pathetic.’

  Jared braced the gun against his body. ‘And you’re dead.’

  Ben’s heart punched into his ribs and he thrust his gun into Jared’s back. ‘Drop the gun, Jared,’ he bellowed. Rage surged through his body and flowed into his hand, increasing the pressure on the trigger. Jared’s head turned and his eye shimmered with impotent fury.

  It’d be so easy.

  But Toby grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, angled it up and wrenched it from Jared’s hands. He flipped it and stepped back out of Jared’s reach.

  Jared lunged for Toby but he swung the gun and clocked Jared across the chin with the rifle butt. His head snapped back with a loud crack and he collapsed to his knees.

  A breath fired out of Ben’s lungs. He was impressed at Toby’s speed.

  Ben holstered his weapon and ripped out his handcuffs but before he could slip them on, Jared roused out of his stupor, charged Toby and slammed into his stomach, carrying him forward, away from Ben, away from safety. The shotgun dropped to the ground and the two of them tumbled over each other, propelled by Jared’s shock attack. They plunged into the burning scrub.

  Fire rose and the cracking of burning branches covered any sound of their fight.

  Ben’s body hardened like he’d been encased in concrete, and he stared at where Toby had been.

  Gone.

  His brain rebelled. It wasn’t possible. He stumbled forward but three sets of hands grabbed him and forced him down. Officers rushed past him, their thundering feet carrying them to peer into the terrifying maw of the inferno that had consumed Toby. He fought to break free but there were three of them and only one of him.

  ‘You’re not going in there, Ben.’

  ‘We have to save him.’ Was that him? He sounded so distant.

  ‘Leave it to Adrian, alright?’

  The firefighter ran past, dragging the hose and searching the blaze. Why did he hesitate? He knew Toby was in there. What was he waiting for?

  ‘Get out of here,’ Adrian shouted. ‘The fire’s getting worse.’

  Ben looked up, looked around. The flames had grown taller, looming over them and threatening from above as well as below. Sweat cascaded over his skin. He tasted slate. Toby was still out there. There was still a chance.

  Officers heaved him away, but he resisted as much as he could, never taking his eyes off that spot.

  Losing Toby was not possible. It couldn’t happen. Not because of him.

  ‘Come on, Ben. We have to go,’ Mac said.

  His heart wrenched from his chest and incinerated in the fire. He was left with cinders and soot. He should have shot Jared. If he had, Toby wouldn’t be fighting for his life. He’d have had a chance to explain, to say sorry, to say thank you.

  They hauled away a shell.

  But then Adrian hollered, fired his hose and disappeared into the gully. Ben wrestled free and hurtled towards the edge, watching, hoping, as Adrian cut a path through the blaze. He shot after him, and followed the black path until he reached Adrian returning with Toby under his arm.

  Relief shattered Ben�
�s body but Toby had lost his mask and he collapsed to the ground, even with Adrian’s support. Ben dropped beside Toby’s body. His fingers dug through the warm dirt and hefted Toby into his arms.

  He jogged up the crest and out of the fire. His colleagues tried to help him but he wasn’t letting go. Toby’s suit scalded the exposed skin on his hands.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Only Toby mattered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A day in the hospital and Toby was back out fighting the fire. Discharged against medical advice. He had to get back to fighting the blaze that was still raging across parts of Echo Springs. He and Carl were out extinguishing the last of the fire on a scrap of land to the south of the Buchanans’ property. An old wooden shack had been caught in its path.

  The fire hadn’t engulfed it completely, burning down the rooms on the right of the building but leaving those on the left largely intact: smoke-damaged and blackened but still standing. The flames had been beaten back and Toby entered the house to get the last of them, not to save the remains of the house, which had been abandoned long ago, but to ensure no embers were left behind.

