Into the Fire (4 page)

There was nothing to do at the community centre except wait. Although there were lots of other kids there, no one was in the mood for socialising and families remained huddled in their own little groups. Hannah, Ling and Sean stayed slouched against the wall. Sean pulled the gyroscope out of his backpack and spun it on the floor. Hannah watched the door in case Gabby turned up. Ling had her head bowed, deep in thought.

‘Tell me again about the exhibition,’ Hannah said suddenly.

Ling kept her head down. ‘What about it?’

‘You said the brooch was priceless. Wasn’t it from a royal burial site or something?’

‘Yes. It’s one of only five ancient burial sites ever uncovered. Many Viking royals and important
people were pushed out to sea on burning boats; very few were buried. So this brooch is unusual. And to think it might have belonged to one of the early kings of Denmark.’

Hannah was silent for a minute. ‘And everyone knew that it was valuable?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, so were all the other things on display. I guess the brooch is worth more because it’s so old, but everything was locked up in cases.’

‘But they were allowed to be on exhibition in the Teasdale library.’

‘Only because Mrs Hastings was involved in the Royal Society of Ancient Diggings. At least, that’s what I heard her say to someone. Otherwise the exhibition would never have made it to Teasdale.’

Hannah nodded.

‘We could get the security tape,’ Sean said, fiddling with his model. He looked up excitedly. ‘I know how to take it out. Dad showed me when he was installing the unit. All you have to do—’

‘They would have done that already, Sean,’ Hannah said. Her brother shrugged his shoulders.

‘They might not have had time. I could go and get it, Han,’ he persisted.

Hannah shook her head. ‘No, Sean. It’s too dangerous for you to leave the centre.’

Ling cast her eyes around. Even though the centre was full of people, it was relatively quiet. People were talking in hushed tones to each other; some of the little kids were crying. Otherwise, it was like a school assembly when the headmaster was speaking. ‘Where do you think Gabby is, Hannah?’ Ling said, even though she knew Hannah couldn’t know any more than she could.

‘Let’s have a think about that.’ Hannah shuffled closer to Ling. ‘She was at the exhibition with you, right?’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘And then she wasn’t. So when did you last see her? Exactly?’

Ling pulled her hair from her neck and piled it on top of her head. It was getting hotter in the centre. The air conditioner didn’t seem to be working very well. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘we were sitting in the library and Mrs Hastings was going to unveil the brooch. Gabby wanted to leave because it was so hot. She must have stood up but I can’t really remember. Then the SES officer came in and told us we had to leave. That’s when I first noticed she was gone.’

‘Trust Gabby not to want to listen.’

Ling gave a small smile then she shook her head. ‘That’s when it was discovered that the brooch was missing. Everything seemed to happen at once.’

Hannah sat up and looked around the room. ‘Someone who was there in the library must have seen her go. Do you see anyone familiar here?’

Ling quickly scanned the room. She only came to Teasdale during school holidays and didn’t know many people. The faces in the room all looked unfamiliar. ‘I would have noticed if she’d gone out the main entrance. Is there another door out of the library?’

‘There’s another exit but it goes into the collections section.’ Hannah frowned. ‘It’s usually locked because you have to make an appointment with the reference librarian to look in there. I went in once with Dad looking for old land titles when he was going to buy the hotel.’

‘Why would Gabby go in there?’ asked Sean.

Hannah shrugged. ‘I bet she was looking for a way out that didn’t look too obvious. She would have had to turn back, though. Or else she’s still in there.’

‘The SES would have checked out the whole library, wouldn’t they?’ asked Ling anxiously.

‘You’d think so. But maybe the door was locked so they didn’t bother.’

‘I could go and look, Hannah.’

‘No, Sean. No way. Not on your own. Mum would kill me if anything happened to you.’

‘Nothing would happen, Han. I’ve gone to the library before on my own, and you know it.’

‘Yes, but not on a Total Fire Ban day, with bushfires surrounding us and Mum and Dad unable to get back into town.’

‘Not to mention the fact that everyone’s been told to come to the community centre,’ Ling added. She bit her lip. ‘Maybe something’s happened to Gabby and she didn’t hear them call out.’

‘Wait here, guys.’ Hannah patted Ling’s shoulder, stood up and walked quickly to the woman at the front desk. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘We think we know where our friend is. She’s still in the library.’

The woman looked up distractedly. ‘And you are?’

‘Hannah Williams. Can we go and check the library?’

