The Town Under the Lake by Rebecca Cali
If you looked out at Lake Crentan, you would see a picturesque landscape. Gentle lapping water. Flocks of wild birds. Families picnicking happily on the shore. The setting of a perfect day out. But lurking deep below the surface is a secret. A town once stood in this very place. A thriving town of 2500 people. All wiped out in a single morning. Enough time has now passed that this town has become a forgotten story. Its lost population ghosts that haunt the shores. This is their story.
Rain fell from the sky in curtains, covering the tiled roofs in a wet blanket. This downpour had lasted 6 days so far and showed no signs of letting up. The children sat inside, staring out the windows with forlorn faces. The initial excitement of frolicking in the rain was long gone, boredom and cabin fever growing in its place. There are only so many times one can change their wet clothes before it becomes tedious.
Raindrops rolled down the glass. “Mother, surely this weather will change soon. We will soon have to row a boat to get to the end of the street!” Denise sighed deeply, her hot breath fogging the window. She traced her finger idly on the glass as the fog cleared. Her mother chuckled softly from her chair.
“A bit of rain is not going to harm us. You will be thankful for this when we have full dams in the dry season.” She turned back to her knitting, the rainbow blanket covering half her lap. She could hide her deformed leg under there and no one would know about her ailment. The horse that had thrown her as a child had left her with such an injury that she was not able to walk unassisted. Her cane leaning against the chair was the only clue now that she was any different from everyone else. The roaring fire crackled in the hearth, throwing shadowy figures around the room. Denise watched as a flock of cockatoos flew over her house, more than she had ever seen before. ‘That’s odd,’ she thought to herself. ‘I wonder if they are going with that mob of kangaroos that dashed past earlier. Probably finding somewhere dry to escape to. I wish I could go with them.’ Denise sighed loudly again and flopped onto the ground, watching the flames flicker wildly. Her eyelids grew heavy as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Far upstream from the peaceful town, a waterlogged river snaked through the land. Swollen by the recent rain, the current raged stronger than ever. Animals raced to high ground, trying to escape the wild water racing through the valley. The dam walls had been built 20 years earlier, an engineering marvel at the time. “This dam will use the latest technology all the way from Germany, it will never need maintenance! Just build and forget,” Mr. Coult, the engineer in charge of the project, had boasted. He had collected his fee and the dam had been built in record time. The construction of the town had followed in the now dried out valley. People had come from all around the country to settle on the rich, fertile soil. The occasional fish skeleton or turtle shell being unearthed was the only reminder to the town that this valley had once been underwater. The trust in the dam was such that many now forgot that it even existed. It controlled the flow of water into the town and ensured they had enough to get by during the dry summer months, but for most in the town, it was simply something that had been in place for as long as they remembered. This meant that no one had checked the dam during this prolonged downpour. No one had checked how full the dam had gotten. No one had checked if the walls were standing. No one checked. If they had, they would have seen water spilling over the dam walls in huge waterfalls. If they had, they would have heard the creaking of the concrete, as deep webs of cracks spread over the surface. If they had, they would have raised the alarm to evacuate the town, giving the people time to find safety on higher ground. But no one had checked.
The explosion of the dam wall blew chunks of concrete across the valley. The deafening boom echoed against the steep mountain slopes travelling all the way through the valley to the small town. Houses shook in their foundations as a tremor rippled through the streets. The townspeople froze in their steps. A frantic flurry of voices erupted across the town square. Two words repeating over again. The dam.
The screams woke her with a start. Denise sat upright, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mother was dozing in her chair, snoring softly. Screams echoed outside. Doors banged and slammed as a stampede of dozens of feet thundered past the window. Denise threw open the door. The sight she saw left her speechless. The street outside was filled with people pushing, shoving, fighting to get past, uncaring of the torrential downpour. Screaming children were being carried over shoulders. Bags of groceries were left abandoned in the street, squashed into the stones, washed away by the endless rain. Everyone was running in the same direction, towards the only exit out of town, up the hill. Denise caught a glimpse of her school friend Peter rushing towards her.
“Denise, what are you doing just standing there? You have to go!” Peter’s frantic yells were almost lost in the roar of the riot.
“What has happened?” Denise had to scream to be heard.
“The dam. It’s broken. My mother said we don’t have much time. We have to get to high ground!” With that, Peter vanished, carried along with the crowd. Denise’s heart pounded. A rhythm perfectly in time with the pounding feet streaming past her. Denise turned and raced back inside. Her mother was still asleep in her chair, blissfully unaware of the disaster bearing down upon them. Denise shook her shoulders roughly, her panicked voice adding to the noise outside.
