Bushfire Bride

by Marion Lennox

  Surely she wouldn’t still be in the house?

  ‘Sue-Ellen…’

  Something hit his legs-something alive. He looked down to see a half-grown collie pup whining in terror. Scratching at the door. Whining again…

  Dear God.

  The dog’s body language was unmistakable. She was inside.

  For something that had threatened for so long, it was over with a speed that was frightening all by itself. One minute the population of Cowral was crouched in the shallows while the fire blasted its way right over their heads. The next the front had moved on. The air was still choked with smoke and debris but the roaring receded. The feeling that the very air required to breathe was being sucked away was replaced by the same choking, thick sensation that had been with them most of the day.

  With the passing of the front the wind dropped. The fire had made its own wind. A vortex. That’s what the firefighters had said could happen and now Rachel believed them.

  Toby was still cradled in her arms. Myra was beside them, their bodies a threesome of contact with the waves splashing over them in a rhythm that had been crazily undisturbed by the fire.

  Rachel pushed back her blanket and peered cautiously out.

  Around her everyone was doing the same-a field of grey, sodden ghosts arising from the ashes. Katy and her baby. The ancient Bridget, hauling back her blanket herself and peering out with an interest that belied her hundred years.

  Casualties?

  Sam was beside her, pushing himself out from underneath something that looked like a vast eiderdown. His wife was beside him. Sylvia Nieve still had a head full of hair-rollers and as she pushed back the eiderdown she gave them a cautious pat. Making sure of what was important.

  ‘Did everyone get to the beach?’ Rachel asked, and the cold feeling of dread in the pit of her heart felt like a lump of lead.

  ‘Elaine Baxter and Les Harding arrived just as it hit,’ Ian told her. ‘One of the men got bitten by one of Les’s cats. The cats are here in a cage-if someone hasn’t drowned them.’

  ‘But Hugo…?’ she asked.

  ‘He didn’t come back. He’ll have been well into the hills when it hit.’

  ‘Seeing his patient,’ Rachel said swiftly, as Toby turned a fearful face toward Sam. She had to stay calm. Hysterics would help no one. ‘There was a lady who’s ill up in the hills and your daddy has gone to look after her. And I need to go, too. Toby, can you stay with Myra while your daddy and I keep on working? I’ll see anyone here who needs help and then… Sam, how long do you think before we can get through to Sue-Ellen’s place?’

  ‘I’ll check with the fire chief,’ Sam told her.

  ‘As soon as it’s safe to move, let me know,’ Rachel told him. She gave Toby a hard hug, as much to reassure herself as to reassure Toby. ‘Hugo might… Hugo might need help.’

  ‘The chief’ll send a tanker.’

  ‘I’ll come, too.’

  She worked solidly on the beach, coping with breathing difficulties and myriad minor injuries while she waited for the fire chief to declare it safe to travel through the town to Sue-Ellen’s farmlet beyond.

  ‘I can’t believe how lightly we’ve got off.’ The chief, a grizzled man in his fifties, pushed back his hard hat and wiped his forehead as he surveyed the clearing beach. ‘The storm sucked everything up in its path but we’ve done such a good clearing job around the town that we’ve only lost four houses. And they were holiday accommodation where no one followed orders to clear.’

  Once the firestorm had passed, the townsfolk streamed back to their homes in time to put out spot fires and stop the fire from taking hold. Now the main front had reached the point where land became sea. Cowral was still surrounded by a ring of fire but increasingly the town looked safe.

  But Hugo…

  ‘Can we go?’ Rachel finished wrapping a burned arm with a sterile dressing. A burning branch had been flung into the shallows at the height of the fire-it must have been blown for a quarter of a mile-but the child who’d been hit was already aching to get back to the excitement. Rachel clipped the dressing, gave the boy’s parents a rueful grin and turned back to the fire chief.

  ‘You don’t want to go with us, Doc,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got Gary Lewis on the truck already-he’s been out on the front and when he found out Sue-Ellen didn’t make it to the beach he nearly went berserk. There’s one of you emotionally involved.’

  ‘And you’re not?’

  He met her look square on. And sighed.

  ‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘Then what are we arguing over?’ She was dressed in her firefighting gear. Toby was safe with Myra. There was no one else needing urgent treatment. And somewhere out there was Hugo.

  She definitely needed to go.

  But still the fire chief hesitated. ‘Doc…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not seeing this at its worst,’ he told her. ‘The river’s blocked the worst of the blast here. If we were right before the front…’

  She gazed at his grim face and saw the message he was trying not to tell her. ‘You’re telling me there’s little chance Hugo’s survived?’

  ‘The boys are trying to clear the road now,’ he told her. ‘We’ll let you know.’

  ‘No.’ She straightened her shoulders in an unconscious brace position. ‘I’m a doctor. He… They may be hurt.’

  His eyes met hers. Giving her the truth. ‘To be honest, Doc, the chances are that they’re a lot more than hurt.’

  ‘I know. But if not… I’m bringing medical supplies and I’m coming.’

  Sue-Ellen Lesley lived five minutes’ drive out of town but it took two fire crews half an hour to reach it. Once outside the town boundaries there was thick bush-or what was left of thick bush. Now there was simply smouldering fire.

  Eucalypts burned fast. The trees were already starting to smoulder rather than flame and the smell of burning eucalyptus oil was overpowering. Branches had dropped across the road. Trees were down. Every obstacle they reached had to be dealt with slowly-flames put out and the wood cooled enough to shift. Two fire crews worked in tandem, with a water tanker ferrying water as needed.

  By the time they reached the tiny farmhouse where Sue-Ellen lived, Rachel was almost ready to scream.

  ‘You sure you’re not needed back in town?’ The fire chief’s face was grim as they rounded the last corner. Rachel had been working as hard as any of his team, joining the hard manual labour that had been needed to clear the road. She was working as one of his crew but there were personal issues here. He could see it. The set look on her face had him worried.

  He was worried anyway. One of his boys was emotionally involved with Sue-Ellen and Gary was making himself sick with worry. And as well as Sue-Ellen… Well, this was Doc McInnes. Hell.

  ‘If I’m needed, they’ll contact me,’ Rachel told him shortly. ‘Elly knows where I am, and the radio network is still operational. But there’s nothing back in town but heat exhaustion and dehydration, and Elly and Don and David can cope with that.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Don’t fight me on this,’ she told him. ‘We’re wasting time. Just get there.’

  And then the farmhouse was in view. Or what was left of the farmhouse.

  Nothing.

  The tiny farm cottage looked almost as if it had been vaporised-sucked into thin air with only a smouldering slab remaining where the house had once stood. Even the chimney had collapsed in on itself and was now a low mound of crumbling, smoking brick.

  Nothing could have survived this.

  Hugo…

  Rachel caught her breath. There was a car parked beside the wreck. Or what was left of a car.

  A big old family sedan.

  Hugo’s car.

  Rachel was out of the truck before it stopped. Staring.

  Her heart was somewhere else. Gone. A lifeless thing with no meaning. There were tears streaming down her face and she didn’t check them. Sh
e couldn’t.

  Hugo.

  And then a shout. From Gary, the giant of a young firefighter who was so worried about Sue-Ellen.

  ‘Over here. He’s over here. In the dam.’

  Gary, who obviously knew the lie of the land, had spared not even a glance for the burnt-out shell of the house where it was obvious nothing could have survived, but he’d moved swiftly toward a bank over to the left. Now he stood on the rise and yelled back to them.

  ‘They’re over here. They’re in the dam. Doc with about thirty bloody goats and a dog and Sue-Ellen. They’re alive.’

  Hugo was alive, but Sue-Ellen barely qualified. He’d heard them come but he could do nothing. The girl in his arms needed all his attention. Her eyes were wide but what she was seeing was invisible to him. She was drifting in and out of consciousness. Her blood pressure was way down and her pulse was thready and weak.

  He needed equipment. He needed help.

  The grass at the verge of the dam was still smouldering. He couldn’t move.

  So he lay, supporting Sue-Ellen, partly submerged in the water. Beside them, her half-grown collie lay and whined and whined, and around them Sue-Ellen’s beloved angora goats shifted in anxiety.

  The girl in his arms stirred and seemed to focus. ‘I…can’t…’ she whispered.

