Into the Fire Page 6

  ‘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 t
hrough 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.’

  ‘What do you mean, kids all over the place?’

  ‘Two kids missing; another kid spotted out on Golden Ridge on the other side of town chasing a horse.’

  ‘Horse?’

  ‘That’s what I said. Now, what are we going to do with you?’ the policeman said, looking down at E.D.

  ‘I’m heading back home. It’s just there. See?’ Before the policeman had time to protest, E.D. was back on the seat and careering off down the dirt road to his house.

  Mario saw him and ran over to the bike. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘It was a wallaby.’

  ‘Well, put the bike in the shed and go inside. We’re just keeping an eye on spot fires. I’ll call you if you’re needed.’

  ‘Mario, there’s someone on Golden Ridge chasing a horse.’

  ‘A horse?’ Mario’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It’ll be alright: Golden Ridge isn’t anywhere near the fires.’

  E.D. looked at his brother. Mario knew what he was thinking. ‘You think you know who it is. You want to go and help?’

  E.D. nodded. ‘I can go out the front; I’ll be travelling away from the fire. I’d be safer out there than here.’

  Mario nodded. ‘That’s true.’ He chewed his lip for a moment. ‘Well, we’re under control here for the moment. Once you get that horse, you stay put.’

  Before Mario had finished his sentence, E.D. had already turned the bike and was going down the driveway. He revved it hard and flew along the line of nature strips. It felt good to be heading away from the fire.

  ‘Hang on, Angus,’ he said into the wind. ‘I’m coming.’

  CHAPTER 10

  Ling moved to the door and peered out of the library office as Hannah continued listening, the phone pressed to her ear. A woman was speaking. Hannah recognised the voice—it belonged to Mrs Hastings.

  ‘The fires are actually keeping the police away and I think she can be used to our advantage, though I doubt that will be necessary.’

  ‘The distraction of the fires is certainly timely but is Derwent’s Hut secure?’ Hannah held her breath as she listened to a man speaking on the other end of the line.

  ‘It’s on the eastern side of town and won’t be a problem.’ Hannah heard Mrs Hastings laugh.

  ‘And have you heard from our couriers?’

  ‘No, but that’s not a concern. Has our Moroccan friend been in touch? He’s not the only buyer, you know.’

  ‘I am aware of that. Not as yet, but he will.’

  ‘One moment. I think there’s someone…’

  ‘Patricia? Hello?’ Hannah listened to the man’s heavy breathing coming down the phone line. From somewhere inside the library she heard a door close.

  ‘Hannah?’ Ling whispered, running back into the room. ‘There’s someone coming. Should we go and ask about Gabby?’ Hannah pressed the mouthpiece against her shirt, shaking her head and pointing to the phone. Another red light came on. Was someone else listening in? Mrs Hastings’ voice came on the line again.

  ‘Don’t worry. The people who committed this crime will be caught and punished and we’ll get the brooch back.’

  ‘What on—?’

  ‘I must go now. There’s someone waiting out the front of the building.’ Suddenly the girls were aware of footsteps approaching in the distance from the corridor outside. Hannah put down the receiver, taking care to ensure that it didn’t settle properly back into its holder. It had just occurred to Hannah that Mrs Hastings probably suspected that someone was eavesdropping on her conversation. If Mrs Hastings found the receiver off the hook when she checked the phone, it might make her think she was mistaken.

  Then Hannah had another thought. She raced over to the security system her father had installed. Surely the tape would have information on it? Footage of the thief stealing the brooch? She pressed the eject button but nothing happened. Maybe the police had taken it already. Or had the thieves stolen it themselves?

  And then she remembered. Some sort of code was needed to get the tapes out. But what was it? No one could get the tape out without the code.

  Ling interrupted her thoughts by waving frantically. The footsteps were getting closer. Hannah grabbed Ling’s hand and together they scurried out of the larger office and back into the tiny room full of old newspapers.

  They heard someone entering the office. ‘Is there someone here?’ Mrs Hastings called. The girls held their breath. They had wedged themselves behind a stack of boxes in the corner near the door. Outside the wind lashed the trees causing a branch to scrape violently against the glass of the small window high above them.

  There was a faint rustle as Mrs Hastings picked up the receiver of the phone. Straining their ears, Hannah and Ling just made out a high-pitched beeping, then a click as Mrs Hastings replaced the phone on the cradle. A moment later she left the room. The girls listened to her footsteps gradually fading.

  ‘Hannah, this is stupid. We need to talk to her, not hide from her. She’s the librarian.’

  ‘No, she’s the thief!’

  ‘What are you talking about? Gabby’s missing. She might have seen her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure she has. We don’t want to talk with Mrs Hastings. It’s the police we need.’

  ‘Hannah, this is crazy. Let’s just ask. I saw her this morning. It was Mrs Hastings who organised th
e whole exhibition.’

  ‘You didn’t hear the phone conversation I just did.’

  ‘Conversation with who?’

  ‘It was Mrs Hastings and some man.’

  ‘So, what were they saying?’

  ‘Something about the fires being a distraction and couriers and a hut.’

  ‘A hut? Hannah, we don’t have time for this. Come on.’ Before Hannah could reply, Ling raced into the passageway, heading swiftly towards the main body of the library.

  ‘Oh, damn it,’ Hannah muttered, heading off after her. She pulled up quickly at the entrance to the library. Mrs Hastings was smiling stiffly at Ling. Beyond them, Hannah could see a group of people gathering outside the main entrance.

  ‘Good heavens,’ Mrs Hastings exclaimed, seeing Hannah suddenly emerge from the storeroom doorway. ‘What is going on here? How long have you been in the library? I thought it was empty. Where have you been hiding?’

  ‘We’re looking for our friend.’

  ‘And what on earth are they doing here?’ Mrs Hastings asked, noticing the commotion at the door. ‘I haven’t seen your friend. Were you in the office a few moments ago?’ She looked from Ling to Hannah.

  ‘No,’ Hannah said, stepping forwards. ‘We came in the emergency exit door near the big magazine stand. We only just arrived.’

  ‘I see. And are you carrying anything? Something that doesn’t belong to you?’

  ‘We didn’t steal the brooch,’ Ling cried. ‘I was there at the exhibition. I…’

  ‘It’s time you left.’ Mrs Hastings scowled. ‘Come along.’

  Ling and Hannah followed Mrs Hastings to the main exit.

  As she opened the door a reporter thrust a microphone under the librarian’s nose. ‘Mrs Hastings, what can you tell us about the disappearance of the gold brooch?’

  ‘This is a very stressful time for everyone here at the library and of course the police are stretched to the limit with the fires at the moment but I’m confident that the brooch will be recovered. I have no further comment to make.’