‘Go!’ Jack yelled, pushing me towards the truck.

He heaved Joanne over his shoulders and carried her to the tanker. Then he radioed again for help. I peered around. ‘Everyone here?’ Jack asked.

No one answered. Perhaps only I heard. The fire’s roar was so loud. Jack climbed out, dragging the hose and turning on the water pump. The hose thrashed into life, hissing like a python.

‘You’re gunna be okay!’ Jack yelled at me, and then his attention was only on the fire. It wafted over us like a shaken blanket.

Dear God. Caleb, where are you? Be safe. Be safer than us.

Jack sprayed Craig first, then pointed the nozzle into the air so water fell, an odd protective umbrella of rain, over us then the truck. The fire laughed, blowing scalding steam at us. In the middle distance, a eucalypt exploded. Falling branches rained arrows. A nearby tree swayed in the buffeting wind. If it collapsed, we’d be crushed.

A sudden gust of wind parted the curtain of smoke. In the distance, a zigzag of purple lightning cut the air. The smoke curtain fell shut.

Jack turned to the others, and yelled, ‘Hold on!’

This was it. The burnover. Jack clung onto the fire engine. We all followed. While we clung, the southerly change finally hit. This close to the centre of the fire, it was like a cyclone. My feet were lifted from the ground. The wind tore at Jack’s uniform.

Heavy ash-dyed rain dropped. The noise hadn’t abated. My mind flashed on ancient images of the fires of Hell.

The world roared and shook and burned. This had to be the end.

And then eventually the noise abated, a little. The air calmed, slightly. The fire moved on.

Jack released his ferocious grip and walked around the vehicle. I followed him. In horror, I counted five yellow-clad bodies.

His colleagues. Were they dead?

Jack crouched beside one body, hand on a yellow shoulder. The firefighter sat up, pushing back his helmet, coughing. One after another, the others heaved themselves to sitting positions.

Jack collapsed with relief, hands clenching his ash-covered pants, just above his bent knees. Then he shook his head and pulled himself upright. ‘Can we account for everyone?’

‘Yes!’ Craig yelled. ‘Yes!’

Jack pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his face with one sleeve. We’d survived.

‘We’ll have to walk back into town.’

Jack pulled a blanket from the near-destroyed tanker. I used it to cover my face and filter the air. In a line, we filed from the tanker, back towards the highway and Brunton. No point asking about the Morgans. We’d been headed to their house, but couldn’t help them now.

We trudged and trudged. All was black and soot and ash. Joanne, arms stretched over two colleagues’ shoulders, pulled her lips tight in a face gleaming white with pain along the tear tracks where ashes had been cleared away. Occasional flares of flaming bark illuminated our way. My feet ached. I’d never owned anything appropriate for this. My exhaustion wafted over me again and again with the smoke. I wanted to close my eyes but I needed to see Caleb. To walk and find Caleb.