The group pressed on together towards the centre of town. Surely the fire wouldn’t follow them there. Surely concrete and brick buildings would give them more shelter than the woods and grass on the outskirts.
As they hurried on, burned-out restaurants and bars emerged from the smoke — then the casino, the building newer than the others and perhaps built from more fire-retardant materials. Certainly the windows still looked intact.
They approached the building and Victoria reached for the door handle. It was hot. She let go and herded the others away. Instinct told her it was burning inside.
Suddenly a green neon sign appeared through the smoke, flashing fitfully: SWIMMING POOL.
The jockey went ahead and pushed open the double doors. Inside, the turnstiles were open and the shimmering blue waters of the pool were visible at the end of a short corridor.
Water. That had to be safe. Another winning toss, it seemed.
They all ran in and headed for the corridor that led to the water.
All at once the vet began to cough. ‘Stop!’ she called. ‘I can smell something.’
‘It’s just the chlorine from the pool,’ said the jockey.
Victoria also started coughing and her eyes were watering. She never liked the smell of swimming pools but this seemed much worse than that.
Then the jockey was choking, and the decorator too. He put his hand on a door handle to steady himself and pulled it back sharply. ‘It’s hot—’ His words ended in another spasm of coughing.
It was Troy who recognized the smell. He pushed the decorator away from the door, back towards the turnstiles, and put his hand over his mouth to stop the fumes long enough to speak. ‘Get out! That’s the chemical store. I used to work at a spa. You have to keep the chemicals cool. If they get hot, they explode.’
The group spluttered their way back to the turnstiles and out into the street.
Another coin toss won.
Bel’s lungs were raw and her eyes were watering. At least she had managed to get some Brasher walking boots from the outdoor shop on the green. She didn’t like the idea of looting so she’d scribbled a note with her name and address and details of what she owed them.
She walked along, with no idea where she was going. She was just looking for somewhere to rest. But you couldn’t shelter in burned-out shops. She’d been in fire-damaged streets after tsunamis and floods and she knew the dangers. Charred roof beams could give way. Cracked pipes leaked gas and toxic fumes.
Bel scanned the deserted side streets. Why were there no other people around? Had they all found places to hide? Had there been an evacuation which she’d somehow missed?
She had her mobile in her hand and she repeatedly speed-dialled Ben’s number as she walked.
‘Lines are busy …’ squawked the tiny voice in her hand.
Well, of course they were. What did she expect? Of course there was no way she was going to get through.
As she put the phone away, she caught sight of her face in a shop window. It wore an expression she had seen thousands of times before. Not when she looked in her own bathroom mirror, but when she worked in disaster zones, when mothers and fathers were worrying about their loved ones. I’m alive, that expression said, but what about the others in my family?
Was Ben at the hotel? Had he tried to get into town? What if he had been up in the air? A microlight would be thrown about like a paper aeroplane in the thermals from a major fire. Even so, it was probably safer in the air than on the ground. She’d have to trust to Major Kurtis’s daughter to bring him back in one piece.
Across the green, a neon sign appeared through the smoke. It flashed on and then off, as though the power supply was faulty. The first time Bel caught the flicker of light out of the corner of her eye, she thought her mind was playing tricks. But then the sign flashed again: SWIMMING POOL.
Relief flooded through her. An open-air pool would be the safest place to be right now.
She ran across the road and up the steps and pushed through the doors of the building.
Inside it was dark. A strong reek of chemicals wiped out the smell of smoke. It was hot in here, almost as hot as it was outside. Down a short corridor, a big rectangle of blue water shimmered in the gloom.
Bel wasn’t looking for a covered pool. The risk there was that the roof might give way. But maybe there was an open-air pool at the back of the building. She headed on through.
She didn’t take any notice of the store cupboard door she passed on her left — which meant she didn’t notice the paint on it peeling in the intense heat on the other side. A steady stream of white smoke crept out under the door, covering the floor like a carpet.
Bel coughed as she became aware of a strong chemical reek. The sound echoed off the walls. She marvelled at how silent the building was. Normally at this time of day the building would ring with high-spirited screams and splashes. Goggles, shoes and bags littered the edge of the pool where swimmers had fled. She never got used to disaster zones — the deserted places, scattered with dropped possessions.
The corridor smelled strong — it was probably toxic, she thought. Fearing a chemical leak, she started to run, but her feet slipped on the wet floor and she fell sprawling.
The impact knocked all the wind out of her. When she sucked in a breath, the white smoke drifting around at ground level stung her throat like acid. She felt as if she’d been sprayed in the face with tear gas.
Behind her there was a deafening bang. The door flew off its hinges and smacked into the tiled wall opposite, scattering broken chips of ceramic. Bel’s vision cleared in time to see a ball of fire rolling towards her.
She flattened herself on the floor and started scuttling away all fours. The wet tiled surface was easy to move on and she slithered as fast as a fish. At the water’s edge she just carried right on in and powered down the pool in a strong crawl.
She was a good swimmer but her new boots pulled her down like lead weights. When her hand touched the wall at the other end she gripped it gratefully and pulled herself up.
The corridor she had come down was now a mass of flames. Fire and thick black smoke boiled out of the store cupboard. She blinked back stinging tears and saw that the insulation in the ceiling tiles was starting to smoulder, like those in the conference centre.
The swimming pool was not a safe place to be. She had to get out.
She dragged herself out of the water, onto the tiled surround. Pain shot through her shoulder: she must have bruised it badly when she fell over. She got unsteadily to her feet and looked around.
There was a door to the men’s changing rooms and another that seemed to go up to a viewing gallery. She went for the men’s changing rooms. Her boots had filled with water and squelched heavily with every step. Her skirt stuck to her legs, bandaging them together. She stumbled and nearly fell again, all the time conscious of the smoke and fumes billowing into the air around her.
The changing rooms were a mess. People had obviously left in a hurry — clothes were strewn on the benches and floors. But smoke was curling out over the cubicles. She turned back. The more confined the space, the bigger the risk of being overcome by fumes. She had more chance in the large open area of the pool room.
She went up the steps to the gallery. Her clinging skirt made her take tiny, hobbling steps. She tried ripping it, but the wet fabric was stronger than it looked. There was no time to waste. Already thick white fumes were covering the surface of the pool. She stumbled on and saw that the fire escape door was open! She stepped out onto a metal walkway. It continued in a diagonal line across the roof, with railings on each side.