Into the Fire (5 page)

‘Dad, can you put the outside light on?’ E.D. called. It wasn’t even three o’clock yet it could have been dusk. The smoke had completely blocked out the sun. Helicopters overhead were carting water to the fire front and dumping their loads. The sound of sirens filled the air along with a dull, frightening roar—the fire itself.

E.D. scrambled up the ladder and started hauling small clumps of leaves from the gutter. There was a strong smell of burning in the air, and although there was no visible smoke in the immediate area around E.D.’s house, he had to continually wipe the tears from his eyes. He was hot in his jeans and woollen jumper but their father had insisted on them putting on
protective clothing, even down to caps on their heads to keep the radiant heat at bay.

Below him, Mario was showering the side of the house with water while Mr De Lugio worked furiously with a metal rake, dragging dry sticks and leaves into a pile.

‘What about the wood pile?’ E.D. shouted.

‘I’ll do it as soon as I’ve watered the whole house,’ Mario called up to him.

For 15 minutes, E.D. worked frantically along the gutter lines. In some places, the twigs and leaves were quite deep even though they had cleaned the gutters thoroughly at the start of summer. He recalled his father mentioning that the gutters had needed another clean out, but then Antonio had had his accident and the gutters had been forgotten.

At other times he would have had fun doing this job, aiming the leaves at one or both of his brothers or at the upturned wheelbarrow leaning against the side of the house. But not today. E.D. tossed another pile down onto the lawn below.

As he worked, E.D. thought about what he’d heard about bushfires and fires in general at school, wondering if there was anything else they’d forgotten. Every year the school had visits from the local fire brigade so he’d heard the
message countless times. The kids were shown pictures of bushfires and given a list of things to do in case of fire. What was that catchy line? Stop, drop, cover and roll? But that was only if you were in a room full of smoke. Hopefully it wouldn’t get to that.

With his gloved hand E.D. wiped the sweat from his brow. The heat from the roof was almost too much and he felt a surge of relief when he finally got around to the spot above the kitchen where he’d started.

E.D. rested his hands on top of the ladder. ‘Should I do the garage gutters as well?’ he called. No one replied. Mario and his father had gone back inside. E.D. looked out over the back garden and froze. In the distance, about a kilometre away, a wall of orange flame was shooting up into the sky.

‘The pine forest,’ E.D. whispered, and he noticed something else. He peered into the dusky scrubland beyond the rear fence. Had he seen someone out there? Perhaps it was an animal, fleeing the fires. He looked again, but his eyes quickly filled with tears. He could see nothing but a browny-grey haze.

Carefully E.D. made his way down the ladder as another helicopter swooped past overhead. He
carried the ladder to the shed and then joined his brother and father in the kitchen.

‘Dad, the pine forest…’ His father held up a hand, motioning him to be silent. E.D. listened.

‘…residents need to be clear in their decision to remain at home to protect their property. If you don’t have an action plan, then you are encouraged to await instruction from your local fire authority. We repeat that residents of Ashdale, Coruthers, and those living on the western edge of Teasdale should be acting now on their fire plans.’

‘We’ve seen it too,’ Mario said, looking grim.

‘That pine forest is directly between us and the fire front. I think it’s bad news, boys.’

‘Bad news?
The fire’s going to rip through that pine forest in no time,’ E.D. snapped, his voice unintentionally shrill.

‘Yes, it’s certainly going to speed things up. The fire was slowing as it came over the ridge, but obviously embers and flying hot ash have sparked the forest. And there’s been another wind change too. But there’s not much fuel in the scrubland after that, so I think we’ll be okay,’ said his father quite calmly.

‘You
think
,’ E.D. said.

‘We’re going to save our home, boys. We’ve got our plan and we’re going to stick to it. That’s what you’re supposed to do.’

‘Dad, I reckon I saw something out in the paddocks.’ E.D. pointed. ‘It might have been someone caught in the smoke.’

‘Are you sure?’ Mario asked.

‘Probably some fire authority people. They might even be doing some backburning.’ Mr De Lugio peered out the kitchen window.

E.D. shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t see for sure.’

