Chapter 18

“Are you OK?” Sam asked.

“I love you a lot,” Tessa said.

“And I love you. But that’s not what I asked.”

“I’m fine. The nurse said so. But I’m not sure I’m not worried.”

“We can leave here. You and the future are more important than Gabbaitch.”

“And that’s one of the reasons I love you so much. Let’s wait. Let’s just sit tight for a few weeks or a month.”

“Whatever. I leave it to you.”

It was two days later that a government “team” got to Lake Argyle Village. There were four people: a civil engineer, a representative of the Department of Primary Industries and Regional Development, a woman from the Australian Department of Aboriginal Affairs, and a man from WAPOL, the Western Australia Police Force. The last appeared to be both guide and driver. They interviewed those still living in the Village; the engineer and the bloke from what had been ‘Agriculture and Food’ until 2017 climbed down both faces of what remained of the dam road. (Sam, Tessa and the other two dozen now living at Gabbaitch were entertained by Zeke and one of the other men, who sat on the grassy verge, eavesdropping, only to relate everything around dinner.)

On the second morning, the woman from Aboriginal Affairs asked them if the lived in the Village.

“No, miss.”

“Nearby?”

“Not far. Gabbaitch.”

“Is that the name of your band?”

“No, miss.”

“Is that the name for this place?”

“No, miss. Name for our place.”

“Where is that?”

“Over there [pointing].”

“Were you here when the dam broke?”

“No, miss. I was over there [pointing at a mud flat].”

“What happened?”

“Galaru not happy ‘bout lake. Come up from hole an’ make like ago.”

“Thank you. That is interesting.”

“Yes, miss.”

In the afternoon, Andy alerted the settlement: “Government ute coming.”

“OK,” said Sam. “Everyone don’t try to look busy. Jos and I will talk. Be curious. Feel free to listen. Talk to each other. Don’t laugh at me too much.”

The 4×4 with WAPOL and a crest on each door bounced up a few minutes later.

“G’day,” said the officer.

“Day-ee,” said Jos. “Welcome to Gabbaitch.”

“Is that a tribal name?” the woman asked.

“Do we know you?” Sam enquired.

“What?”

“You just arrived. You didn’t bother to greet anyone. You’ve not introduced yourself and you’ve begun with an aggressive query. Are you an MP?”

“What?”

“You said that already. My name is Samuel Hollister. This is Josiah, he is a Wirrimanu man who was summoned to lead a group to take back what was stolen by colonists. And you are?”

“My name is Frances Jones. I’m an anthropologist with the Department of Aboriginal Affairs.”

“How do you do? And your ... uh ... friends?”

“This is Sgt. Simpson of WAPOL; Mr. Palumbo, an engineer with the State; and Mr. Edwards, from Primary Resources.” Sam nodded at each in turn.

“And to what do we owe this visit?”

“We are investigating the dam failure and will report to the State about it,” said Edwards.

“Interesting. Did it take nearly a month for the news to reach Perth? I was in Armidale and heard about it within a day or two.”

“There was an inter-governmental meeting to determine the appropriate course to follow.”

“Thank you, Ms Jones...”

“Doctor Jones!”

“Oh, of course. So, there was a meeting to determine that a group would travel to the north-east corner of Western Australia and you will now return to your offices to write a report on what everyone already knew.”

“That’s a very harsh way of putting it,” Dr. Jones said.

“Perhaps. But isn’t it accurate?”

“We need the engineering input.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve not heard from you, Mr. Palumbo.”

“Got nothin’ to say.”

“Wise man. I was told you climbed both the lake and river faces of the dam’s remains.”

“Yes.”

“Discover anything?”

“Many of the stones of the support and of the facings have been displaced or are missing. I presume they were swept downstream.”

“I’m certain some were. Would you care to examine others?”

“Of course.”

“Andy!”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Could you show this bloke the well and the stones?”

“Sure thing. This way, mister.” Andy and two of the other men led Palumbo and Edwards towards the spring.

Sam waved at Zeke. “Dr. Jones, this is Zeke. Zeke, could you tell Dr. Jones what you heard happened to the dam?”

“Sure. You know Galaru, doctor?”

“Yes. Galaru is the sky-snake personage that’s associated with the more dangerous aspects of cyclonic rain and lightning.”

“Just so. Near two hunnert year ago, the Duracks brought their cattle an’ sheep here. They changed things, but they weren’t bad. An’ the grass grew an’ the rivers flowed. But ‘bout seventy year ago, the state moved the last o’ the homestead. An’ they built the dam here an’ ‘nother by Kununurra, the new town. They didn’t ask for our land an’ they filled up the area with water an’ drowned a lot o’ the grass. The Great Serpent wasn’t happy. You whitefellas drowned his hole. So, by’n’by the Serpent grows angry an’ he send Galaru. An’ now there’s no more dam an’ no more lake an’ the Serpent go back ter sleep in his hole.”

“Thank you, Zeke,” Sam said. “What do you think, Jos?”

“I heard a roar in the night an’ in mornin’ there no more lake.”

Doctor Jones stared at the three young men. She’d a good degree from Adelaide and achieved middle rank in Canberra. She’d read many myths and listened to several storytellers. But this was a current event, not something out of Dreamtime.

Andy, Palumbo and Edwards had returned during Zeke’s narration.