Night fell, and at the firebreak Robbie pulled the squad out.
Returning from work, they saw floodlighting illuminate blackened stalks of larch at the devastated plantation where the bulldozer was at last able to begin clearing the track, some Kingussie men working with chainsaws and beaters around the huge vehicle as they advanced between smoking trees. Grotesque shadows were thrown by the harsh floodlights. It was dangerous work. Ambulances remained parked beside the road and one white coated group were donning protective clothing to begin their task of search and recovery. In the background patches of fire glowed.
Robbie drove slowly past policemen standing next traffic cones placed across the access road. Beyond the cones, accident-scene tape fluttered on a periphery of artificial illumination. Glints of red light momentarily touched faces in the landrover. In the night, flames soared majestically five hundred metres from vehicles huddled behind cones and tape. The forest fire was moving inexorably on.
Alex broke a silence as light played into the rear of the landrover. “What the hell could have happened? They were experienced men.”
“We’ll soon know. Some managed to get out,” Noel’s voice was soft.
“Not many,” Guy said, glints of distant fire catching his solid features, “half a dozen, according to Mackinnon.”
Silence fell once again. The landrover accelerated away from the patch of floodlighting and they remembered the inferno at Polloch, the aggressive heat, the burned figure being stretchered into an ambulance.
“I doesn’t bear thinking about,” Roland said in the darkness. “Trapped in there, what a terrible way to die.”
Silas sat rigidly, his white face hidden. His stomach clenched and a bitter rush flooded his mouth. He swallowed. His throat burned. Sweat formed and began to drip from his hairline. No-one paid him any attention.
Sitting quietly in the front passenger seat, young Iain glanced sideways at the ganger. Robbie’s features were expressionless as he drove, peering to the asphalted strip ahead. From the shadows behind him he heard Noel’s voice saying, “that’s what is hard to understand. For experienced people to be caught…” and lost the rest in a change down to second gear.
It was difficult to accept that the deaths of so many was the outcome of some blunder. All knew that the Kingussie men had volunteered to bring experience of previous fire-fights to Lochaber, spared wildfire until now. The roadway levelled and the engine noise dropped.
“We’ll be in it ourselves tomorrow,” George grunted.
“That’s right,” Robbie overheard from the driver’s seat, “we’ll have a firebreak in front of us. Rattray and Euan Mackinnon picked the spot. After the breakthrough we can attack from the flank. Early tomorrow, before we go up, helicopters will drop retardant. All this will be done around dawn. Fire should reach the road around eight in the morning. We’ll need to be there earlier, so get a good night’s sleep.”
Robbie drove past outlying house of the village and there was no further conversation. Strontian itself seemed to be paralysed. Blinds were drawn and streetlights shone on deserted streets. No cars were to be seen, unless glimpsed in a driveway. No pedestrians walked the pavements. A taste of burning tainted the night air. On greensward outside a convenience store, several white marquees stood, shadows indistinct on fabric walls. Within these pagodas men moved silently around their cots. Only the Kingussie contingent was absent. They would spend the night labouring to access the farm buildings and bring out the bodies of their friends. This was a personal matter, and others did not volunteer to join them.
The landrover braked to a smooth stop and the squad alighted, excepting Iain whom Robbie would drive home. The Argyll Hotel van sat awaiting their return, its driver employing considerable ingenuity in keeping their dinner warm. He watched the squad straggle into the hall, then followed, carrying a soup tureen.
At the Community Centre, they took their turn to shower and an evening meal was eaten in silence. An unfurnished bleakness in the hall reflected their mood. They stretched on sleeping bags spread on cheap mattresses. Sounds were accentuated by uncompromising surfaces, but any lowering of voices felt foolishly furtive. There was no desire to make an intrusion into the lives that had been lost by discussing the agony of death by fire, so each kept his own counsel.
When the lighting automatically dimmed then switched off, they stared into darkness, trusting there would be no mistake made in days to come, each imagination providing its own images. But they were tired by their work at the firebreak and sleep came quickly to all. Noel’s slumber was dreamless. Apprehension and guilt swamped by exhaustion, Silas slept soundly with the others.