Chapter 22 #2
“The plan is every single animal we have in here survives today.” Her gaze was steady, sure. “But people are our first priority, Mackenzie. Tell me you understand that.”
I agreed, but some part of my heart rebelled. After she’d left, the clang of the refuge door having me jumping, I crouched down and Nugget came snuffling over.
“Can’t leave you behind, can I, buddy?” My fingers sank into his thick fur and apparently all was forgiven as the wombat leaned into my caress. “I saved you from a bull…”
But a wildfire was a whole other thing, as I was about to find out.
The sound of the wind picking up was the first thing I noticed.
My eyes were flicking everywhere, just like the kangaroos were.
A little paw wrapped around my arm, and when I looked up, the joeys clustered closer.
Feeling the fine tremor running through their bodies, the rapid beats of their hearts, I knew things were getting worse.
A glance down at the CFS website showed me where blazes were being fought as red markers on a map, but that did little to communicate the reality.
The stink of smoke was the next thing. Getting thicker, forcing my lungs to seize, not wanting to take in another breath, but there was no choice there.
Lungful after lungful of smoky air had me coughing, which just startled the joeys.
They bounded away, because all that adrenaline had to go somewhere and that was bad.
Hopping off without thought, some slammed straight into the fences, letting out small sounds of protest as they jumped again and again, sure there was a way out.
“You silly…” I let out another cough, then grabbed a bottle of water, trying desperately to wash away the scratchy feeling in my throat. “It’s just me coughing.”
But on some level I knew what was happening.
When I was a little girl, a wildfire had burned through our valley. We went to bed, woke up to the sight of a hellscape. The sky turned red, the air full of smoke and while our house wasn’t in its path, I’d pressed my face to the window and watched the red glowing hills obsessively.
Mom redirected me away.
Trying to distract me with my favourite TV show first, then a board game, none of it worked.
You can’t push away this kind of primal fear.
Instead, she’d pulled me into her lap, rocking me back and forth as she sang a song, and that had done the trick.
Some part of my child’s mind couldn’t be scared, not when Mom was singing old Fleetwood Mac songs.
So that’s what I tried right now.
Not Stevie Nicks, even though my voice had turned croaky and raspy from the smoke.
I remembered the first time I walked into the rescue and had stared wide eyed as all the animals came rushing over.
Snow White, that’s what I channelled right now.
The words to With A Smile and a Song came to me slowly, but I recalled the moment when Snow White serenaded the forest animals, luring them closer.
My voice was squeaky, out of tune and frankly terrible, but the joeys turned around.
Nugget huffed, which was probably an indicator of how bad I sounded, but when he came trundling over to press into my legs, the joeys hopped tentatively closer.
Brown eyes, wide and shining, stared at me as the memory came back.
I looked after them, fed and watered them.
Some I had bottle fed and that meant I’d earned some cred.
The joeys came closer, soon pressing into my sides as I sat on the ground.
Possums came scrambling down from the trees and one ended up scurrying over my shoulders, then shoving his head under my collar and nestling in against my skin.
I sang and I sang, between drinks of water, with my phone sitting in front of me.
Red icons popped up on the map, marking each and every fire that was currently raging and I tried as hard as I could not to let the fear I felt bleed into my voice.
“Simpson fire’s out.” The crackle of the radio had the animals startling, but I couldn’t have been gladder to hear the news. “Looks like the one in the forest off Williamson Rd is out as well.”
“Ground crew needs to come through, check for embers or hotspots,” said someone else.
I didn’t understand what they were doing, or why, but I did know this. Taking a full breath felt possible for a moment, and after I let out a sigh from the depths of my soul, I picked up my phone, ready to text Mom that we were in the all clear, when a loud clang had me looking up.
Nugget was bunting the door of the rescue with his head. He did this to indicate he was done with being inside and most of the time, we indulged him.
“Nugget—” I said, rising to my feet and then grabbing the sleepy-eyed possum that poked his head out of my shirt.
Clang!
“Nugget!”
The stocky creature stared at me for a second, then went back to bunting the door.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The possum flung himself off me, obviously wanting to escape the noise, but the wombat? He just wanted to escape.
And right as I went to stop him, the method to his madness became apparent.
The door rattled on its hinges, the latch as well, and the force he was using was enough to pop the lock, leaving me to watch the door swing open.
“Nugget!” I shouted, lunging forward, but the beast was trundling off seconds later and outside the door.
It was as if the wombat was a major at the head of his forces. Joeys and magpies and echidnas came scurrying forward, forcing me to intercept by throwing myself outside and shutting the door behind me.
“Nugget!”
The wombat paused for a second, then looked over his shoulder, before making a beeline for the track that led away from the farm. If he walked for long enough, he’d come to the forest.
Charlie had given me one job: to protect the rescue, and I hadn’t even managed to do that.
My eyes found the place where he disappeared under the fence, then went running towards the trees and then I had the car keys in my hand.
Leaping into the 4WD, I turned the engine over, then pushed the car forward, intent on going after him.