  ‘You don’t need to do anything, Sue-Ellen,’ he told her, trying hard to keep his voice reassuring and steady. ‘You’ve done it all. Your goats are fine. You’ve saved your pup. You’re burned but not too badly. You’ll be OK. People are coming. We’ll both be looked after. Your goats. Your dogs. All of us.’

  She was no longer listening. She’d dropped again into unconsciousness.

  He closed his eyes and when he opened them Rachel was slithering down the bank toward him.

  His Rachel.

  ‘I haven’t been able to help. I haven’t had anything to work with,’ Hugo told her. The fire crew had laid a thermal blanket over the mud at the side of the dam. Gary-appalled beyond belief-had lifted Sue-Ellen’s limp body from Hugo’s grasp and laid her tenderly on the bank. Someone else had run for Rachel’s equipment. Now they were working fiercely in tandem.

  Severe burns. Shock. Smoke inhalation. Why hadn’t they been able to get here earlier? Rachel thought fiercely as she checked blood pressure. Eighty over fifty. Hell.

  ‘Gary, look after Hugo,’ she ordered. As one of the few professional firefighters, Gary would know basic first aid, but Hugo was having none of it. He brushed Gary aside and reached for the IV equipment.

  ‘I’m fine. I haven’t been able to help but I can now.’

  ‘Are your hands burned?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your voice is rasping.’

  ‘I’m not burned. It’s just from smoke inhalation.’

  ‘Well, then…’

  ‘Leave it.’

  She cast a doubtful glance at him but his look was grim and determined. She had the sense to let it be, moving to Sue-Ellen’s mouth, tilting her chin so her jaw dropped open.

  ‘I checked,’ Hugo said briefly. ‘There’s no obvious burns to her mouth. The pharynx isn’t swollen.’

  ‘Lucky.’ Rachel placed a stethoscope on Sue-Ellen’s chest while Hugo accepted the bag of saline from Gary and swabbed the girl’s bare arm. IV access would have to be ante-cubital-through the elbow-because of deep burns on her hands. She was still deeply unconscious.

  ‘Oh, God, she’s dying,’ the young firefighter whispered, and Rachel found time to glance up at him.

  ‘You sound like you love her,’ she said gently, and the young giant nodded. They were working together to rip away clothing and place the bags of saline.

  ‘We used to go out with each other. When she was diagnosed with schizophrenia she called it off. Said it was unfair to me. I came around last night to see if she needed help and she told me to clear off. But she didn’t want me to. I could tell. And then today I was caught out with the fire truck and couldn’t check. Hell. I didn’t know… I didn’t know…’

  He hadn’t known how much he loved her, Rachel thought, with the sudden insight of someone who’d been down just that road.

  ‘She’ll be right,’ she said gently. ‘Gary, can you find us more blankets from the truck? I know it’s crazy but the water will have chilled her and we need her warm. You’ll find the sheets I brought-they look like a cross between plastic and tin foil. And I have sheets of clingwrap. I want them, too.’

  The firefighter nodded, grateful to do anything. Anything! He disappeared at a run.

  ‘We need to contact air ambulance services,’ Hugo said in a voice that was growing more ragged by the minute.

  ‘I already have.’ It was the fire chief, appearing over the dam bank with his radio receiver still in his hand. ‘One of the state’s medical evacuation helicopters is available. Apparently our firestorm has upgraded us. Cowral’s become a priority and the chopper will be here in twenty minutes.’

  ‘If we can keep her alive,’ Hugo muttered, and Rachel shook her head.

  ‘There’s no doubt.’ She had an oxygen mask on the girl’s face and already Sue-Ellen’s complexion was deepening under the grime to something that looked more healthy. As if on cue, the girl stirred and moaned.

  ‘Morphine,’ Rachel murmured, reaching behind her for her bag, but it was Hugo who administered it. He was shocked and battered but he was working on autopilot.

  ‘Let me go. Let me go…’ It was a thready whisper but she was starting to fight them.

  ‘Haloperidol?’ Rachel queried, and Hugo nodded. If Sue-Ellen was schizophrenic then the whole combination of events might well be enough to push her over the edge. Sedation was imperative.