‘I’m sorry, but you can’t leave here on your own.’ The woman looked down at a list in front of her. ‘We have notified the police to alert your parents that you are here. So, no, you can’t go to the library. The SES and the local police have searched the library thoroughly and there is no one there. What’s your friend’s name?’

‘Gabby Hunter.’

‘Well, I’ll certainly check for you. What’s her address?’ The woman looked up at Hannah as she told her and gave her a tired smile. ‘It’s okay. The fire isn’t near the town centre. She may have just gone home.’

Hannah gave a worried shrug and went back to Ling. ‘They won’t let us out. And they said they’ve checked the library.’

‘What do we do now?’ Ling looked pale.

Hannah gave her a rough pat on the shoulder. ‘We’ll go and check anyway—if we can find a way out that isn’t too obvious.’ Hannah looked around. ‘Where’s Sean?’

Ling pointed. ‘He found a friend from school and he’s gone over to chat with him.’

Hannah looked at her brother, who was talking excitedly with his friend and spinning the gyroscope in front of them. The other boy’s father gave Hannah a wave and a thumbs-up
signal. She waved back. ‘Looks like we don’t have to worry about him now.’

A woman carrying ice-cold bottles of water and trays of sandwiches came around to the girls. They helped themselves and smiled at the woman as she went on to the next group of people. Hannah took a swig of her water and put the bottle down. She looked towards the main entrance, where something seemed to be happening. A harsh light flicked on.

‘It’s a news reporter,’ Ling said, standing up. ‘Let’s go check it out.’

Hannah followed, a few paces behind.

Most of the crowd had settled into their own space and so it didn’t take long for the girls to get to the entrance. A news reporter was chatting to one of the officials, and a man with an enormous camera resting on his shoulder stood alongside another man holding a coil of black cable and a microphone.

‘Fifteen seconds to live,’ the man with the cable called, adjusting his headphones.

‘Looks like we’re going to be on national news,’ Ling said.

‘Four, three…’ The man holding the cords counted down the last two numbers with his fingers.

‘This is Stephanie King reporting from the community centre in Teasdale, where most of the residents have gathered. In the last two hours the fire has changed direction and is now threatening the northwest section of the town. Firefighters are desperately hoping that the cool change, forecast for later today, comes in time to save houses and buildings on the outer edge of the town.

‘And in further bad news for Teasdale, a valuable artefact has been stolen during or just before the opening of the National Museum’s travelling Hidden Treasures exhibition at the local library. Emergency officials had to evacuate guests from the library when news came through of the wind change. It was only then that staff at the library realised that a rare gold brooch had gone missing. We’re hoping to get Patricia Hastings, the head librarian and the person who organised the exhibition, to talk with us soon.’

Ling swung around, suddenly aware that she was standing alone.

‘Oh, no,’ she sighed. She looked in the direction of the officials, who were engrossed in the live broadcast happening alongside them. Hannah would have been able to slip out
unnoticed. As the reporter continued, Ling edged closer to the door then quietly ducked out.

‘Hannah?’ she called, spying her friend running across the road. Hannah paused and waited for Ling to catch up to her.

‘Sorry, Ling. It was a good chance to escape. No one was watching the door.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it. First Gabby and now you. But this time, I’m not going to be left behind.’ Ling could feel the intense heat from the road as they scurried across to the shade of the path opposite.

‘The place is spooky,’ Ling said, as they turned left.

‘The place is deserted,’ Hannah retorted, shivering despite the sweltering heat. ‘I should have taken that water bottle.’

‘Here,’ said Ling, offering hers. Hannah’s face was flushed. ‘Slow down, Hannah. A few more minutes isn’t going to make any difference. This is not the sort of weather to be running around in.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ Hannah paused to take a long drink from Ling’s water bottle. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, handing back the almost empty bottle.

‘It’s okay, there’ll be taps around. The water just won’t be as cold.’

They arrived at the library without anybody noticing them.

‘Gabby?’ Hannah called, pushing at the main doors.

‘Locked,’ Ling muttered. ‘Are there any other entrances?’

‘No, but hang on…’

‘Hannah? Where are you going?’ Ling watched her friend disappear behind some bushes to the left of the entrance. Sighing, she followed Hannah to the side of the building.

‘Amy,’ Hannah said, kneeling down in front of a metal grill.

‘Amy?’

‘She’s one of the librarians here. She leaves me new releases every now and again. It’s our special secret.’ Ling knew how much Hannah loved books and wasn’t surprised that she had some kind of special relationship with one of the librarians.

‘I don’t get it,’ Ling said, bending down to help Hannah remove the grill.

