Reid took the canteen back from him and handed him another one. Flynn took another drink and held onto it this time. ‘We have to catch this bastard.’
Reid took his fire helmet off his head and ran his hands through his thick, sweaty hair. ‘Why would someone do this?’
‘Prita. They’re coming after Prita.’
‘What?’
He wanted to go sit down—his legs were shaking and there was a dull throb starting in his head. But he didn’t want anyone else overhearing what they’d told the police, what this fire had one hundred percent confirmed, especially given he had no idea who was involved. He started to talk but the words sounded strange, like he wasn’t quite speaking English. Reid was looking at him a bit strangely. Perhaps it was time to head up to the ute, go home. He would, as soon as he could unlock his knees and make his legs move. Everything felt a bit weird. Flynn rubbed his forehead where the sick ache was starting to make itself truly known. He probably hadn’t drunk enough while fighting the fire. Had he drunk anything at all? He couldn’t remember. He swallowed another gulp of water and had to close his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Was the ground moving? He suddenly became aware his knee was aching like a bitch.
‘Are you okay?’
Flynn shrugged Reid’s hand away. ‘Fine.’ The word was truly slurred this time. ‘I’m fine,’ he said again, enunciating it with teeth snapping accuracy.
‘You don’t look fine. I think maybe you pushed too hard. Did you have a break?’
‘I don’t know. I think yes. Perhaps. Knee’s a bit sore.’
‘Maybe you should go sit down.’
‘I donwannasitdown.’ He wished Reid would stop pushing him, stop talking so loudly. His head was truly pounding now. Humidity and heat haze were making everything dance around him. He had to get out of here. Before the scent began to sink into his pores, his nose. He had to get home and get these clothes in the washing machine with the eucalyptus and lavender wash that got the smell out the best and then get into the shower to scrub it all away—the dirt, the smoke smears, the dust, the memories. Then he’d have to find Prita and see if they could sneak away. Except, they’d fought, hadn’t they? She’d said they were one and he’d … he’d …
‘Flynn.’ Reid’s voice came from far away although his face was right there in front of him. If he reached out, he could rub that smear of soot off his nephew’s nose. In fact, perhaps he should, just like he had when they were young, looking after his nephew so he wouldn’t get in trouble for coming inside the house dirty. He lifted his hand, a sound like a giggle escaping him.
Reid pushed his hand away and turned to yell to someone up the track. Flynn swung groggily around, staggered as his knee protested. Reid caught him and called out, ‘Doc!’
Doc? Flynn peered through the haze and smoke. Nat and Prita were coming down the track towards them. Nat was decked out in her CFA yellow overalls and hard hat and was strapping a tank of retardant on her back. Prita didn’t have overalls on, but was wearing a hardhat, the heavy fall of dark glossy hair bouncing on her shoulder as she ran towards them. Why was she here? She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. The bastard who was after her might be here. Besides, there was no way this smoky atmosphere could be good for her recovering lungs. She’d only been out of hospital for a few days. He noticed something bouncing on her back. It looked suspiciously like another fire-retardant tank backpack.
What the hell? She didn’t think she was going out to help with the aftermath, did she?
He couldn’t let her do that. Couldn’t let her put herself in danger like that. She could be killed.
Black hazed his vision at the thought and he blinked. Refocused. She was coming towards him, pulling the pack off her back. As if she were about to squirt the still smoking patches along the roadside under the smouldering trees.
Something creaked above her head, but she didn’t look up, just kept moving forward.
Crack. The rushing crumble of a limb coming clear of the burned thing that had once been a huge ghost gum, twigs and smaller branches coming off as it fell down, down, towards her. She glanced up and went to dive sideways, but the tank on her back was so cumbersome, she couldn’t move fast enough.
He cried out, stumbling forward, the pain in his knee knife jabs with every step, slowing him down. He wouldn’t get to her in time.
Not again. Not again. He wouldn’t lose her again.
His arms closed around her, picking her up, swinging her around, his knee giving way, making him stumble, fall, with her in his arms. He had to protect her. He arched over her, covering her body with his, waiting for the crushing weight of the branch to strike.
Nothing happened. From a distance, he heard someone calling his name. He looked up. Reid and Nat were standing there. Mac and Ben were there too. Max Smith and the Lions and the Finchers and Colin Ferguson and Peter Duggins. Even Chandra and his boyfriend—what the fuck were they doing here?—were running up behind them, as were Bob Thompson and his son. They stopped. Staring. At him. Something moved in his arms and he looked down to see Prita under him, her eyes wide and full of tears and a flash of fear. She should be afraid. Shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t safe. He looked up at the others who were still standing there as if frozen,
