Wildfire (6 page)

Petra gave Wanasri and the others a pep talk as they pulled on their gear. ‘The other crews have cleared the ground floor. You’ve got to check the top floor. The guys think the manager is up there as he’s the only one unaccounted for. The fire’s been knocked back to the ground floor, so you’ll have to be quick. Take breathing gear.’ She opened a hatch at the side of the red truck. Backpacks and masks were hanging there ready on pegs.

Wanasri picked up a breathing pack and shrugged it over her bony shoulders onto her back.

Andy was watching her as she did up the fastening. ‘Is this your first time inside?’

Wanasri guessed Andy was wondering if she would freeze again. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll be OK.’ She took down a mask, wiped the visor clean and pulled it over
her head. It smelled of rubber and smoke. She took a few moments to acclimatize. She hated wearing the mask. You couldn’t see very well through the goggles and it stopped you hearing anything but your own breathing. And it was always unsettling to put one on and breathe the smell of the previous fire. It always made Wanasri wonder, How had that one turned out?

Darren clapped her on the back. ‘Come on, let’s go!’

Wanasri pulled her helmet on, grabbed a small extinguisher and ran with them up the metal fire escape on the outside of the building. Darren jemmied open the fire door with a crowbar and they were in.

The interior of the building was black with smoke. The heat was like opening an oven door.

Although the Engine 33 crew carried small extinguishers, it wasn’t their job now to put out flames. Wanasri, Petra, Darren and Andy would have to rely on the firefighters outside to do that.

Petra switched on her torch and touched Darren on the shoulder. That was the signal to pair off. They started to walk carefully into the darkened warehouse.
The smoke swallowed them up. They became invisible, except for flashes of torchlight glancing on glowing yellow bands.

Wanasri and Andy set off towards the right-hand side of the building. They stayed close together, walking slowly. Wanasri’s amplified breathing sucked and rasped in her ears. Her torch turned the smoke into glowing fog. They had to move by feel, which made the search process agonizingly slow. That was why they needed four people to search one floor in a warehouse.

Along the middle of the room, a series of metal shelves was stacked with surfboards. The paint was peeling in the heat. Wanasri noted that and was glad of her mask. She was a surfer herself and knew the materials in the boards could combust and give off poisonous fumes.

She noticed that the fire was licking along the skirting boards. Were her eyes getting used to the gloom, or was the fire on the floor below burning harder? At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before the walls up here caught as well.

Wanasri took another step and felt something give
under her feet. Too late, she registered what was happening. The floorboards had given way, and she was crashing through! Beyond her feet was a hungry mass of flames.

She was falling into them—

Suddenly something stopped her. As she was dragged back, she looked round in shock. Andy had managed to catch the straps of her airpack, and he hauled her back onto her feet. Her breath roared inside her respirator. Below, the flames burned and crackled. If she had fallen through she would have been trapped down there.

She’d had a narrow escape.

There was no time now to think about that, though. She still had a job to do. She tore her gaze away from the flames that had so nearly claimed her and continued her search, stepping even more carefully through the building.

She saw movement ahead, a flash of fluorescent jacket in her torchlight. Petra was bending over something on the floor, then she straightened up slowly. Over her shoulder was a limp figure wearing a breathing mask.

They had found the manager. And he was alive. Wanasri went to help Petra carry him down.

Bel was in the foyer waiting for Major Kurtis. He had gone out to post a birthday card to his wife. Surely that shouldn’t take long? She looked at her watch. He’d been gone for ten minutes, even though he was supposed to be on the panel debating weather fore-casting technology and it was starting in barely five minutes. She needed to brief him, but they were fast running out of time.

Outside was a group of environmental campaigners with placards. They had been gathering since early that morning, eager to join in the public debate later in the afternoon. Some of them wore T-shirts from old Fragile Earth campaigns. Good for you, thought Bel.

Others carried placards. She saw:
WHAT REALLY CAUSED THE OZONE LAYER HOLE
? And
STOP SECRET US EXPERIMENTS
.

That one must be from the mysterious Oz Protectors who had leafleted Jonny Cale that morning. If she got time before the public debate, she’d
go and chat to them and find out what their issues were.

Bel looked at her watch. In fact, if the major didn’t hurry up and come back, maybe she’d haul the campaigners in to take his place.

When she looked back at the door, the campaigners’ placards had moved. Before, they had been spread out in a line; now they were bunched together around something, and there was shouting.

The conference centre security guard pulled open the door and went outside. Curious, Bel followed him.

Before she even got as far as the door, the guard was coming back. He had a sheltering arm around Major Kurtis and was barging protestors out of the way as he escorted him back into the foyer.

‘What happened to you?’ said Bel.

‘The rent-a-mob guys collared me.’ The major had an Oz Protectors leaflet in his hand. He crumpled it into a ball and dropped it into the rubbish bin. ‘They see the uniform and they all think the worst.’

Bel folded her arms. ‘Well, that’s not entirely surprising, is it? The United States has the worst
record on green issues. These people protest because they care, and thank God they do.’

‘I’m not arguing with that,’ said the major, still clearly rattled by his encounter with the protestors. ‘But not every bad thing that happens in the world is the fault of the US, you know.’

Bel stepped aside to let a group of delegates go through into the auditorium. ‘Time’s getting on, we need to talk about this debate. We’ve had to change the other speaker … Ah, here he is.’ She waved, and a figure walking down the stairs waved back and started walking towards them. ‘Dr Yamanouchi?’

The elderly man in a rumpled corduroy suit, his black hair threaded with grey, was about to greet Bel when his eyes opened wide with surprise.

‘Brad Kurtis. I didn’t recognize you at first.’

‘Dr Yamanouchi,’ replied the major. ‘How are you?’

‘Do you two know each other?’ said Bel.