‘I collect the books from behind this grill here,’ Hannah panted, suddenly falling backwards, the air vent in her hand. ‘Look!’

Ling peered into the space where the grill had come away. A small red tub was sitting on the
floor. Inside it were two books. ‘No way,’ she gasped. ‘She’s got you
Twilight.’

‘Yes, you should read it after me. It’s supposed to be amazing. But maybe not now. Come on. You go first then you can help pull me through.’

Ling slipped through the opening easily and after some awkward wriggling and squeezing, Hannah joined her. They were in a tiny room surrounded by shelves stacked high with old magazines and newspapers.

‘And I’ll tell you something else,’ Hannah said, brushing down her shirt. ‘Amy was telling me about the number of books they lose each year. The council contracted Dad to install a new security and video monitoring system. She was saying it covers about 95 per cent of the main library.’ She frowned. ‘Sean said they might not have had time to get the tape. Maybe he’s right…’

‘I’m so worried about Gabby. It would be just like her—’ Ling froze.

‘What?’ Hannah said, just managing to avoid crashing into her.

‘Look! On the floor there.’ She rushed forwards and picked up a pair of sunglasses. ‘These are Gabby’s.’

‘Are you sure? What are they doing down here?’

‘She had them on this morning.’

Hannah stared at the expensive sunglasses. They were jet black except for two stripes running along each arm—hot pink: Gabby’s favourite colour. The lenses were like two shiny mirrors. ‘Why are they down here?’

‘I’ve got no idea. Why would Gabby come down here anyway?’ Ling slipped the glasses carefully into the pocket of her shorts. ‘And why would she leave her very best sunglasses lying on the floor of the library office for someone else to pick up? It’s a bit weird, but I’m sure there’s some perfectly logical explanation.’

‘Maybe she was brought down here against her will,’ Hannah said quietly.

‘What are you thinking, Hannah? Don’t be silly. We’re in the Teasdale library.’

‘Yeah, and a gold brooch has just been stolen.
From
the Teasdale library. Maybe Gabby wandered off and saw something or someone she shouldn’t have.’

Both girls turned at the sound of a tiny metallic click from the table behind them. In the darkened room a red light had suddenly started blinking on the phone.

‘Someone’s in the library,’ Hannah whispered, moving quietly to the desk. ‘And I don’t think it’s just Gabby.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Finding out who,’ Hannah said, gently lifting the receiver.

Angus looked back. Behind him, a swirling wall of smoke made it impossible to see the truck or Alan Hopcroft. It was as if he had entered another world. He kept going, head low, pushing his way through the choking air towards Kenny Jones’ stables. I’ve got to find Dad, he kept thinking. I’ve got to find Dad.

Buildings loomed ahead of him. He groped his way towards them, realising as he touched the wooden wall that he had only gone about 50 metres from where he’d started. He couldn’t see where he was going and it was slowing him down. Fear rose in his throat. What if he was too late? What if he’d taken so long to get anywhere that his father had suffocated in the thick, dark smoke? He kept his hand on the stable wall as he
pressed ahead, feeling his way to the end of the wall before turning right and setting off along the track that should lead him to where he thought his father would be.

Minutes passed. It felt like hours. Then the smoke in front of him changed. It was like an angry animal: black smoke billowed outwards and upwards. Black smoke and orange flames. Kenneth Jones’ stables were on fire!

Angus ran, crouched over, coughing madly. He reached the yard that the black mare had come up against. Keeping close to its fence line, he followed it around to where he’d seen the last horse left in the stables. Through the crackling noise of the fire, he heard a horse scream, a petrified, desperate noise. He veered towards the sound.

A horse—a chestnut that made Angus think instantly of King—careered around in its stall. It was lunging at the heavy wooden half-door, with enough force to make it rattle but not open. In horror, Angus saw that the bolt had been bent and wouldn’t slide open. There was no easy way to get the horse out.

Angus turned away, feeling like he was going to vomit. The horse was one thing but where was his father? It was so hard to see, and the heat was beginning to bear down on him. Angus felt
dizzy and exhausted. He dropped to his hands and knees, breathing heavily, and tried to get a grip on himself. Come on, he thought, find Dad.

He started crawling along the ground at the edge of the stables. If Dad had come to get the horse, he reasoned, he would have tried to open that stable door. Chances are he’ll be nearby: somewhere close to the horse. Maybe he was even…

Angus stood up and felt his way back to the stall containing the frightened horse. The chestnut was plunging and rearing, half-crazed by the smell of the smoke. Angus tried talking to it but his voice didn’t carry. As the horse circled the stall, getting ready for another assault on the door, Angus peered over its edge. In the corner of the stall, lying in the thick sawdust covering, was his father.

