'It burns brighter than the sun.'
That's what he said, when we told him about the fire. He didn't ask about his daughters or his ex-wife. He didn't ask if anyone was hurt. If anyone had died. He simply said that. I think that's when my colleagues' suspicions solidified into firm ideas about what had happened at that house.
He walked back inside without saying anything else. He didn't really seem to be there with us. I went in after him and sat him down to tell him that his youngest hadn't made it. I was more choked up trying to get the words out. He just stared blankly at me, like I was one of the dusty windows exposing the desert beyond.
And when I told him that his other kid and his ex had made it, that was worse. Nothing in his face changed. I could see the anger flash in the faces of my colleagues at his lack of reaction. So I asked him what he meant before, because I thought it'd be better to turn the conversation away before anyone did anything rash.
'I saw it. It burned brighter than the sun.' He said. That's when the two synapses clicked. He wasn't talking about the house.
He was talking about what he saw on that last mission. About what he saw at the edge of Saturn.
Paddy Dobson
24th April 2022