“Take cover!” she shouted to her team. “We’re good, Gibbons. Tell them to drop the mud. We’re clear.”
Through the smoke, she watched the retardant plane swing over the ridge, heard the thunder
of its gates opening to make the drop, and the roar as the thick pink rain streaked down from the sky.
Chasing Fire
______________________
Fires burned out of control in Sydney's north ahead of a
wind change on Tuesday night that could send infernos in a completely new
direction, spelling disaster for at risk areas.
______________________
“You don’t want to hear about mud.”
“You’re wrong,” she told him as they gathered up the tray,
the glasses, the wine. “I’m interested.”
“It’s thick pink goo, and burns if it hits your skin.”
“Why pink? It’s kind of girlie.”
He grinned as she got out a skillet. “They add ferric oxide
to make it red, but it looks like pink rain when it’s coming down.
The color marks the drop area.”
Chasing Fire