Belly Flop (12 page)

It's urgent.

I'm on a very high diving board.

I‘ve never done a high dive before into real water.

The water's a long way down and there isn't enough of it.

Mum and Dad are sitting down there with Mr Grimmond and everyone's depending on me.

I've got to dive.

Tell me you're still looking after me, Doug.

Mr Tristos has only got six steps left to climb.

Give me a sign, Doug.

Anything'll do.

A bird winking at me.

A cloud in the shape of a thumbs up.

Only three steps left.

I've got to dive now.

That black cloud over on the horizon looks a bit like a thumbs up.

Either that or a tombstone.

I guess I'll know in about five secs.

See ya, Doug.

Arms . . . legs . . . focus . . .

Mr Tristos is so close I can feel drops of his sweat splashing on me.

Wait a sec.

Those drops.

They aren't from Mr Tristos.

They're from the sky.

 

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

I would have dived, Doug.

I wanted to.

OK, at first I just wanted to stand there with my head back and feel the rain splashing on my face while my legs stopped wobbling.

But I got the urge to dive again after a few secs.

Once Mr Tristos started hugging me and dancing round on the board and singing.

Trouble was, I couldn't get back to the edge because the more Mr Tristos's clothes got sodden with rain, the heavier he was to drag.

And when Mrs Chaplin finally made it to the top and he let go and started dancing with her, so many ecstatic people down below had jumped into the pool there wasn't a clear patch of water.

I'm not complaining, Doug.

Now it's raining there'll be heaps of water to dive into.

Thanks to you.

And this time I'm gunna make it up to you, Doug.

For doubting you.

I'm gunna make sure everyone knows you're the hero who broke the drought.

I've told as many people as I can, Doug.

I'm not sure it sank in with everyone.

Sometimes it's hard to get people's attention when they're doing cartwheels in puddles and dancing on car roofs and kissing pot plants, but I did my best.

I got some people's attention, but.

They didn't actually say anything when I told them about your angel powers, but I could see they were impressed.

And grateful, Doug.

Like me.

I'd forgotten how noisy rain is.

Which is another reason why I'm having trouble getting some people's attention.

For example, in the car going out to the airstrip I told Dad, Mum, Gran and Mr Grimmond from the bank that you'd made it rain, Doug.

Nobody said a thing.

The noise of the rain must have drowned out my words.

Funny but, when we got to the airstrip and Dad told Mr Grimmond that the farmers would soon be able to pay their debts and Mr Grimmond told Dad to keep up the good work and Dad told Mr Grimmond to hurry up or his plane might not be able to take off, the rain didn't drown out their words.

Oh well.

Perhaps I've strained my voice with too much yelling for joy.

I gave Gran her receipt when we got home.

It was pretty soggy, but she knew what it was.

I didn't say anything about you making her spend her life savings, Doug, in case she got irate and choked on her toast.

I just told her she's the best Gran in the whole world and gave her a hug.

She didn't say anything at first, just hugged me back.

Then she said, ‘We're quits now, eh?'

I smiled and nodded even though I didn't understand what she meant.

She must have seen I didn't.

‘I got you started on Doug,' she said, ‘so I reckoned it was up to me to finish it. I reckoned the best way to convince you Doug isn't real was to fill the pool myself and prove you don't need him.'

I stared at her.

‘I thought I couldn't survive without Grandad once,' she said, ‘but I can.'

‘Gran,' I said quietly, ‘Doug is real. He made it rain.'

She started going on about low pressure fronts and high pressure fronts colliding in the upper atmosphere.

Poor old Gran.

People that kind-hearted shouldn't have to suffer the indignity of losing their grip and going unintelligible.

Mum and Dad and Gran have been explaining that it takes twenty-four hours of heavy rain for water to start soaking in to drought-struck land.

They reckon it'd be well and truly doing that now, Doug.

‘I reckon those paddocks'll be almost as waterlogged as you soon,' Gran's just said.

I'm in the bath.

I don't mind her being here, but.

I've got the water so deep she can't see anything.

Two days of non-stop rain.

You're a genius, Doug.

Dad reckons the farmers' dams are filling and there are green shoots coming up at the Wilkinsons' place.

That's what he overheard at the Gas ‘N' Gobble.

The farmers aren't actually speaking to him yet, but they will be soon now he's off their backs.

And once the rain stops and we have the swimming carnival and my diving career takes off, he'll be a hero.

Three days.

Doug, this is wonderful.

I had no idea you'd do it this well.

The river's flowing really fast now.

I'd forgotten this town even had a river.

We had a class excursion down there today and I tried to get everyone to sign a petition.

When I've got a hundred signatures I'll present it to the council.

It's to get the name changed from the Strathpine River to the Doug River.

Not many of the kids wanted to sign it today, but that was probably because the rain was making the letters go runny.

Four days.

Boy, Doug, when you break a drought you really break a drought.

PE was cancelled today because the school hall roof's leaking.

On the way home I went to the video store for Gran, and guess what?

Mr Bullock's cleared out his Water section.

Now it's called Sun and Sand.

Troy and Brent Malley were there picking up
Desert Killers
for their folks.

When I asked them to sign the petition they got really nervous and stood very close to Mr Bullock.

Troy said he'd give me half a Mars Bar if I'd leave them alone.

Pretty weird, eh?

Mum reckons rain can affect people like that.

Five days of rain.

Unbelievable.

Actually Doug, five days will probably be enough.

We probably won't need much more rain after today.

You know, given that all the dams are full.

And all the water tanks have been overflowing for three days.

