Waiting for the Flyers (Dreamtime)

My Kangaroo dream returned. Sitting on my rock a flyer came over and took my hand. She seemed to be asking me to go with her. She held me very tight while we flew across the red sand in ten metre bounds. The warm wind blowing in my hair, my feet barely touched the ground. Soon other flyers joined in our flight of freedom kicking up a red cloud as we went. After some time we came to a standstill. All the mother ‘roos gathered around me each with a healthy Joey in their pouch. About a kilometre away there was an ancient Land Cruiser truck from the 1990’s, its cream paint stained by red dust on red rust.

I heard a familiar male voice: ‘No worries, Bren. She’ll keep us safe. The old girl’s built like a tank, so long’s we can get petrol she’ll keep going forever.’

A large Mungo tree stood near the truck. Under its shading branches a group of Arrarnte sat in a circle around a hearth telling stories. One by one they turned their heads to stare at us. A great sense of relief come over me. I knew they were living in real time. The image faded.

They survived. We are not alone. . . ‘Ma wake up. Are you ok?’

Opening my eyes I found Rachael leaning over me, worry frowning her soft features.

‘Morning Darling,’ I drawled, I’m alright. What’s the prob?’

‘You were tossing around from side to side and mumbling. You said something about not being alone.’

‘Don’t worry Rache. Just a dream.’

‘What was it about? It seems to have got you pretty excited.’

‘Can’t remember.’ I lied.

******

Clearing a direct path to Burnalham took about three weeks. It was a slow job. We couldn’t spare a lot of people, they were needed for the crop protection patrols. The work was done by Jack and Jess and small team of strong young guys. The main problem was the wooded areas. Trees had to be cut down and the roots removed so they could prepare a smooth path suitable for wheeled vehicles. It was necessary to stabilise the surface between the trees –fortunately there was plenty of spare paving material, but it had to be fetched from the Tech Centre. The open grassed areas were left untouched as much as possible while the weather was dry, but they had to strengthened before winter.

Jess and a couple of his friends were getting impatient. They kept asking Jack if they could push on ahead to check out the village. There was some arguments about it, but Jack and Terry managed to calm things down.

Once they were out of the trees and on to open ground things progressed quickly. It was just a matter of removing scrub and compacting the disturbed soil where necessary. The work was light. At times they were joined by a curious young boys bucking off school. Jack was forever trying to get them to return to their studies.

The final obstacle was the hedgerow at the side of the road to Burnalham. Cutting a space wide enough for the cars pulling a trailer took all day. The cars were botcars fitted with manual control. During the previous year Alan completed ten units. Once through the hedge it was a case of cutting back the decades of growth spread across the road’s hard surface. It would be a while before it would be passable for the cars.

Again there was trouble with Jess not wanting to wait until the road was cleared. There was no reason to wait for another week or more until cars could go in. Jack and Terry argued going in on foot would delay the preparations for the cars. Jess insisted it was better to walk in first and check out the layout of the village so there would be no unexpected hazards for the cars. He had a point, but Jack wouldn’t budge.

Slamming his shovel to the ground, Jess called a couple of his guys over and they set off toward the village. Jack grabbed Jess trying to stop him. With both men having a tendency to be hot-headed and stubborn a fight was inevitable. Fortunately, Terry being the biggest of my sons the two were quickly separated, but not until blood was drawn. The rest of the young men stayed back not wishing to challenge Terry or Jack.

‘Right you bone brains. You’re acting like a couple of gronks,’ (a word I’d used from my childhood when my kids kicked-off ), ‘Why can’t you rationalise instead of head butting a tree?

Jack and Jess half listened while they brushed dust and twigs off their clothes and carefully felt around their painful noses and busted lips checking for blood.

‘Ma’s gonna be really sad when she hears you been fighting. You know what that can mean. . . . Now when I think about it, I reckon Jess has a point, but at the same time we shouldn’t waste time unnecessarily. It’s getting late and we’re tired. You two need to calm down and clean up. We should go home now and talk this over with Ma and see if she’ll agrees we take a day out for the three of us to have a wander around tomorrow.’