‘The fire people will have it under control. We’ve got our own problems to take care of. Let’s head around the back and clear that wood. Mario, you can help me. Emilio, you stay inside. We need lots of water and blankets. Fill up every container you can find. Then go and check all the windows. I want them all closed. Come outside when you’re done.’

E.D. was about to argue but Mario and his father had already disappeared out the back door. He opened up cupboards in the kitchen and laundry, grateful that his mother had apparently kept every ice-cream container the family had ever used. In 15 minutes E.D. had covered the kitchen with buckets, bowls, and
containers of all shapes and sizes, filled with water.

Then, just as he was heading out of the kitchen to check the windows, a loud booming explosion caused him to stop in his tracks. For a moment he stood there, wondering if a section of the house had suddenly collapsed. The kitchen light had gone off, as had the clocks on the oven and microwave.

‘E.D., did you hear that?’ Mario called, rushing into the kitchen.

‘Hear it? I nearly had a heart attack. What happened?’

‘One of the power lines just exploded.’

‘Where?’

‘About 100 metres down Mates Road.’

‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s gone to check to see if anyone else is stupid enough to be trying to save their homes.’ The two boys went outside. E.D. gasped as he looked out over the fence line. The pine forest had turned into a giant, fearsome fireball; it was completely engulfed in bright orange flames. Smaller spot fires were burning out of control on its fringes. Behind and to either side were walls of thick, grey and black smoke.

‘The place is deserted,’ their father panted, joining the boys in the middle of the back garden. ‘Though I thought I heard some noises from next door.’

‘Dad, of course it’s bloody deserted,’ Mario said. ‘Only we had a decent enough fire plan to stay.’

E.D. watched, mesmerised, as small sections of the scrubland blazed. The roar from the fire had increased and E.D. had to strain to hear his father’s words.

‘That’s our problem, right there,’ Mr De Lugio said, nodding towards the spot fires only a few hundred metres away. ‘The wind is blowing hot ash and embers all over the place. But we’re staying and fighting.’

And suddenly E.D. understood. For a while he’d feared that the front of the fire itself would come rolling and crashing over them like some gigantic wave, burning and obliterating everything in its path. But it wouldn’t be like that. The dirt track and bare scrubland around their house wouldn’t have enough fuel to allow the fire to maintain its volume and intensity. It would be the sparks and burning ash thrown into the air by the swirling wind that would be the major threat to their home.

‘Okay, boys. Water, water and more water. Mario, dump those sticks and leaves in the green bin down there,’ Mr De Lugio said, pointing to the fence. ‘Emilio, go grab those sacks in the shed. And the blankets from the house.’

‘Look!’ E.D. watched in horror as a tall gum tree only 100 metres away burst into flames.

‘Come on, boys. Stop gaping and let’s see some action here.’

E.D. looked at his father, wondering if he really understood what was happening. A red fire truck had suddenly come into view at the end of Mates Road, and for a moment E.D. was comforted by the swarm of yellow-clad men and women jumping down and hauling hoses into position.

‘We’re not alone, little feller,’ Mario said, giving E.D. a slap on the shoulder. He grabbed the shears and headed down to the fence line. And then E.D. went very still.

In the distance he could see something. It was a dark shape, moving backwards and forwards, looking disorientated. Was it a man? The smoke made it hard to make out exactly what was going on.

‘Oh, no,’ muttered Mario.

E.D. turned to look in the direction of his brother’s gaze. The fire truck was retreating, a
man waving it back as a new fire suddenly reared right in front of them. It was as if the fire had come out from the ground they’d just been standing on.

‘Did you do the windows?’ E.D.’s father shouted, rushing over to the driveway and stamping on a piece of black ash that had floated in from the fire behind it.

‘Yes,’ E.D. roared above the noise of the fire. ‘Dad, I really think there’s someone out there! We’ve got to do something.’

‘Get the sacks then go inside and ring the fire authority.’

Sweat poured off E.D.’s back as he bolted into the shed. He flicked the switch but then remembered that the power was out. Stumbling in the darkness, he finally felt the coarse fabric of the sacks, lying on a shelf behind some tins of paint.

