Page 131 of Fire Fight

He reaches for it, fingers slipping in the streaming rain, and I rub my hand against my jeans, drying them as best I can. Trying again.

His mouth moves, shouting something the wind snaps away from me, keeping its secrets.

Terror creases deep into the wrinkles of his forehead, drawing jagged lines across the face I’ve spent the past year resenting. But I hold as tight as I can, pulling with all my might, angling my body back to use its weight to advantage.

Inch by inch, he rises until I can take his elbow, supporting him until he’s on his hands and knees on the solid rock. The rain eases, allowing me to make out an expression of gratitude.

Like he truly believes I would save his life after what he’s done.

My head fills with images of the pharmacist. A man who helped me even while I was accusing him. Then they morph to thoughts of my mother. Kind, strong, dependable. A woman who made sure I never felt the lack in my childhood, even as she struggled to provide.

Finally, they switch to Cadence, the girl I love, sitting in a lake of fire.

My lungs seize, refusing to cooperate as my head returns to the moment I tore the safety seal off the extinguisher, not knowing if it would work. Terrified I might lose her forever.

Arnold struggles to get his feet under him, hands still clinging to the rock as he plants them wide apart for balance. Finally, straightening enough to take a step.

When he does, I plant both hands in the centre of his chest, meeting his eyes as I shove him with all my might.

He falls awkwardly, clawing at the debris left behind by the landslip, too low to reach the solidity of the rock again.

But his fumbling fingers snag on an old root, part of the felled tree above the path. His lips pull back from his teeth as he glares in triumph, preparing to haul himself upwards again.

And I drop to my butt, scooting close to the edge, stomping down with all my force, feeling when his grip loosens. The scream as he falls lost to the roaring wind.

The extra pageantry is necessary because I want him to die, but more than that.

I want him to know it’s deliberate.

Job done.

The path is more like a rapid stream as I push myself far back from the edge, thunder rolling across the sky, louder than the tinnitus from the shotgun.

Louder than my rapid pulse, my thundering heartbeat.

When control returns, I crawl up the steep path until I’m back on the safety of the concrete platform, clambering to my feet to lean on the iron railing, staring down at the beach below.

It’s hard to find his broken body in the mess of rocks and stones and earth and sand.

Lightning flashes again.

It illuminates his white face, the arm extending like he’s still reaching for help. But another flash shows that’s just the way his body broke. The torrential rain soon pummels it level; a new landslip coats him with fresh earth, like the ground itself is giving him a funeral, tossing the sods on his coffin while his body surrenders to its new resting place.

“Drake!”

I turn and Cadence is there, holding her arms wide in welcome. I hug her until I can’t breathe, needed her comfort far more than I need air, ignoring the pain.

“Is he gone?”

My gaze travels down to the beach, even with a new lightning flash I can’t pick out his body from his grave.

“He’s gone,” I whisper, and although it seems impossible that she’ll hear me above the thunderstorm, her arms squeeze a little tighter.

We move towards the relative calm of the house, the reek of petrol and extinguisher foam enough to turn my stomach as Cadence opens her embrace enough to pull her mother into the hug.

The only time I draw back from them is to reach into my pocket, pulling out my lighter while Cadence frowns in confusion and Raelene yelps in alarm.

“Sorry, just… If I never see a fire again, it’ll be too soon,” I explain, walking onto the back patio.

---