THE CHASM 

By Tessa Harvey

    Gavin's great-grandfather had been in charge of a German camp for undesirables. These people needed to be kept in check. He was very proud of his heritage.

    Gavin did not much like his French sounding name. Perhaps he could convince Dylan to change it back to Sturm, his mother's name. He must leave a pure legacy. Only his nephew remained.

    At that moment, Dylan was driving a firetruck down a twisting forested trail. What had initially been a training exercise had suddenly become a cataclysm of fire now causing immense devastation. 

    His young partner was very nervous, had asked to be dropped off at his family's place to help defend the property. But the training was for two firefighters. The fire around them was not too severe at present, but then the wind roared and a wall of flame soared . They had to go back somehow.

    Dylan had only one option. Retreat. Carefully, he reversed the fire truck trying to avoid knocking blazing fires that might fall across their path. Derek, his partner, was praying quietly. Fine, Dylan thought. I should pray, but I can't. But he listened to the soft, peaceful voice which seemed to soar above the fire's roar.

    They managed to turn their vehicle and then were ahead of the fire, but not by much. The radio crackled and they were told to return to defend the local stone-built school. People were sheltering there....

    They stopped outside. Hot ash was falling. Smoke swirled. A man was helping his wife out of a ute.

    He saw Dylan and stared, amazed. Angrily, he strode up to the young man, still peering at his features. "Your son did this!" he yelled, "or your brother. You caused this awful fire."