‘Dad!’

Angus ducked away as the horse pushed at the door again. The stable door was high, coming up to Angus’ neck, but there was a gap underneath it. A gap just big enough to crawl under—if the horse would let him. Angus waited until the horse ran to the back of the stall again. Then he dropped to his stomach and skimmed across the ground, feeling the hard floor grazing his forearms. The horse came roaring back and Angus pulled his legs
up and rolled away from it quickly. The stall shook as the horse smashed into the door.

‘Dad!’ shouted Angus again, crawling over to his father and putting his head down close to his. Mr MacDonald lay on his back, his arms by his side. An ugly, bleeding wound covered half his face. ‘Oh, no! Dad!’ Angus shook his father by the shoulders, gently at first and then more briskly so that his dad’s head rocked backwards and forwards. Mr MacDonald groaned.

The noise was music to Angus’ ears. He put his face against his father’s and hugged him. An arm crept around his back and gave him a weak hug back.

‘We have to get you out of here,’ said Angus. ‘The stables are on fire!’

Mr MacDonald spoke but the words were lost in the crazy noise of burning wood.

‘What did you say?’ Angus leaned over so that his ear was above his father’s mouth.

‘Be careful, Angus. I came in to settle the horse. He knocked me over. He’s so scared that he’s charged the stable door. I couldn’t get it open.’

Angus looked up. Above them, the trapped horse lunged and reared in fright. It was crazy with terror. Angus knew that they were both in danger if they stayed in the stall for much longer.

‘Come on, Dad. You have to get up. We have to get out of here!’

It seemed to take forever, but his father finally rolled shakily to his knees. He didn’t seem to be able to stand so Angus half-pulled him across to the door. The horse had stopped thrashing about for a moment and stood in the corner of the stall, lathered in sweat, nostrils wide, staring at them.

‘You have to go under the door, Dad.’ Angus lay on his stomach and pointed outside.

Mr MacDonald copied him, and with enormous effort, tried to crawl under the door. His shoulders jammed. He tried again and the door moved with him. Mr Mac was too big to fit. He crawled back.

‘You go, Angus. Get out of here!’

‘No, Dad. I’m not leaving you.’

‘You have to.’ Mr MacDonald sat up and shakily wiped blood from his eyes.

Angus shook his head. ‘I’ll get you out, Dad.’ He gave his father a quick pat and then crawled under the door.

Outside the smoke swirled as heavily as it did inside. Three stalls down, flames licked the roof of the stables. There wasn’t even time to think. Angus grabbed the nearest thing he saw—a stable rake. He pushed the handle into the door next to its hinges and used it as a lever. A second
later, there was a thud as the horse inside the stall started crashing into the door again. Angus could only hope that his father was out of the way.

He pushed again on the rake, using his entire body weight. The horse charged; the door moved; wood splintered. Another heave on the rake and suddenly the hinges tore free and the door swung open. The chestnut horse shot out, almost collecting Angus on the way. He tried to reach for its headstall as it went, but the horse was too quick and it galloped away into the smoke and disappeared.

Angus ran into the stall. His father was lying down again. When he saw Angus, he struggled to get up. Without a word, Angus pulled his father’s arm across his shoulders and heaved. Finally, Mr MacDonald made it to his feet. Together they staggered out of the stables.

‘Where did the horse go?’ Mr Mac said, staring into the smoke.

Angus pointed. There was nothing to see. ‘We have to go, Dad.’

Mr Mac sagged suddenly, and Angus had to help him up. He started walking, forcing his father to move his feet. The man’s head was down, and blood dripped as they went, but Angus dared not stop again. He followed the line of the stables,
found the yard, and kept the fence line on his right. The smoke seemed worse. Breathing was hard, but Angus fought the panic he felt inside. There was no choice: he had to get his father out.

It seemed to take forever. Just when Angus thought he wasn’t going to make it, there was a shout from somewhere ahead of them. Angus didn’t have the strength to reply. Then someone came and took his father from him. Angus stopped moving, feeling his body droop. Someone else put a strong arm around his back and steered him towards the truck. A mug was placed in his hand and he drank. Water had never tasted so good.

‘Are you alright, Angus?’ It was Alan Hopcroft.

