Penelope pulled out a couple of stools covered in bright patchwork silk and patted one for him to sit. He took his gloves off to open the drinks, she rested her hand on his knee, warmth radiating through his uniform, welcoming despite the heat. Such touch actually a new thing. Themselves part of the world and separate from it, like a story he might draw. Of course, in a story he created, she’d have come running out to greet him.

Through the window, daylight had vanished early. An engine wailed. Darren Doonan ran out of Brunton Hardware, chasing the vehicle. It stopped and a yellow-suited volunteer leaped out. The two men shouted, then vanished aboard the truck. The sky behind was red streaked with yellow and gold. Like a sunrise on Mars. For one idiotic moment Caleb wished he had his pencils.

And, finally, flames themselves were visible over the horizon. Caleb glanced at the CFA shed. He should have raced outside, should have waved the fire engine down. Made them take Penelope. He could hear the fire now. The approaching roar.

His stomach clenched. Impulsively, he grabbed a Roman coin pendant Penelope admired from the window display. Sliding it into his pocket, he reached for her hand. And tasted smoke. Wind-borne embers were attacking ahead of the front. Then the store was on fire. The building shook. Smoke outside was dirty. He had to take her into that! Push his beautiful yellow Penelope into those brown gusts and grey soot…

The roof behind them crashed in and a moment later, the purple curtains were ablaze. ‘We’ve gotta get out of here!’ he yelled.

She didn’t move, maybe couldn’t hear him beneath the roaring crescendo of flames. He had to pull her through the door. Caleb coughed, imagining he emitted smoke, a wounded dragon, and catching himself in the window over her shoulder. His face was black, except his eyes, once protected by sunglasses, now circled with grey. Penelope’s eyes reflected flames.

Smoke billowed at them in long grey clouds, an army of ghosts invading Brunton. The wind and flames and crash of buildings created a hellish roar.

Fireballs burst from the sky, embers fired like machine gun fire. On the street, quiet country town Brunton – too quiet, Caleb often thought – became a city of flames and smoke. He clutched Sean the Adventurer under his arm, his throat closing over. Skyscrapers of brilliant orange stretched through layers of billowing grey and black. Embers swirled, orange rain.

Flames captured a petrol station at the edge of town. Caleb’s mind seized on those two concepts.

Fire.

Petrol.

It happened so quickly. He pulled Penelope closer to him and ran. The petrol station exploded. The pumps, first, a line of them.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Then a succession of smaller explosions. Gas bottles along one wall? The fire was moving still, chasing them down.

Above Penelope, a branch swayed, lurched, yearning to dive, crush, devour.