“Mother! Mother, you must wake. We have to leave. The dam, it has broken!” Her mother’s eyes snapped open, wide with fear.
“Help me up.” She snatched her cane from next to her chair and gripped it tightly. Denise grabbed her under the arms and lifted her firmly onto her feet. A slight wobble then she was off, teetering across the small house to the front door. The stream of people had slowed to a trickle, and yet a roar as loud as 1000 feet filled the air. Her mother’s face paled.
“There is no time,” she muttered, her eyes filling with tears. The falling rain washed them away. She turned to Denise. “Listen to me. You have to leave me. I will not be able to keep up, not with this thing.” She tapped her cane on the wet ground.
“Mother, no, you can’t be serious-” Denise began to protest, but was cut off by a loud crash echoing across the valley. The townspeople froze where they stood, their eyes growing wide with terror. This lasted one second. Two. Three. Before frantic movement once again erupted across the square, more panic driven than before. “Go!” Denise’s mother gave her a strong push into the thronging crowd before vanishing behind the wall of people. Denise yelled out for her over and over but her voice was lost in the cacophony of the crowd. Her feet slipped beneath her and she slammed hard into the ground. The feet of the panicked crowd ran over her again and again, stopping her from getting up. Denise felt bruises bloom across her sides as ribs cracked under the heavy footfalls. She curled herself into a ball, arms protecting her head, praying for it to end. Her breath was forced from her lungs with each sharp kick in her side. Suddenly strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. Dazed, Denise caught the eyes of Jim Taylor, the butcher from down the road. She opened her mouth to thank him but he was gone, pulled away in the crowd of people.
Denise allowed herself to be steered by the crowd, careful to keep on her feet. Twice she found herself slipping on the wet road, but was able to right herself before falling entirely.
The noise that had begun as a distant rumble was now a deafening roar, drowning out all other sounds in the world. Denise felt it right down to her bones and into her soul. It kept her upright. It kept her running. Because running was the only way now. Running for her life. And yet the crowd was slowing. No longer running, now pushing, scrambling. They had made it to the bottom of the hill, the only way out of town. Normally a gentle green slope, the days of endless rain combined with the hundreds of people trying to climb it had turned the soft grass into a slick muddy slope. Denise watched in horror as person after person tried to climb the treacherous slope, only to find themselves slipping back down, often taking out others below them. The townspeople at the base of the hill had nowhere to go but up. The thronging crowd pushed them from behind as more and more people tried scrambling to the top. But it was no use. The entire town was trapped. And the water was coming.
Denise looked wildly around but the high cliffs surrounding the town offered no hope for escape. Except…high up on the cliff face, Denise saw it. A small goat, leaping from rock to rock. With no other options, she tore herself away from the crowd and began to climb. The rocks were slippery under her wet fingers but her grip was firm. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her ribs, Denise pulled herself from rock to rock, forcing herself higher and higher. Her breath came out in little puffs, her lungs unable to fill completely. But she could not allow herself any time for respite. She continued pulling, her muscles screaming with protest. 5m then 10m, then 15, Denise moved methodically, following the natural ridges in the rock face, until finally she found herself reaching the peak. With aching arms, she pulled herself onto the flat muddy plateau but did not allow herself to rest. She rolled onto her stomach and peered over the edge of the cliff. She saw a dozen people attempting to climb up the same way she had come. She lay ready to help any that got close enough, but it was too late. From that height, Denise saw what was coming before the rest of the town.
The roaring noise hit its peak as a wall of water slammed into the valley. Houses with wooden frames were swept clean from their foundations, whilst more modern buildings made with stones stood firm. Windows exploded under the enormous pressure of the water. The townspeople clung to each other as they said their last prayers, their voices lost in the sound of destruction. Denise looked one last time at the people below her before the wave hit. Then they were gone.
Of a population of 2500, only 14 people had made it to safety. The grief-stricken souls could only watch as their homes, their town, their families were lost in the raging water. For weeks afterwards, debris washed up onto the edges of the newly formed lake, reminders of the town that had once stood there and the lives that were lost. For decades afterwards, there were sightings of a lone woman wandering the shores, searching for reminders of the lost town. Until eventually, even she was gone. Time passed and the town and its people slipped into memory, then legend. A town reclaimed by nature.
