She was woken by her own coughing. Smoke in the air, tickling her throat. She opened her eyes. Lying on her side, under her blanket, she was facing out of the little camp, and looking at the trunk of a long-dead tree, wrapped in an equally dead strangler fig.
But there was movement inside the fig, in its shadows, dimly visible in the dawn light. A small face poked out of the lattice of wood, a long snout, big eyes. It seemed to study her, as if she might be a threat, or an opportunity. Then the creature scuttled out into the open. It wasn’t much bigger than a mouse, with smooth brown fur, but with big, powerful back legs, like a miniature kangaroo. It sniffed, looked around – froze – and then leapt into the air, clopping its jaws closed around some insect, and landed and scuttled back into the shadows.
Lobsang touched her shoulder. ‘One last dawn. One last chance for the furballs to hunt.’
Still lying under her blanket she said, ‘All coming to an end today, then.’
‘I’m afraid so—’
The ground lurched, and Sally, lying there, felt herself being lifted up. As if she was a child in a stepwise footprint of Wyoming, and her father had scooped her up in his arms. The rise went on for seconds, pinning her to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, it stopped, she gasped, and the land fell, surely through several feet. She landed hard on her back.
‘Up you get.’ Lobsang stood over her, hand outstretched.
Feeling very elderly, Sally accepted the help. But then she pushed her feet into her boots, grabbed her pack, her multi-pocketed jacket and her hat, and was ready for action once more.
Stan was already on his feet, grinning. ‘The end credits.’
‘I think so,’ Lobsang said.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking what’s for breakfast?’
Sally smiled. ‘It’s your show, Stan. Where do you want to be?’
He pointed upwards. ‘Top of Manning Hill again. We may as well get the best view we can.’
‘Good,’ said Lobsang. ‘I’ll lead the way, I know the trail. But watch out for fissures. And if there’s another tremor like that big one, throw yourself flat …’
The view from the top of the hill was obscured by drifting smoke. Overhead, clouds streamed like a speeded-up movie effect. From up here Sally could see that the remaining buildings of New Springfield were shattered now, heaps of splintered timber, and along the line of Soulsby Creek a deep fissure had opened, revealing the glow of lava. The spilled water hissed and boiled.
Lobsang said, ‘Look at that. Our place was destroyed early, by the winds at the top of this hill. Now the rest of the town has gone.’
‘Shaken to pieces,’ Sally said. ‘I’m sorry, Lobsang – George.’
He shrugged.
‘Fire,’ said Stan. He pointed. ‘There, there, there …’
Whole swathes of the continent-spanning forest must be alight now. Sally saw how the fire was spreading, the trunks of mature trees going up with whooshes, like splinters of kindling. In one place she thought she saw movement, heavy animals on the move. Those big birds the colonists had spoken of, presumably. They’d survived this much, then.
She pointed this out to Lobsang. ‘But there’s nowhere for them to flee.’
‘No. The fire’s spreading. Joining up. When it surrounds this hilltop we’ll be trapped—’
‘I suspect that will be academic, Lobsang.’
There was a tremendous groan from deep within the hillside, as if the rock itself was stressed beyond endurance. Again the ground lurched, dropping this time, and Sally stumbled, almost fell. Even when the drop was over the ground continued to shudder.
‘Down,’ Stan shouted. ‘Let’s sit down. That way at least we can’t be thrown over.’
They hurried to comply, sitting in their tight witches’ circle, on the shaking ground, holding hands firmly. Sally watched the clouds washing past the sun. She was convinced she could see the sun itself shift across the sky, visibly, so fast was the world’s rotation now.
‘One hour,’ Lobsang called.
‘What?’
‘When the day is reduced to a single hour. That’s when the rocks at the equator will be moving so fast they’ll effectively be in orbit, and the air will start leaking away – the final break-up will begin.’
‘But we won’t get to see that,’ Sally said. She squeezed Stan’s hand. ‘Not long now.’
‘Good,’ he said fiercely.
‘You have no regrets?’
‘I’m dying young,’ he said, his face screwed up against the dustladen wind. ‘I didn’t get the chance to say all I needed to say. I hope that my words will do no harm, in the future. I needed more time.’ He shook his head. ‘But I also needed to be here …’