Chapter 13
Xavier
The snake was under the water. Somewhere. Between my legs. Against my knees. Wrapped around my ankle for all I knew.
I couldn't feel it. I couldn't see where it was through the murky, ash-filled water.
My chest tightened. My vision tunneled.
I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't lie in this fucking bathtub with mice crawling over me, a goddamn python coiled around my body, and smoke choking the hell out of?—
"No." The word ripped out of me. "I can’t do this. I'm done!"
"Xavier, wait?—"
A roar tore from my throat, loaded with rage and terror, like a goddammed animal. I yanked my arm out from under Cassidy, ignoring her yelp of pain as I shoved upward.
"Xavier, don't!"
I braced against the edge of the tub and heaved upward.
"What are you doing? Stop!"
Growling like a beast, I shoved the frame and door off the bathtub, and they crashed to the floor.
"Xavier, calm down!"
I couldn't stop. I couldn’t breathe. “I have to get out of here!”
I launched out of the bath, spilling water everywhere. Mice scattered across the floor, squeaking and scrambling.
My shoes hit the wet floor, and I nearly slipped, catching myself against the wall.
"Xavier! Wait!"
Cassidy's cries barely reached me as I stormed to the bathroom door. I yanked it open, and the room beyond was thick with smoke, hanging in layers like fog. I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.
I didn't care. I had to get out.
I charged into the smoke, choking and gasping, desperate to escape.
I found the front door by memory more than by sight, and fumbled for the handle.
I yanked it open, and hot air rushed in.
Rancid smoke flooded my lungs, making me cough as I stumbled onto the verandah and dragged in another breath.
It was still tarnished with smoke, but much better than the air inside that cottage.
I inhaled again, sucking in fresher air and taking a moment to breathe.
The verandah was still there. I’d expected it to be reduced to charcoal and ash. The steps were there, too. Black and blistered, but intact. A couple of the timber railings had fallen off, but most had survived the fire.
Beyond the verandah, the landscape had transformed.
The moon hung visible again, pale and ghostly through the thinning smoke.
In the distance, flames still glowed, and orange embers scattered across the black hills like dying stars.
Spot fires smoldered in the ruins of what used to be bushland.
The long grass had been scorched to ash, the earth beneath it charred like charcoal.
One of the massive gum trees stood blackened, its branches stripped away.
The other two, miraculously, looked untouched.
A faint glow illuminated the horizon.
I frowned. Jesus. Is that sunrise?
"You absolute maniac!"
I spun around.
Cassidy stumbled through the doorway, dripping wet, covered in soot and ash, her hair plastered to her face.
"What the hell was that?" Her eyes blazed with fury as she marched to me and shoved my shoulder. "You could've killed us, you bloody—" She stopped, her gaze sweeping over me, and some of the anger drained from her face. "You okay?"
"No. There was a snake in the water." My voice shook and came out weirdly high-pitched. "In the bathtub. With us."
"I know. I was there." She bulged her bloodshot eyes. "Remember?"
"Well, shit. How are you so calm about that?"
A tiny smirk touched her lips. "I told you. It was harmless."
"Harm—" I shuddered. "I don't care. That was fucked up."
"Calm down, cupcake." She clapped my bicep. "At least you waited until the danger was over."
I winced. "Well, that was just luck."
Cassidy heaved a massive sigh and moved to the edge of the verandah, staring out at the devastation. "Surviving that bushfire was lucky."
"It wasn't just luck." I joined her and looked across the blackened paddock. "Your quick thinking before the fire hit is the reason we survived."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she turned to look at me, and I couldn't work out her expression. Part amusement, part confusion. "Maybe it was your meditation thingy. Survive. Survive." She wiggled her fingers like she was conjuring a genie. “Survive.”
"Hey. It worked. You were freaking out in there."
"No, I wasn't." She rolled her eyes.
"Ahh, yeah, you were."
"That wasn't freaking out. You, tearing out of there like you had a snake in your pants, that was freaking out."
I laughed. "Well, you can't really blame me."
She giggled and, shaking her head, scanned along the verandah. The timber boards were black in patches. The roof had a massive hole in it. The walls were scorched in places, but still fine. But just like those trees, the verandah was miraculously still standing. Just like the old cottage.
If I were a betting man—which I damn well wasn't—I would have bet that most of this old, timber shack would have burned to nothing. Thank Christ, I was wrong.
