Page 107 of Wandering Souls

“Abigail?”

He used her given name. That was never a good sign, wasn’t it? “Sorry, Sir.”

He sat beside her. “Can I be blunt?”

She blinked. “Yes, Sir.”

“I’ve known you since you arrived at this base five years ago and in all that time, you’ve seemed lost. This has been your residence. You’re here, or you request to be deployed. You don’t go anywhere else.”

She should be embarrassed.

“A few people have noticed,” he added. “But knowing about the loss of your mother, I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. So, I allowed it. The truth is, I should never have let you return to Kandahar a third time.”

If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been injured, never found theSanctuaryand never discovered her family.

“Why did you?”

His cheeks turned red. “I didn’t know what else to do with you, and you weren’t showing any signs of trauma from your previous tours. But Abigail, there’s something different about you these last few days. I noticed it when you returned. There’s a happiness in your eyes that’s new and my guess is you didn’t just find your family, you found your home.”

Hot tears stung her eyes.

“I thought so. And now it’s under threat.”

She nodded.

He took a deep breath and gave a nod. “Okay, truth time. Despite your virtual flawless performance this week, my final recommendation is for you to be retrained. You’re smart enough to understand that I need to be a hundred percent sure your injuries won’t jeopardize your capacity as a pilot, and you’re also intelligent enough to know that I’m not. That damn metal in your leg is going to cost you everything you’ve worked for and it sucks.” He patted his own leg. “Trust me, I understand. There are other careers in the military and I have no doubt you’d excel in whichever one you chose. The Army can’t really afford to lose you, you’re an asset to the team, butyouhave to want it.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“It’s not my place to say this, but I’m going to anyway. Go home, Abigail. Love your family while you have them, protect your town. Be the pilot you want to be. You’ve served your country proudly. It’s time to look after you. Fall in love, live your life. You deserve to be happy.”

She opened her mouth to speak when the door behind them opened. Damien appeared at her side. “We have to go, Abi. I’m so sorry.”

With a nod to Carter, she stood. “Then I’m coming with you.”

~

Agust of wind showeredthem with ash and embers. Ray ducked his head further into his firefighter’s coat to protect his neck. The heat radiating off the fire threatened to roast him alive underneath all the PPE, but with his face, head and hands covered, he wasn’t likely to sustain any significant burns.

Someone tapped his arm. He turned to find Hollywood signaling that they needed to advance. Leaning all his weight forward, Ray dragged the hose with him. He aimed the nozzle at the base of the trees and pulled the trigger. The force of the water gushing out pushed him back but he held his ground. Smoke drifted across his view as he did his best to douse the flames.

All around them, the bush burned. Trees, shrubs, grasses, nothing was safe. Thick eucalyptus trunks acted like conductors, allowing the fire to gain a height advantage. If the flames reached the canopy where the leaves were filled with eucalyptus oils, they were done for and they’d have to retreat. They couldn’t let that happen.

A second fire tanker pulled up alongside theirs and volunteer firefighters poured out of the cabin, racing to help. More tankers arrived but he doubted there were enough. The terrain was impossible and while they’d found access for now, if the wind pushed the fire into the steep gullies, they’d be helpless to stop it.

Here, south of Wills Crossing and halfway to Bourke’s Ridge, the dense forest hampered their ability to protect it. Without roads or tracks, they had to bulldoze through the thick understory with their tanker, risking tire punctures, falling branches and hidden wombat burrows deep enough to break a man’s leg. But letting the fire go unchecked was not an option.

Ray coughed as smoke stung his eyes. Becoming a volunteer firefighter had sounded like a good idea at the time but the reality was tougher than any thoughts he’d ever had. The roar of the flames sounded more like a freight train, and seeing the wind twist the fire into a mini-tornado was terrifying. It was like watching a cobra emerge from its basket in one of those old movies. There was no flutist playing some tune, only the deafening rumble all around him.

The pressure in his hose faltered and he shut it off. Beside him, Hollywood did the same. They were running low on water. They’d need to refill and soon. His ear bud crackled to life.

“Pull back.”

He wanted to argue but couldn’t. Without water, they were sitting—and soon to be roasted—ducks. Walking backward, Ray closed the gap between the fire front and the truck. The sounds around him mixed together in a catastrophic fracas but above it all, he thought he heard the rhythmic thumps of a chopper blade.

Damien.

About bloody time.

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