  Down a short hall, he passed into the kitchen, half of it blackened, the other half still resembling a lived-in abode. An old wooden table and two chairs, then behind that in the wall an old stove and beside that—

  He hollered for Carl, dropped the hose and ran over to the body slumped against the wall. He shook off his glove and reached under Peter Hanson’s neck for a pulse but the grey-tinged skin and still chest were enough of a sign that looking for life was pointless.

  His body was as flat and drawn-out as it could be to get away from the fire and smoke. His right arm was handcuffed to the stove, the skin bruised and bloodied from where he’d tried to pull himself free. Chained, he couldn’t escape. And he couldn’t have got down low enough to avoid the smoke. Death would have been inevitable.

  This was going to break Erika’s heart.

  ‘Jesus,’ Carl said from behind him.

  ‘Can you do the final sweep?’ he said, getting up and walking outside to call the police. He’d been foolish enough to believe they were going to get through this blaze without a death—Jared excluded. Guess he’d been wrong.

  The cops were on their way. Meanwhile, he and Carl returned to putting out the flames as they licked their way across the paddock. When the patrol car arrived about forty minutes later, he and Carl were done and ready to move on. Hartley stepped out of the car followed by Erika carrying her bag. Although the victim was her brother, she was still the town’s forensic pathologist. And she’d want to see this for herself.

  He left Carl to pack up the tanker and walked with Hartley and Erika over to the house. Hartley’s hand slipped into Erika’s.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s like this Erika,’ he said as they followed him down the hall. They’d left Peter as they found him. Hartley stopped at the edge of the table, close enough to see Peter’s body, but Erika continued right up to her brother and crouched down next to him. She felt for a pulse as well, and then her hand moved to lightly stroke her brother’s face. She sniffed and her head raised, her shoulders slumping forward before stiffening. Hartley went and knelt behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head towards it and looked at the handcuff that had stopped her brother from escaping.

  Her hand hovered over it and then closed into a fist. Toby came closer then and saw the gouged nail marks along Peter’s wrist.

  She stood and turned to Toby. ‘Thank you for finding him. Now I know whatever he’d gotten involved in, he’d been forced to do it against his will. Thank you for giving me that.’

  He didn’t know what to say in response so he hugged her. ‘Will you two be okay from here? Carl and I have more work to do.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve got Harts and we’ve got work of our own to do here as well.’ With any luck, Peter’s body and the scene would give her the answers as to who had done this to him, but for now she could stop wondering where he was.

  He gave her hand a final squeeze and nodded goodbye to Hartley. It was on the end of his dry tongue to ask how Ben was doing but now wasn’t the time and there were fires still to fight.

  ***

  Toby blasted the ground with a jet of foam and extinguished the last embers. Fire controlled and contained.

  ‘It’s done?’ Adrian sidled up to him.

  He nodded, surveying blackened earth, charcoal stumps and a sky laden with smoke. After three days, it was out.

  If the rains ever returned, they’d see such colour.

  He must be tired if he was thinking about flowers.

  ‘I think we’ve earned a drink.’ Adrian nudged him and they stamped back to the tanker, loaded it up and hit the road.

  Fatigue swamped him as he collapsed into the passenger seat. He hadn’t fully recovered after his short stay in the hospital, but though he struggled to keep his head up, he couldn’t rest yet. His need to see Ben intensified, sitting on his chest like a tonne of ore.

  Adrian drove them back to town and pulled into the station. Another tanker had returned and was parked in the garage. They went inside and joined their mates, welcomed by whooping and hollering at a job well done. They wanted to celebrate. He wanted to find Ben, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They shoved him into the shower, and he washed the stench of smoke and the remains of ash out of his hair and skin. What if Ben had meant what he said to Jared? They weren’t lovers or even friends.

  Twenty minutes later his teammates corralled him down the road to the Echo Springs Hotel. He’d have a drink then go. He’d need the liquid courage. He couldn’t bear the weight anymore. Better to know once and for all.

  But the hotel was packed and they entered to applause and shouts of appreciation. Carl kept a firm grip on his arm as he cleared a path to the bar to order their drinks. His plans of sneaking away after one drink folded as he accepted the handshakes and the pats on the back. His energy dwindled after five minutes. He rubbed his eyes but he couldn’t dislodge the exhaustion.