And there are seven trucks bogged on the highway outside town.

And Gran's muesli has started sprouting.

Don't get me wrong, Doug, we're very grateful.

But today's probably the last day we'll need rain as such.

Doug, I know you like to do a job really well.

That's why you're the world's number one angel.

Well you've done this job really, really well.

Six days non-stop rain is a top effort.

But it's definitely enough.

OK?

Thanks.

Emergency call to Doug.

The main street's under water.

So's the front yard.

It's started coming into the house.

Stop the rain, Doug.

Please.

This is an urgent message to Doug's secretary.

If he's off saving a school camp from a killer spider or something, could you let him know that the rain he started on the Mitch Webber job eight days ago has got totally out of hand.

Gran's bed is soaked.

I've had to put everything in my room on top of the wardrobe.

Mum's had to put all the money at the bank into plastic bags.

The town's being evacuated.

Get him back here.

Now.

I don't understand, Doug.

Where are you?

Can't you see what's happening?

Or is the rain getting in your eyes too?

The whole town's queueing up to get into army helicopters.

Everyone's wet and muddy and miserable.

Most of the grown-ups have been up for the last two nights filling sandbags to try and stop the river bursting its banks.

They've had to give up.

There's a heap of water on its way down from up north and there's just not enough sandbags in town.

Even if we used bags of sheep pellets and disposable nappies we couldn't stop it.

So we're all standing here on the sports oval up to our knees in water.

Nobody's saying anything, but I can tell what everyone's thinking.

The same as me.

Why have you abandoned us, Doug?

 

 

 

 

Looks like me and Dad are cactus.

Dunno why I'm even telling you this, Doug.

Habit, I guess.

At least it gives my brain something to do instead of panic.

Brains don't panic as much when they're up to their necks in work.

That's what Gran reckons.

I'm gunna listen to her more from now on.

I reckon I should have listened to her more when she was trying to tell me about you.

Anyway, I've listened to her about brains, which is why I gave mine a job to do while we were waiting for the helicopters to arrive.

I made it try to cheer me up and make me forget about the rain running down the back of my neck by thinking that at least Carla wasn't in my queue saying ‘I told you.'

Then I looked at the other queues.

She wasn't in any of those either.

‘Dad,' I said, ‘Carla and her mum aren't here.'

Dad looked at me with a grim wet face.

‘Neither are the Wilkinsons or the Malleys,' he said, ‘but we can't worry about them, Mitch, we've got our own problems.'

I looked at him and Mum and Gran.

The only problems I could see were that Dad's green garbage bag raincoat was a hopeless fit and Mum was sad about leaving her computer and dartboard behind and Gran was grumpy because she'd spent all her savings on water and now we were up to our knees in it.

‘Should have spent it on beer,' she was muttering.

I told Dad about Carla's mum's ute and how it never started properly if condensation got into the carby.

‘That's just a few drops of water,' I said. ‘Imagine what a flood'll do.'

‘Mitch,' said Dad, ‘forget it.'

I couldn't.

‘Carla's mum wanted to buy a new ute,' I said, ‘but the bank wouldn't lend her the money.'

Dad looked like he wished he was somewhere else.

Africa or somewhere.

Then he had a muttered conversation with Mum.

Mum nodded.

Gran slapped him on the back.

I was so dazed at seeing this that I was slow off the mark when Dad started sloshing his way across the oval.

‘Wait,' I yelled, splashing after him. I'm coming too.'

He started to send me back, then something made him change his mind.

Perhaps he thought if I came, Doug, you'd be coming too.

Big joke.

We went over to where Dad had tied the four-wheel drive to the war memorial with the winch cable to stop it being swept away.

Dad untied it and we headed out of town towards Carla's place.

The road was hard to see under the water but Dad knows the district like the back of his clipboard so we were right.

For a while.

Then I noticed something.

The water wasn't just splashing up onto the bullbar any more, sometimes it was foaming over the bullbar onto the bonnet.

‘Slow down,' I said to Dad.

‘We're only doing twenty k's,' said Dad. ‘It's not us.'

I knew what he meant.

The water was getting deeper.

Normally at that stage I'd have asked you to keep an eye on us Doug, but there didn't seem much point.

Instead I tried to keep Dad's spirits up.

‘These four-wheel drives are great, aren't they?' I said. ‘The way they keep going through anything.'

Dad grunted.

The engine coughed.

The four-wheel drive stopped.

Dad's been out there fiddling under the bonnet and swearing for ages now.

I've been up on the roof for a squiz around but all I could see was water.

The rain's stopped but the water's still rising.

Another third of a gearstick and it'll be over the car seat.

I blame myself.

I should never have got Dad to try and do a rescue.

Oh well, Doug.

Or Doug's secretary.

Or Doug's answering machine.

Or whoever's listening.

If anyone is.

Which I doubt.

At least Carla's not here to say ‘I told you.'

‘I told you.'

As soon as I heard Carla's voice I spun round.

And banged my head on the roof of the car.

I'd forgotten I was sitting on the back of the seat.

My eyes went funny for a bit and I could have sworn there was a boat coming towards us.

A blue and yellow boat.

With a huge outboard motor.

And a highly trained State Emergency Service rescue team.

Then my eyes cleared and I saw what it really was.

A blue and yellow boat.

With two oars flapping.

And two people arguing.

‘I told you we were going the right way,' Carla was shouting. ‘There's Mitch's dad's four-wheel drive. We must be close to town.'

‘So where are the houses?' yelled Carla's mum. ‘Where's the Gas ‘N' Gobble?'