‘Dr Yamanouchi was my tutor at Harvard,’ replied the major.

The doctor looked at the major again, shaking his head. ‘You know, the last thing I would have expected was to see you in a military uniform.’

The major gave Dr Yamanouchi a broad Texan smile. ‘It’s not what I imagined myself doing twenty years ago, but it’s worked out quite well.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re a soldier,’ said the doctor. ‘You must have sold them one of your vastly impractical schemes.’

Bel was interested. ‘His schemes?’

Major Kurtis smoothed his hand over his cropped hair. ‘My strength was theoretical research. Whereas Dr Yamanouchi thought I should be finding new ways to analyse rainfall.’

‘Yes, I still remember Brad going on about weather control. He talked about nothing else for months. You had your head in the clouds in those days.’

Major Kurtis gave a forced laugh. ‘Well, at least I’ve moved on from that. Those corduroy trousers look like the same ones you used to wear twenty years ago.’

Bel put her hands up to call for silence. ‘Time out, guys. Save it for in there. If you two argue like that on the stage we’re going to have a great debate. Let’s get this show on the road.’

As Bel shepherded them into the auditorium, she heard a rapping noise on the window outside.
She turned and saw one of the campaigners waving. He pressed a placard up against the window and rapped on the glass again, as if trying to reinforce its message:

STOP SECRET US EXPERIMENTS
.

Ben was up in the microlight again. Down below were the gentle hills and valleys of the vineyards. Kelly had planned a flight path that steered well clear of the fire area.

And Ben had control.

Kelly’s voice came through on his headset. ‘Let’s practise those turns. Remember, don’t just use the stick, use the pedals as well. Don’t turn too sharply because you’ll lose airspeed. Feel what the craft is doing by watching your horizon.’

Ben executed a flawless turn. The horizon barely tilted.

‘Very good,’ said Kelly. ‘Now try the other way.’

Ben had a little think about what each hand and leg had to do, then turned the craft expertly left. Whatever Kelly might say, it wasn’t that different from flight sims on the PC.

‘Always make sure you come back to level after you’ve turned; don’t just assume you have. We try to keep the plane as level as possible. Now tell me your height.’

She certainly was giving him a thorough lesson. Ben took a moment to locate the altimeter. ‘Eleven hundred feet.’

‘That’s getting a bit low. We want to be no lower than a thousand feet unless we’re coming in to land. We prefer to be at fifteen hundred to two thousand feet, because that gives us a bit of leeway in case we drift down or the weather conditions take us by surprise. So gently point the nose upwards and open the throttle – that’s the stick on your left-hand side by the door. Pull it up to increase the revs.’

Ben grasped the throttle. With his right hand he raised the nose and with the left he pulled the throttle
lever up. The engine became louder. He felt it pull harder. The plane began to climb.

‘Watch the horizon,’ said Kelly. ‘You don’t want to go too steeply. Take her steadily.’ She peered out of the window.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Ben. ‘Have we dropped something?’

‘I’m keeping an eye on the ground. In case we have to ditch.’

‘Why would we want to ditch?’

‘It’s just something you always have to watch out for. You should be doing it really.’

Ben looked at the altimeter. ‘We’re at fifteen hundred feet now.’

‘That’ll do. Ease off the throttle and let the nose come level.’

Ben did as he was told. The engine became quieter. He sat back, took his hands and feet off the controls and let the plane cruise.

But Kelly didn’t think his job was done. ‘What’s your bearing? Are we still on course or have we drifted?’

Ben checked the compass. ‘Heading south-west. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ Kelly looked out of the window again. Ben wished she wouldn’t keep doing that.

‘Look at what’s below us,’ said Kelly’s voice in his headphones.

Ben looked out of the side window. Below them was a vineyard, a rolling tapestry of golden leaves sprinkled with purple. ‘Trees and stuff,’ he said.

‘And what else?’

‘A big hill.’ He straightened up again. Looking down like that made him feel a bit queasy.

‘What height are you at?’ said Kelly.

He gave Kelly a smile. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get over the hill.’

‘Look at the altimeter,’ said Kelly.

Ben suspected she was doing this to bug him so that he’d be grateful when the lesson was over. ‘I told you a moment ago, we’re at fifteen hundred feet. And I haven’t changed anything. So we’re still at fifteen hundred feet.’

‘Just look at the darned instruments.’

Ben pointed to the altimeter as if to emphasize that he was right. And got a surprise. ‘Oh. It says seventeen hundred feet.’

‘Right, mister vidgame pilot. You get thermals from hills and woods, and they take you up or down without you realizing it. You need to adjust to fifteen hundred feet again. And then, when we’re over the ridge, check the thermals haven’t taken us down. And that we’re still on course.’

‘Is there anything else you want me to do at the same time?’ said Ben. His brain hurt.

‘You wanted to learn to fly – well, I’m teaching you. You don’t just sit here and put your feet up, or fix yourself a cup of coffee. And by the way, you’re getting off lightly. You should also be checking the map, the amount of fuel you have left and how long you’ve been up. Oh, and as I said, keep an eye out for likely landing sites.’

As Ben made the adjustments, Kelly sat back, resting her elbow along the window and drumming her fingers. ‘You know, I once had to land a microlight on the West Seattle Bridge as part of a display. Although the bridge was straight and wide enough, there were air currents because of the river. It was a real test of skill. You had to feel what the plane was doing, and if you took your eye off the ball for just a moment—’

‘Save it for when you need to impress George,’ said Ben.

The house was on a hill. A two-storey building over-looking the woods on one side and the Adelaide botanical gardens on the other, it was now shrouded in smoke and steam as thick as a sea fog. The woods were on fire and three crews were trying to stop the flames reaching the house. Engine 33 was one of them.