Free Ghost River by Tony Birch Page B

threw it in Tiny’s direction. The log landed in front of the humpy and sparked to life.
    â€˜Shut your mouth. Ya done nothing for this river. Anytime. She don’t forget. Don’t you be having an accident and fall in. Ya do, Tiny, and she’ll thieve the last breath from your body.’
    Tiny backed into the humpy, fearful of Tex’s words.
    The boys said goodbye and headed for home. Although the air was warm Ren shivered as he neared the wheelhouse, sure he could hear a tangle of snakes slithering in the cellar water. They dragged the bike up the track between them, reached the top, then turned and looked down at the campfire smoke-signals rising in the air. Ren looked further on to Deep Rock. He couldn’t make sense of the idea that someone would want to destroy the river just so people could go for a ride in a car.
    â€˜Last smoke,’ Sonny called. ‘Pass the tobacco.’ He fixed his eyes on the water the whole time he rolled his cigarette. ‘They can’t do it. Blow it up. There must be a law to stop them doing something like that.’
    â€˜Maybe they can. One of my aunties used to live in a house she and my uncle paid money for. They owned it. Never stopped the government coming along and taking the house away from them. Knocked it over with all the other houses in the street.’
    Sonny stuck his head between his knees and took a deep breath. ‘This is our place. We can’t let them do it.’ He passed the cigarette to Ren. It was perfectly rolled.
    Ren looked up at the sky and watched as a hawk lifted from one of the girders of the iron bridge. It swooped down and glided along the river, its wings tipping the surface of the water. The bird suddenly dipped its beak and plucked something out of the water. Ren couldn’t be certain from such a distance, but it looked like the bird had a rat in its mouth. The hawk flew into the sky and hung over the river before turning and flying back to the bridge.
    Ren left Sonny at the back gate and sat sulking in the backyard toilet, thinking about the damage that might be done to the river. A little while later he heard the sounds of digging in the lane. Except for stray dogs nobody used it but him and Sonny. He went into the yard and opened the back gate. Della was scraping mud along the lane with a shovel and tipping the mess into a rubbish bin. She was without her scarf and her hair hung across her face.
    Ren was surprised when she looked up at him and smiled. ‘My father doesn’t want the bad smell entering our church. We will begin services soon.’
    â€˜Services?’
    â€˜Yes. We have been sent here by the Messenger to hold the Gatherings.’
    â€˜From where? Your father, he sounds like an American. You too, sort of.’
    â€˜Oh, we’ve been there, to the United States. My father trained there, with the Messenger himself. When the time came for my father to be tested, and he passed the test, he was sent to mission. We’ve been to many places across the world, my father speaking His word. And now, he has been called here to save.’
    â€˜To Collingwood? Good luck to you. People are too far gone to be saved round here. What was the test your father passed?’
    â€˜A test of pain,’
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜Another follower held one of my father’s hands on a wooden table and stood a nail on it. We watched as my father drove the nail through his hand with a hammer.’
    Della spoke the words with no more drama than if she were telling Ren how to thread needle and cotton. He was sure the story couldn’t be true, but was polite enough to say nothing. He watched as Della collected a shovelful of muck. ‘It’s dog shit,’ he offered, which wasn’t really necessary, he thought, as soon as he had made the comment, seeing as Della was the one shovelling it. ‘It’s dumped mostly, out of the backyards.’
    Della didn’t seem interested