‘They’d have left a note,’ I snapped. ‘They wouldn’t let the dogs die.’

There was a moment’s silence. No one knew what to say.

‘There’s just no explanation that fits all this,’ Robyn said.

‘It’s like UFO stuff,’ Kevin said. ‘Like aliens have taken them away.’ Then, seeing the expression on my face, he quickly added, ‘I’m not trying to make a joke of it Ellie. I know something bad’s happened. I just can’t figure what it could possibly be.’

Lee whispered something to Robyn. I didn’t bother to ask them what it was. When I saw the naked fear on Robyn’s face, I didn’t want to ask.

I made a big mental effort to get control of myself.

‘Let’s get back to the Landrover,’ I said. ‘Bring the dog. We’ll go down to Homer’s.’

‘Wait a sec,’ Lee said. ‘Have you got a transistor radio? A battery one?’

‘Um, yes, I don’t know where,’ I said, looking at him strangely. I still didn’t know what he had in mind but I didn’t like the look on his face, any more than I’d liked the look on Robyn’s. ‘Why?’

But I didn’t want him to answer.

‘I’ve got my Walkman in the Landrover,’ Robyn said.

He turned to her. ‘Have you heard any news bulletins since we’ve been away?’

‘No. I tried a few times to pick up radio stations, but I couldn’t get any. I guess the cliffs around Hell cut them off.’

‘Can you find your radio?’ Lee said to me.

‘I guess.’ I ran to my bedroom. I didn’t want to be wasting time like this; I desperately wanted to get to Homer’s place and run to kind Mrs Yannos and have her hug me and hold me and explain everything away, so that it became just a simple little mistake. But there was something terrible in Lee’s mind and I couldn’t ignore it.

I came back with the radio, switching it on as I rushed along the corridor, spinning the tuner to find a station. By the time I got to the kitchen I’d already scanned the whole range once and got nothing but static. Must have gone too fast, I thought, like I always do. I never learn. I started the second search as the others watched anxiously, uncomprehending. This time I was slow and careful, but the result was the same: nothing.

Now we were all really frightened. We looked at Lee, as though we expected him magically to have the answer. He just shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Let’s get to Homer’s.’

As with the radio, so with the Landrover. I revved it so hard and dropped the clutch so roughly that Kevin, who was still sitting down, hit his head and hurt it, nearly dropping Millie, whom he was still nursing. The Landie kangaroo-hopped a few metres and stalled. I could hear Grandma’s voice saying ‘More haste, less speed’. I took a deep breath and tried again, more calmly. This time was better. We went out the gate and down the road, with me saying to Homer, ‘I forgot to check the chooks’.

‘OK Ellie,’ he said, ‘it’ll be cool. We’ll work it out.’ But he didn’t look at me, just sat forward on the seat, peering anxiously through the windscreen.

Homer’s place is about a k and a half from ours.

The one thing we wanted to see, the only thing, as we approached, was movement.

There was none. As we bumped over the cattle grid I was pressing the horn, making it roar, until Lee called out urgently from the back, ‘Don’t do that Ellie’. Again I was scared to ask why, but I stopped pressing the horn. We skidded hard to a halt near the front door and Homer hit the ground running. He flung the door open and ran in, calling ‘Mum! Dad!’

But before I’d even left the driver’s seat the hollowness of his voice gave me my answer.

I walked towards the door. As I did so I heard the Landrover start up behind me. I turned and looked. Lee was at the wheel. I watched. He was a terrible driver, but with much over-revving he got the vehicle into the shadows under the big old peppercorn tree, behind the tank stand. Memories of a light-hearted conversation in Hell suddenly came back to me. And suddenly I knew, and I hated and feared the memory. Lee climbed out of the car and came walking towards me, heading for the front door. I screamed at him, ‘Lee! You’re wrong! Stop doing these things! Stop thinking these things! You’re wrong!’

Robyn came up behind me and grabbed my arm.

‘He probably is,’ she said. ‘But the radio ...’ She paused. ‘Hold yourself together Ellie. Just till we know.’

We walked into the house together. As we went through the front door into the bleak dead silence she added, ‘Pray hard Ellie. Pray really hard. I am.’

I could hear a bellowing noise from out the back of the house, so I walked straight through to the yard, and found Homer, grim-faced, trying to milk their cow. Milk was leaking from her teats, and she was shifting uncomfortably and bellowing whenever he tried to touch her.

‘Can you milk, Ellie?’ he asked quietly.

‘No, sorry Homer. I never learned. I’ll ask the others.’

As I went back in he called out, ‘The budgie in the sunroom Ellie’.

‘OK,’ I called, and ran. But Corrie had already reached the budgie who was alive, but with just a little bit of mouldy water in its cage. We brought him fresh water, which he drank like Dad with his first beer after shearing.

‘You’ve got a milker at home, haven’t you?’ I asked Corrie. ‘Can you take over from Homer, out the back?’

‘Sure,’ she said, and went. We’d all started acting with unnatural calmness. I knew how frightened Corrie and the others must now be for their own families, but there was nothing we could do for them quite yet. I took the budgie into the kitchen, where Lee was putting down the phone. I raised my eyebrows at Lee; he shook his head. Homer came in a moment later.

‘There’s an RF radio in the office,’ he said, without looking at anyone.

‘What’s an RF radio?’ Fi asked. I hadn’t noticed her, standing in the door of the pantry.

‘Rural Firefighting,’ Homer said briefly.

‘Would it be safe?’ Robyn asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Homer said. ‘Who knows anything?’

With desperate urgency, passionate to convince them, I said, ‘This is ridiculous. I know what you’re thinking, and it is completely absolutely impossible. Absolutely not possible. These things just don’t happen, not here, not in this country.’ Then, with sudden hope, I remembered something. ‘Those fires! They’ll be out fighting those fires. There must have been some bad ones, so bad they couldn’t get back.’

Homer said, ‘Ellie, they weren’t that kind of fire. You know that. You know what a bad fire looks like.’

Lee said, ‘I don’t know much about these things, but shouldn’t your RF radio be alive with voices, while those fires are burning?’

‘Yes!’ said Homer, turning in a hurry.

‘But there’s no power,’ Fi said.

‘They have back-up batteries,’ I said. We rushed after Homer and crowded into the little office. Homer was turning the volume knob on the radio up to full, but there was no need. Endless monotonous static filled the room. ‘Did you check the frequency?’ I asked quietly. Homer nodded, his face full of misery. I wanted to hug him, looked for Fi to see if she might be going to, then went ahead when I realised she’d left the room again.

After a minute Homer said, ‘Do you think we should send out a call on the radio?’

‘What do you think Ellie?’ Lee asked me.

I knew I had to admit all the possibilities now. I remembered how tense things had been before we left, all those politicians shouting and carrying on. Trying to think calmly I said, ‘The only reason for calling up would be if we can get help for our families. If they’re in trouble, or danger. But if they are, everyone must be in the same boat. And the authorities must know about it. So we wouldn’t be helping our families by transmitting the call ...’

‘The only other reason for calling is because we’re so desperate to find out. But OK, I admit we may create danger for ourselves ...’ I tried to keep my voice steady, ‘... if there’s something bad happened ... if there’s people out there ...’