We stood there in silence as tendrils of smoke drifted across the scorched earth. The air still reeked of burned eucalyptus, ash, and something else. Something toxic I couldn't put my finger on.
She turned and gave me a lopsided smile. "We made a good team."
"You were a good leader."
She huffed. "There you go again. Being nice."
"I told you, I'm always nice."
Cassidy coughed, then grimaced. "Man, I need a drink. Come on, let's go see if the water tank survived."
"I hope so. I feel like I've inhaled a bonfire."
"We practically did."
We climbed down the blackened steps and, walking side by side, picked our way across the scorched ground to the back of the cottage.
My wet socks squelched in my shoes. The southern side showed no signs of fire damage, and most of the long grass was still green.
Just before we reached the water tank, we paused to stomp out a small fire that was busy reducing a bush to ash.
The tank had scorch marks along the corrugated metal and was slightly warped from the heat, yet, thankfully, it had survived.
Cassidy turned the tap, and as water gushed out, we took turns drinking and splashing water over our faces.
The water was warm and tasted like smoke, but I didn't care. I drank until my stomach hurt, spitting out soot and crap.
When I looked at her, she still had a streak of black ash across her chin. "You missed a spot." I brushed my thumb across her skin, wiping away the mark. Her lips parted slightly, and I was surprised she didn't pull away. "There." I smiled. "All clean."
Cassidy blinked, then stepped back, clearing her throat.
"What?" I asked, frowning.
“You surprised me last night.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
She swept her wet hair over her bare shoulders, avoiding my eyes. "You're tougher than you look, cupcake."
I scowled. "I think I've earned an upgrade from cupcake after battling a bushfire with you."
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Fine. How about muffin?"
I chuckled. "You're such a hardass."
She turned and slapped her butt. "That I am. Come on, let's put out these spot fires so the flames don’t take off again."
She strode toward a blazing twig beneath the burned gum tree and stomped it out with her cowboy boot.
I stepped back to look at the roof. The massive hole from the cave-in was at least ten feet across.
Charred rafters jutted out like broken ribs, and the remaining tin was warped and buckled.
An enormous branch lay across most of the middle.
That explained the massive bang we’d heard.
Thank Christ that roof had held up through that.
"What do you think happened to the possums? " I asked.
"You heard how fast they run. Those things were halfway to Brisbane before the fire hit us."
She turned back toward the cottage, surveying the damage. "I still can't believe the whole place didn't go up in smoke."
"I want to agree that it's weird, but we must’ve done enough with that water to save it."
"Yeah. Must have."
I followed her around the cottage, stamping out embers and assessing the damage.
When we reached the kitchen side, we stopped short.
The fire was still chewing through the weatherboards, and red-hot coals glowed between the planks.
Tiny flames licked at the wood, and the paint bubbled and peeled back in curling strips, exposing charred timber beneath.
"Shit. Grab the other bucket inside," Cassidy said, sprinting toward the tank.
I raced inside, grabbed the second bucket, and filled it at the tank.
We doused the smoldering boards, the water hissing and steaming as thick smoke billowed up from the hot surface.
It took four more buckets of water before the flames finally died, and we stepped back.
"It's a wonder the whole cottage wasn't burned like that," she said, dropping the bucket at her side.
"Maybe whoever built it put fire-retardant paint on the exterior walls."
I leaned over to peer through the hole where the fire had torn through the wall. Timber boards had been reduced to charred splinters, exposing the shelving beneath the kitchen bench. Blackened cans and melted containers sat among the ash.
"Damn, looks like a crime scene in there," I said.
"Looks like the tomato soup couldn’t handle the heat and exploded. I hope some of those cans survived. I'm starving."
"Yeah, me, too."
She scrunched up her nose. "I'm sorry I didn't share those beans with you last night."
"That's okay. You were pissed at me. I get it."
She tilted her head, studying me for a moment like she was trying to figure something out. "Huh." She picked up the bucket and strode to a small bush to stomp out the flames.
I followed her. "Huh, what?"
She straightened, wiping sweat from her brow as she turned toward the horizon. "Hey, will you look at that? We've been awake all night." She pointed at the faint orange glow in the distance.
"I'm not surprised. I feel like I haven't slept in a week."
The pre-dawn light caught the angles of her face. "You need to toughen up, muffin."
"Don't try to pretend you're not knackered, too."