Five kilometres.

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Plumes of thick smoke rise from the earth like a mountain. The world is on fire, and we have descended into hell.

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Fireys have come knocking with the dreaded warning that evacuation is non-negotiable. The wind has changed direction, the fire is five kilometres away, and we lie in its path.

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I shake as I scramble to fill a suitcase with essentials; a change of clothes, passports, birth certificates, and our insurance details. My shorts are drenched from hosing down the house, and they are rubbing the inside of my thighs.

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‘What else? What else do we need to take with us?’

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Four Kilometres.

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I find my daughter, Jess, in her room. ‘Ready?’

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She’d chosen the pale green paint on the walls after explaining that now she was ten years old it was time for a more grown-up coloured bedroom.

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Jess stuffs her backpack with teddies and squashes in the floppy-eared bunny she’s slept with ever since she was two years old. ‘Ready, Mom. Where’s Milo?’

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‘Milo! Here boy, here. He must be in the yard. Let’s go!’

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I take one last look around our house as we hurry out. The pencilled markings dated with Jess’s age and height, the Christmas tree loaded with hand-made decorations Jess made over the years, the beaten kitchen table my mom bought for me as a housewarming present.

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‘Thank you, house. You were the best!’ I say.

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Jess looks up at me, and her blue eyes lock on mine. She nods then shouts, ‘We love you, house!’

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My throat aches, but there is no time for tears now. I lock the front door behind me and throw our few belongings in the car.

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Three kilometres.

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‘Milo! Milo!’ Jess shouts.

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‘Where could he be?’ Our chocolate Labrador is fourteen years old and hard of hearing. It was serendipity that he came to live with us. A chance encounter at a checkout in Coles meant he became part of our family.

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We run behind the house and my eyes sting. The sky is a blackened orange and the wind is hot. The taste of smoke is thick on my tongue. ‘Where is he?’

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‘My secret hiding place!’

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‘What secret hiding place?’

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Jess grabs my hand and pulls me towards the shed by the back fence. ‘I’ll show you. Come on!’

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Two kilometres.

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On the back-seat, Milo pants heavily. In the rear-view mirror, a silhouette of trees set against a towering inferno shows me how small and powerless we are against the raging fires. I pull off the drive and place my clammy hand on Jess’s knee—I have everything I need.

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One kilometre.

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I focus on the road ahead and pray under my breath for safe refuge.

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Fire trucks speed past us.

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Not knowing what lies ahead of them, these heroes drive straight to the front line.

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Jess closes her eyes and starts to pray. ‘Keep them safe,’ she whispers. ‘Keep them safe.’

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The End

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© Michelle Upton

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