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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 06/30/2022
Hope in the Flames
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The natives cowered as the raging flames towered over them, creeping slowly forward, until high pitched, animalistic screams of pain tore through the air, and then… Silence. Silence over the roaring inferno and burning bushes and lumps of fur and melted meat. Silence over the hellish squeals of other unfortunate mothers, and devastated howls of poor, curious joeys as sudden realisation hits. And now, the all-consuming deafening roar and the fainter crackle as the inferno consumes anything that was left standing.
As Kangaroo Island burned mercilessly, the Wildlife Sanctuary is already gone. But still the flames find something to clasp their heated mittens onto. A black, soot covered Santa hat lies lifelessly blazing next to a similarly covered stocking, a liquid candy cane hanging limply out like a joey in a pouch. School is over as kids throw down their cricket bats to stomp down feasting flames.
Cars squeal down the road as sirens blare, a car flips, its metal screeching against the flaring blaze. Tears run down the trapped family’s faces as their bodies were consumed from behind, the gore pressing against the stained glass.
A girl’s voice…Screaming…
“Mummy, please, please, what’s going on” the young female begged as the mum clumsily strapped her into her car seat, desperately trying to calm down both.
As Mum screamed down the road like a rocket, something limped into view, a silhouette against the smoke. Mum stamped on the brakes and they slowed to an abrupt halt.
“What is it mummy?” the girl asked, curiosity fighting off the thick river of tears.
Mum ignored, pouncing out of the car, slamming the door shut, slipping her greasy, sweaty fingers around the joey and quickly chucking it into the back of the car and re applying pressure to the accelerator, and returning full attention to the road.
The young one stared curiously at the koala, cocking her head slightly. The little joey whimpered slightly, rolling onto its bare burnt backside, revealing the melted rubbery paws, and singed fur.
“It’s okey dokey bud, issa goina be alright.” The toddler spoke in her colourful newfound language.
Sparks flew and marks glowed as Mum threw out the brakes and spun herself neatly into the sticky, hot carcass of what used to be the Wildlife Reserve.
Residents stood shivering (not from the cold) around what Mum knew to be the Wildlife Park head centre.
The smoke was suffocating and blankets were spread over those for whom there was no hope. As the natives large and small stood staring wide-eyed at their surroundings, no one could do anything to save the charred, lifeless skull of Kangaroo Island.
Their landscape could not have been worse. Inky black pools of blood drenched the twitching bodies that lay strewn across the ground. The supplies were few and rationed, so only the helpable few were attended to with bandages and other medical aids. Men stood shirtless, their tops wrapped around the injured inhabitants, largest to smallest.
Families used sandbags soaked in water to bludgeon the unsatisfactory flickering spot fires that jumped up out of the gloom.
Suddenly, a welcoming sound satisfied the peoples ears. A red and blue light lit up the unusually dark morning.
Relief flashed across relatives faces, if only for a second, as the impossible murk seemed a little clearer.
But not clear enough.
Mum pulled her shirt up to her mouth and coughed painfully. She rushed through the forest, spotting some awfully deformed lumps bulging from the ground. Mum ran to a black, soot covered shrub and pushed aside a piece of bush. She threw up, sick splattering over a small baby koala with open wounds. It stared up at her, blinking in pain. She stumbled over to it and called out to the volunteers. “Over here!” she croaked, and another viscous display of coughs burst its way out of her aching throat. They coaxed the screeching koala back to the reserve, and did their best to attend to its wounds. Sadly, this one wouldn’t make it. Supplies were already running low. And the wounds. Much much too severe. This little joey was only one of 158 that very day.
Searching. Waiting. Watching. Finding. Returning. Attending. Repeating.
Some would help.
Some would find.
Some would care.
Some wouldn’t.
Some would care, but only for themselves.
The volunteers were aching and tired. There were no longer any supplies. Hope was lost.
Some were lost.
It was a fight to survive.
…
Soot covered bushes. A sickening creak.
“it’s coming from the eucalyptus tree.”
The tree tilts to an angle.
It’s time to run.
Mum and the team scatter, searching for safer ground, unknowingly another baby caught under her jacket, clinging on for dear life.
‘crack’
Silence.
Mum winced as she pushed the snapped branch from her leg. She tried to stand. Couldn’t.
‘definitely broken’, she thought to herself, looking around.
“the rest of the team didn’t make it,” the nurse told a grieving Mum, passing the infinitesimal joey to her, “but this guy did and he’s thriving.”
Mum stroked the young kangaroo, but her thoughts were not on it.
“they were good people.” She thought aloud, and the joey squeaked, somewhat in agreement.
Innocent lives.
Innocent.
Lives.
Lost.
‘for the love of god’ she thought, ‘this is getting out of hand!’
The small joey was handed into the care of the other volunteers, and Mum hugged her little girl tightly to her chest.
Luck.
It was all luck.
If it hadn’t been for pure and utter luck, this child she had given birth to and loved so dearly could have been torn from her mother.
Her.
As the heat of the invisible fires started to ease, Kangaroo Island fell into the arms of the willing sacrifices made for...
She stopped, and stared at her daughters’ cute little face, and a smile broke upon her ragged own.
Hope, she knew, would keep them together. Hope, that someday, the unfortunate koalas and kangaroos would once again be able to live in their sweet paradise of fresh eucalyptus and lush green grass and vibrant meadows.
And then, she looked upon the young one, and she was filled with compassion and love, a love that would last a lifetime. And that love was topped off with hope. And that hope was all she needed.
She could live and thrive and once again believe in the sheer adventure that was to survive.
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