10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Callum

Callum loaded the grocery bags into the back of his ute. He had enough supplies to last a week as he didn't expect to be leaving the house again for a while. The scent of smoke was heavy in the air and he couldn't wait to get back into the ute to escape the now-familiar smell. He shut the tailgate and walked to the driver's side. Tiny flakes of white ash drifted onto his dark paintwork and he looked to the sky. It was dark grey, but had been like that for a few days now. The ash was new though, as were the blackened gum leaves that were scattered about here and there on the road.

He looked over to see Joe and Mary on the footpath. They looked exhausted and worry etched their features. Joe was wheeling a suitcase.

"Hi," he said, walking over. "Is everything okay at your place? Is your son still lending you a hand?"

Mary nodded. "He dropped us off, and is parking the car."

"Right. Well, just let me know if you need anything. I'm only a phone call away."

"You're not evacuating?" Mary asked.

"Evacuating?"

"You haven't heard?" Joe said. "There's been a sudden change with the wind and it's sending the fire towards the ridge. The Watch and Act has been upgraded to an Emergency Warning."

"Shit!" Callum's heart pounded as dread pooled in his gut. He'd left his phone in the ute so hadn't got the alert. Thank God Trent was away in Katoomba and not at risk, but fuck, the guesthouse! "I've got to go."

He raced back to the ute, ignoring Joe and Mary's calls. With Trent out of town, it was up to him to make sure everything was okay. Ten minutes later, he was pulling into the guesthouse car park, tyres skidding in the gravel as he screeched to a stop. He reversed the ute and pointed it towards the road so it would be ready if he had to leave in a hurry, but he wasn't leaving without at least putting up a fight.

He leapt from the ute. The acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils and stung his eyes. In the distance, flames were coming up the valley and heading for the guesthouse which was the last house along the ridge. He ran towards the cottage—the cottage that was his home and the building closest to the property boundary but suddenly stopped. He turned on his heel, taking in the main house, that thankfully was nearer the road and further away from the wild bushland. Despite the distance, it would be gone in no time if the fire reached that far. He swore under his breath. He had to act fast to protect Trent's dream.

He ran towards the old timber building and raced around ensuring all the downpipes were blocked. He grabbed one of the hoses they'd prepared earlier and turned on the tap. Filling the gutters with water would help guard against ember attack. He grabbed a second hose, hands shaking as he turned it on. Water burst out and he directed the spray at the house, dousing the verandah and the walls—anything to help against the flames taking hold. He did his best to keep the water flowing where it was needed over the next hour or so as he watched the fire approach.

All too soon, the fire reached the back fence, ignoring the fire break he and Trent had cleared the day before. He didn't have the equipment to fight it and wasn't stupid enough to think he'd be able to contain the flames with just him and a garden hose, anyway. His heart broke as he watched the fence collapse and the fire edge closer to the cottage until eventually flames leapt up the side of the small structure, licking at the eaves.

He looked away, unable to bear watching the destruction.

Smoke billowed around him, stinging his eyes and searing his lungs. He coughed violently then wet his T-shirt and pulled the damp fabric up over his nose. He regretted not going into the cottage to grab fireproof clothing, but there was no going back now. At least he had on his sturdy steel-capped work boots. He kept the water streaming against the guesthouse, grateful for the long expanse of garden between him and flames and prayed for help.

A short while later, the wail of sirens pierced the air, growing louder by the second. The relief flooded through him as a fire truck roared into view, followed closely by another.

Thank fucking Christ. Help had arrived.

The fire crews sprang into action, uncoiling hoses and setting up pumps with practised efficiency. One of the firefighters jogged over to Callum, yelling over the noise.

"Is there anyone inside?"

He shook his head, thinking of Trent away on business errands and bloody glad he'd cancelled all the guest bookings until the risk had passed. "No. It's empty."

"Okay. We've got this. You need to evacuate the area immediately. We've already evacuated the rest of the street."

Callum opened his mouth to protest, but the firefighter cut him off. "No arguments. It's not safe. We'll take it from here."

He wanted to fight them on it, to stay and defend the guesthouse, but he knew they were right. As much as it pained him, he had to step back and let the professionals handle this. He retreated to his ute and stood at its side, gaze fixed on the burning cottage and the bushland at the back, watching intently as the firefighters battled the blaze in an attempt to keep it from reaching the main house. His chest tightened at the sight. He should be fighting alongside the firefighters, not standing idly by while his home burned.

A distressed yowl cut through the noise. To his horror, he spotted a furry figure bolting from the shed and hurtling through the back garden. Mushroom! He filled with panic as the cat disappeared into the smoke. He didn't think, didn't hesitate. In that moment, all that mattered was saving Mushroom.

He raced forward, ignoring the protests of the firefighters, and plunged into the backyard after the cat. The heat was oppressive, the acrid smoke choking and blinding. But he persisted, pulling his shirt over his lower face and dropping to the ground to crawl below the worst of the smoke. It was bloody hard to see with his stinging eyes and he wasn't sure if flames would appear at any moment.

"Mushroom!" he yelled hoarsely, again and again, refusing to give up. He followed the terrified noises of the cat and made his way towards the arbour on his hands and knees. Suddenly blinding pain seared through his arm. Fuck! He snatched his arm back, holding it to his body for a moment, but didn't have time to wait for the pain to pass. He shoved the burning branch which must have fallen from the huge tree that overhung the back fence out of the way and kept going, then just as he feared he might have to give up, his searching hands closed around soft, warm fur. Mushroom! He scooped the cat up, clutching her close against the searing heat.

They had to get away from the approaching fire now.

He scrambled to his feet to where he thought the pathway was, panic flaring as he imagined flames licking at his heels. A few more feet and water rained down on them. He'd never been so grateful despite the yowling cat squirming frantically and screaming blue murder in his grip.

Someone took Mushroom from his arms while someone else tugged him away from the house. Over his shoulder, he saw the guesthouse was still standing strong, a team of firefighters making sure it was protected from the flames and embers.

He flinched as a firefighter examined his arm. The pain was excruciating, the skin an angry red, blisters already forming where the burning timber had fallen on his forearm.

"You'll need to get that arm seen to," the firefighter said gruffly as he tended to the wound and set to bandaging. "Those burns will need proper treatment."

Callum nodded, though he had no intention of leaving. Not until the fire was out and the guesthouse totally safe. Through gritted teeth, he endured the pain in silence.

"God knows what you were thinking, running into an active fire zone," the firefighter said.

"I was only out there a matter of minutes."

"That's all it takes," the guy said. "Especially without proper equipment."

Callum nodded again. He knew he'd been reckless, but he hadn't even been conscious of making the decision to rescue Mushroom. His arm throbbed, blistered burns shrieking under the makeshift bandages, a painful reminder of how close he and Mushroom had come to tragedy.

Over the next hour or so he watched the firefighting team as they brought the fire under control and ensured the guesthouse remained untouched. When at last only a small crew worked to make sure there weren't any hot spots and the others prepared to leave, Callum turned to survey the ruins of his home. The fire at the cottage was out, all that remained, a black smouldering mess. The bushland behind the property was blackened as far as the eye could see.

But he smiled. The guesthouse was safe and that, along with Mushroom, was all that mattered.