Bucolic apocalypse.

Today's cover of the Age captures the feeling in Melbourne two days after Australia's worst peacetime disaster. The death toll stands at 131 but will certainly rise as fires are put out in devastated towns and victims are discovered; over 30 fires continue to burn throughout country Victoria; more than 5000 people are homeless. Horrific stories are poring from survivors, firefighters, doctors and volunteers. The nearest deadly fires were roughly 50 km north of Melbourne but most everyone has a friend or relative directly affected, casting a pall of numbness and an opposing spirit of generosity.

Unlike areas in California annually threatened by Santa Ana winds -- where subdivisions of hundreds of homes can be destroyed by a single wall of flame -- country Victoria is like most of Australia outside city limits: Pastoral, largely unpopulated and pockmarked with tiny villages. People are scattered but come together in towns called Kinglake and Marysville -- just two of many now wiped from the map. Survivors describe their experiences in apocalyptical terms: How fire came over hilltops like a 'tsunami of flame'; how houses didn't burn but exploded and were gone in a flash; how people thought they'd dodged a bullet but suddenly, with Saturday's late wind change that brought cooler temperatures but breathed new life into the firestorms, were inundated by black smoke and a sky that 'rained fire'. People weren't in the midst of a natural disaster -- they were being attacked by a relentless, bloodthirsty beast.

Of course, and most sickeningly, many Victorians don't consider this a natural disaster. Firebugs are suspected of causing many, if not most, of the fires. Experts are quick to warn that Saturday's once-in-a-lifetime weather conditions, combined with years of drought, made fire as inevitable as the explosion of a lit firecracker. Forensic experts are combing for evidence, but Australia's premier Kevin Rudd spoke for the nation this morning when he said arsonists are guilty of 'mass murder'.

Aradhna and I have driven through many sections of country Victoria. The words of this heroic firefighter capture the quiet pride that's been replaced by stunned horror and disbelief:

Firefighter David McGahy is a farmer who pulls no punches -- a man with a manner that suggests he is not the most easily bothered of souls.

But in the past two days he has seen and heard more devastation in his tiny community -- next to Arthur's Creek - than he could have ever imagined. His blue eyes work at a feverish pace; he has simply seen and heard too much.

The fire cut a swathe through the once picturesque town, leaving bloated cows with hooves pointed skyward, burnt-out buses, houses with only chimneys standing and plenty of heartache.

Looking towards the town from a battle-scarred front yard, Mr McGahy, the captain of the Arthur's Creek CFA brigade, and the divisional commander of this section of the fires, fought back tears.

"I've had a fair bit of criticism from people saying why didn't you help me, but I couldn't help them," he said.

"I couldn't do anything."