‘There’s no time,’ Mario yelled through the door. ‘If someone is out there, they need to be rescued right now. Otherwise they might suffocate. Get your helmet on and go out the side gate and have a quick look.’

E.D. felt his heart quicken. ‘Are you sure? Does Dad know?’

‘No and no. Just do it before I change my mind. You’ve got three minutes. I’ll phone. But
for God’s sake, come back straight away if you’re in danger.’

‘But…’

‘Riding bikes fast is what you’re good at, little brother. Now hurry,’ Mario added, taking the sacks from E.D. and giving him a shove. ‘Three minutes, remember?’

‘Three minutes,’ E.D. shouted, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. The barest trickle of water spluttered out of the side tap as he bent to soak the material before placing it over his mouth and nose. He slammed the helmet over his head, covered his eyes with the plastic protector then jogged to the four-wheeler motorbike. The engine roared into life.

‘Three minutes,’ E.D. muttered, hoping his house wouldn’t be burning when he got back. He noticed a van parked in the driveway of the Pattersons, their neighbours. Hadn’t his father said that no one else was around? His dad had mentioned he had heard noises from next door, though weren’t the Pattersons on holiday? Puzzled, E.D. slowed the bike then, remembering the dark shape moving haphazardly around in the smoke, he sped on.

The first thing E.D. realised as he steered the four-wheeler onto a narrow track was how
different the terrain looked up close. From the house, the scrubland had the appearance of being sparsely vegetated and easy to navigate through. But now that he was here, he was finding it difficult to decide which way to turn, even though he knew the tracks well. The heavy smoke, now moving in from all sides, was also making it tricky for E.D. to get a true sense of where he was. He had to think hard to try to remember where he had seen the shape through the smoke.

For a few hundred metres E.D. motored along the winding path, scanning left and right for any sign of movement. A couple of times he slowed the vehicle then stood up on the seat, trying to get a better view of his surroundings. But through the dust and haze he saw nothing but shrubs and stunted trees.

Finally, at the top of a shallow rise, E.D. stopped the bike and switched off the engine. To his left he could see the township of Teasdale, and although he couldn’t make out his house, he knew, in general terms, where it was. In front of him and to the right was the fire—a vast wall of orange flame, devouring the pine forest and nearby trees and shrubs. E.D. turned away quickly. He had approached from the south, and
when he turned to face that direction, the sky, though still blurry and dense, had a blueness to it that was very different from the sky in all the other directions.

From this point, the track would be taking E.D. towards the fire.

‘Hello?’ he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. ‘Is anyone out here?’ Cursing under his breath, E.D. got back on the four-wheeler and pressed on. After another 50 metres, he came to a junction. The main track forked away to the left, heading directly for the fire. A narrower track veered away on a gentle slope upwards towards the foothills. Although it was a memory from some time ago, E.D. had a vague recollection of a small waterfall in the area. Perhaps Mario or his parents had taken him there when he was younger. It was here that he’d seen the dark shape.

‘Hello!’ he shouted again. Hearing some rustling in the bushes to his left, he spun round quickly. A dark brown wallaby jumped out in front of him. E.D. raised his arms in the air, for a moment fearing the startled animal was going to land right on top of him. But somehow, almost in mid-flight, it managed to change direction, and bounded away through the scrubland.

‘Poor animal,’ E.D. muttered, watching it leap away in the direction of the fire. It looked like it had been burnt already and it was completely disoriented. It bounced in a zigzag course before stopping and lifting its head, sniffing the air. Once again it changed course, this time heading west and towards Teasdale.

‘I hope you make it, mate,’ E.D. said out loud. He turned the bike back towards the house, feeling sad. He’d forgotten how many animals lived in the bush and how many would be affected by the fire. His family was working hard to save their house: the bush animals were losing their homes with every minute the fires burnt.

Suddenly, through the gloom in front of him, E.D. saw a flashing blue light which slowly materialised into a police car. E.D. stopped the four-wheeler alongside the car.

‘What in the blazes—?’

‘I thought I saw someone out there,’ E.D. said, waving his arm in the direction of the scrubland behind him. ‘It was a wallaby.’

‘We’ll deal with whoever or whatever is out here needing help.’ The policeman shook his head. ‘There are kids all over the place.’