  The fluids were flowing freely now. Rachel took another blood-pressure reading and breathed a bit more easily.

  ‘A hundred and ten, seventy. See, Hugo? We’ll do it.’

  ‘You’ll do it,’ he muttered. ‘I couldn’t do it without you. Hell, Rachel, I had nothing.’

  ‘Because your car went up in flames,’ she said brusquely. ‘It could be said you had an excuse. I don’t think the medical board is going to strike you off for losing your doctor’s bag. And you did save the patient.’

  Gary arrived back, sliding down the bank with a bunch of blankets. He looked worried sick.

  ‘Let’s find the extent of these burns,’ Hugo said. He was starting to sound in control a bit-just a little. He lifted Sue-Ellen’s palms and grimaced. Rule of palm… Take the area of a size of a palm print and measure how many palm prints were burned on the girl’s body. Twenty? Thirty? They were looking at something like thirty per cent burns.

  ‘We need that fluid coming in fast.’

  ‘We have it,’ Rachel replied.

  ‘Have we got dressing packs?’

  ‘We have everything we need.’ She’d carried her bag with her, and she flipped it open. As Hugo started gently separating burned fingers-imperative in these first few minutes-she started sorting, handing Hugo sachets of specially formulated gel to soak the burns, then gauze to place over them before they wrapped the whole area in clingwrap. It was imperative to get the area sterile and air-free.

  At what cost came the time spent in the dam? What infections were in the ash-and mud-laden water? But at least it meant she had a chance.

  And a chance was what she most needed. As Gary stooped over Sue-Ellen and her eyes fluttered open and found Gary…as Gary lifted her hand to his face and held…just held, Rachel thought Sue-Ellen had everything she needed right here. Right now.

  She was injured almost to death.

  But she had her love and one look at Gary told her that it would take more than schizophrenia or bushfires to part them again.

  And all of a sudden Rachel was blinking back tears. Of…envy?

  ‘She was in the house.’

  Hugo was sitting in the mud on the dam bank, his head in his hands. Behind them the whirr of the helicopter was fading into the distance.

  They’d lifted Sue-E
llen from the dam bank, warmed her shocked body, covered her burns with antiseptic gel and the thin plastic burn wrap and continued her on intravenous fluids. They’d given her as much morphine as they could. Then they’d loaded her into the medical evacuation helicopter where a team of skilled medicos were waiting to take her to Sydney.

  Gary had gone, too. It hadn’t been discussed.

  She had every chance of survival, Rachel thought as she watched the chopper disappear into the distance. Although the burns to her legs and hands were too extensive to be treated in a small country hospital, they shouldn’t be extensive enough to be life-threatening. Not with the prompt treatment she’d had and the fact that in an hour she’d be in the best burns unit in the state.

  And the schizophrenia? With love and devotion she had a good chance of a stable life. Gary wasn’t about to be pushed aside again, for however noble a motive, Rachel thought.

  And here… Already the goats were emerging from the water, starting to forage over burned ground. Amazingly, they even looked as if they were finding things to eat.

  The goats might be back to business as usual but Hugo wasn’t. He was sitting on the dam bank, looking sick. Rachel sat down beside him, hauled Pudge, Sue-Ellen’s pup, up onto her knee and held the shaking dog. With her free hand she took Hugo’s and held that, too. Tight.

  ‘Hugo…’

  He looked dreadful. While they’d worked over Sue-Ellen he’d been efficient, doctor in medical mode, but as the chopper left the fight seem to have drained out of him.

  ‘Hugo,’ she whispered again, and he stirred, as if trying to rouse himself from a dreadful dream.

  ‘The house had started to burn before I reached her,’ he said at last, wearily, as if hardly conscious that Rachel was beside him. ‘She must have gone back in. I yelled out and I could hear her inside the house, screaming for Pudge. Screaming. But Pudge was outside. The pup came to greet me as I pulled up, desperate. As if he knew his mistress was inside.’

  ‘So you went in.’

  ‘Of course.’ He winced and Rachel looked down at the hand she was holding. There were blisters there. Burns. He’d been wearing protective clothing and that was intact, but there were spot burns on his hands and on his face.