‘Just feel a bit funny…’ Angus sat down suddenly against the wheel of the truck. An ambulance officer came over and examined him, placing an oxygen mask on his face. Within a minute, Angus felt better. He lifted the mask off. ‘Is Dad okay?’

Alan frowned. ‘He’s got a really bad cut on his head. It’s bleeding a lot and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was concussed.’

‘The horse knocked him over. I don’t think it meant to but it was really frightened.’ Angus twisted around. ‘Where
is
Dad?’

Alan nodded at the road. ‘Lucky that the ambulance was already here collecting someone with smoke inhalation.’

In his exhausted haze, Angus hadn’t noticed the emergency vehicle. He caught sight of his father on a stretcher being loaded into the ambulance, his face still bloody. As he looked, he saw his father half sit up and raise his hand towards him. The doors of the ambulance closed and the vehicle drove away.

‘You saved your dad’s life,’ said Alan Hopcroft, patting Angus on the shoulder.

Angus shrugged. He didn’t feel heroic. ‘But we didn’t save the horse, though.’

‘Oh, but you did.’ Alan stepped back from the truck and motioned Angus to follow. Angus got to his feet and walked around to the back of the truck. Tethered inside, quivering and still dripping with sweat, was the chestnut colt. ‘He came galloping out of the smoke, right into our hands. It took three of us but we got him. That’s when you and your father appeared.’

Angus couldn’t help feeling relieved. ‘Can we take him back to our place? Harry and George are there—they’ll look after him.’

‘We might as well.’ Alan shook his head. ‘Harry and George can look after you too. Come on.’

As Alan Hopcroft drove the truck to Brookwood Stables, they passed several fire trucks, sirens wailing, travelling to the racecourse. Angus hoped they would get there in time. It was out of the question for Kenny Jones’ stables, though: they were probably already burnt to the ground.

They turned into the driveway at Brookwood, and Angus had never been so glad to be home. King raised his head and neighed as the truck pulled up. The other rescued horses were grazing peacefully in their paddocks. Harry and George came out and gathered around them as Alan Hopcroft told Angus’ story.

‘Well, boy, you are really something,’ said old George. He beamed at Angus and Angus blushed.

‘We’d better get this horse off the truck,’ he said.

Harry ruffled Angus’ hair. ‘Always thinking of the horses, aren’t you? You’re a good lad.’

The men lowered the ramp and backed the sweating animal out.

‘We’ll put him in the paddock for now,’ said Harry. ‘He’s probably had enough of stables for the moment. After he’s rested a bit, we’ll get the vet out to check him.’ He ran his eye over the horse. ‘Apart from the marks on his chest, he doesn’t look too bad.’

‘They’re from the stable door,’ Angus said, running his hand over the scratches on the horse’s chest.

‘Let’s turn him out.’ Harry led the horse to a paddock and let him free. The colt walked around nervously, pawing the ground and snorting to the other horses. Harry put a small amount of water in a bucket and let the horse drink. ‘We’ll give him more in a quarter of an hour.’

‘I’ll go now,’ said Alan Hopcroft. ‘I want to check on my horses.’ He turned around. ‘Looks like I’ll have to take the truck. I left my car at the racecourse.’

‘Dad won’t mind.’ Angus looked at Alan. ‘I should be at the hospital with him.’

‘Later, son. You have a rest first. Harry will drive you down later.’

Harry nodded. ‘Come and have something to eat first.’

After Alan drove away, Harry and Angus went into the house. George had made thick, doorstop Vegemite sandwiches and Angus thought they tasted like heaven. He ate hungrily and emptied his plate well ahead of the others.

‘That horse will need more water.’ Harry rose to go out but Angus stopped him.

‘I’ll go,’ he said. ‘I’ve finished.’

Angus walked back out in the heat. At first he didn’t notice anything wrong. He was gazing at the sky, trying to work out whether the fire was coming this way. The smoke, though, was still on the horizon. At least for now, it looked like Brookwood Stables was safe. He turned to the chestnut colt—but the paddock was empty.

Angus looked around. The gate had been pushed open, the chain broken. It seemed that the horse was still nervous and had probably charged his way through. Angus swore under his breath. They should have known that the colt needed watching. Now it could be anywhere. And with no truck to go and look for it, there was no way of getting it back. Angus’ father had risked his life only to have the horse go missing.

King nickered.

Angus turned quickly and glimpsed a blur of bolting movement down the road. The chestnut colt! If he moved quickly, there was still a chance of catching him.

Angus ran to his horse. Who needs a truck? he thought, as he swung himself onto King’s back. I’ve got horse power.