  He breathed deep to brace himself—dreading another minute of this—and inhaled the smell of beer and sweat and…leather.

  Warm, sun-soaked leather.

  His head swam as the intoxicating scent coaxed him into opening his eyes.

  Ben!

  His mouth curled into a broad smile, parting his lips, and a breathlessness stole through his lungs. Emerald eyes shone down on him and that dimple—that ensnaring dimple—furrowed his cheek. His arm slipped around Toby’s waist, his head tilted down and their lips met.

  The crowd fell away as Toby’s eyes closed and he leaned into Ben, out of sheer relief at releasing a love long withheld. Lips fitted to lips as their soft, strong touch launched a torrent of sparks into his desperate heart. His hand reached behind Ben’s head. He would never let go.

  Until Carl nudged him—he was a dead man—and broke the spell. The chattering of the pub, quieter than before, rushed back in along with an awareness that flushed his cheeks. They were now the centre of attention.

  ‘Looks like thirsty work.’ Carl offered him a beer.

  Ben pulled back but didn’t let go, his smile looking a little too pleased with himself and unfazed by everyone’s scrutiny. And while Toby wanted to get back to kissing him, he didn’t want an audience. They needed to talk anyway.

  ‘Drink it yourself, mate.’ He slipped his hand into Ben’s and pulled him through the crowd and outside. Knowing looks and mostly smiles followed them. It helped that Ben’s hand fit so well in his. He squeezed harder, as if he could take an imprint for a memento. Just in case.

  Once outside he didn’t stop until they’d reached the garden and found a quiet spot beneath the shade of low-growing trees. But Ben didn’t want to talk. He pressed him against a trunk and his devouring passion crashed into him. Need stampeded through his body and plunged into his groin, churning up the desires he’d only stoked with his imagination. The feel of Ben’s arms, the hunger in hi
s lips and the press of his pelvis brought a moan to his lips. Oh god, he wanted it. When they’d kissed at Ben’s house, stopping had nearly killed him, but knowing it could have been taken away from him had made it easier. Did he have to fear that now?

  He raised a shaky hand and placed it on Ben’s chest, using all his willpower to push him away. Their lips were the last to separate. ‘Stop,’ he panted.

  Ben’s breath heaved and his wild eyes twinkled. Had he forgotten?

  ‘Don’t you want to talk about what happened?’ Toby asked, still struggling to fill his lungs. His legs quivered; the tree stopped him from dropping.

  Ben frowned at him. ‘He’s dead. Did you…do you blame me for what happened?’ He stepped away.

  A hook yanked on Toby’s heart. ‘What? No! You’re not responsible for what Jared did.’

  The last he’d seen of Jared he’d been plunging deeper into the heart of the blaze. If he screamed, Toby hadn’t heard him, not over his own desperate breathing and scrambling to get out. Then Adrian appeared and guided him back. When he saw Ben, he’d collapsed.

  Ben’s eyebrows deepened as he scratched the back of his head. Toby couldn’t wait to run his hand over that buzzed scalp and brush away the worry.

  ‘And you’re not pissed at me for falsely accusing you or your dad? Or for putting the whole town at risk and nearly getting you killed?’

  He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t hurt that Ben hadn’t trusted him. But their past hadn’t been the shining example of faith it could have been. It was something they could work on. ‘I wish those things had never happened but I’m not going to hold them against you. Did you really tell Jared that stuff about me?’ His thumb kneaded his left palm. Dirt still lay in the lines.

  Ben shrugged. ‘I thought he was the one but when I told him about my past with you, I knew that wasn’t the case. Telling him felt like a betrayal to you, that I’d somehow killed our memory.’

  He took Ben’s hand, pulling him closer. ‘You know it wasn’t your fault, though, right? Why I kept away? Are you sure you can…that you’re…’