BUNYIP & HELLHOUSE

THE NEXT FILES

DOUBLE PUZZLER

BUNYIP

And

HELLHOUSE

by

G L Keady

ALSO BY

G L Keady

DREAMRAIDERS

SONS OF STEEL

CHANNELING BO

THE INCARNATE

Axis Stone Mysteries

SUICIDE BLONDE

LEG MAN

SMUGGLER’S HOLE

HORSE ARM CASE

GOD’S DOOR

THE SACRED THREE

THE GIRL WITH THE LUNATIC FRINGE

CAT STREET

THE ZIGGY STARDUST DEAD RINGER

Sons of Steel Saga

FUTURES END

CYBERWARS

DARK ENERGY

BLOCKCHAIN

AL AND THE ID

TABLETS OF DESTINIES

DOMINION

ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

The Next Files

EIGHT DRAGONS

MIN MIN

LANG SUYAR

BLOOD OF THE AZTECS

Published in Australia in 2024

by Big Island Publishing

Copyright © Gary Keady 2024

The right of Gary Keady to be identified as the moral rights

author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance

with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) AD. 2000

This book is copyright.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study,

research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act,

no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.

Enquiries should be addressed to the publishers.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this work may be copied by any means without

prior written agreement of the publishers.

Big Island Publishing

PO Box 3027, Tuross Head, 2537, NSW, Australia

www.bigislandpublishing.au

ISBN:

E-book: 9780975633083

Print: 9780975633090

Edited by: Canon Doyle

Cover design: Brandon Evans-Keady

CHAPTER

ONE

Wearing earbuds that played ‘Girl of the World’, one of her favourite tracks, Mirren Butler tussled with the unsteady old gate of Mont House. It’s an abandoned, rundown farmhouse sitting on Yanco Creek. The moon was full and yellow overhead, casting an eerie shadow over the house from a big, dead blue gum at the driveway’s side.

Mirren is a Wiradjuri girl, working as a junior heritage officer for Parks, Heritage and Wildlife. She oversees six heritage estates, including Mont House. She drove her Rav 4 through the gate and pulled up at the homestead. Fresh from graduating Leeton High and new on the job, she had P plates on the council car. Mont House was her last stop on her weekly rounds, and she was late, not planning on checking for vandalism in the dark.

She left the headlights on, took out her earbuds, grabbed her torch, and stepped out of the car, heading for the porch steps. The single-storey weatherboard house had a menacing look, with windows on either side of the front door like eyes and a weird curved door arch resembling an angry mouth. The wind was picking up, hinting at the spring storm on the way, with lightning flashing in the south.

The floorboards creaked under Mirren’s work boots. A gust of wind brought a strange sound—a mix of a dog’s howl and a croaky growl, something she’d never heard before. She ignored it, scanning the area with her torch, confirming everything was secure. She checked the CCTV on the eave, its red light blinking, showing it was sending digital images back to the office via satellite. Job done, she waved at the CCTV, then turned to leave.

But then, a loud, unearthly scream stopped her dead. She swung her torch towards the creek, where the noise had come from. Suddenly feeling very alone in the dark, she bravely, tentatively, started towards the tree line edging the swampy creek, about 100 metres away.

The wind intensified, sending her long black hair streaming out like a banner; the storm was drawing closer—thunder rolled in the distance. A sudden crack resounded, and her torchlight revealed a Weeping Willow, where the large, intense eyes of an owl stared back at her. Winding through the trees, Mirren reached a stagnant billabong, a relic of the last flood, with the murmuring of Yanco Creek audible in the distance. Suddenly, the harmonious nocturnal chorus of frogs and crickets fell silent, leaving the world around her eerily quiet. She stood still, a chill running down her spine. The tales from her elders echoed in her mind, warning of supernatural occurrences heralded by such silence. A loud splash from the billabong made her spin around, her torch illuminating a floating cow, its body gruesomely ripped open... truly gross. The reeds along the billabong’s bank rustled violently ... something was moving through them, something low and swift. As she cast the light through the reeds, trying to spot the source, she caught a fleeting glimpse of something otherworldly, unlike anything she had ever seen or imagined. In that heart-stopping moment, Mirren knew, deep down, it had to be a bunyip.

With his cowboy boots propped up on the desk, his father’s hat tipped back on his head, and blowing big purple bubblegum bubbles, Digger was utterly engrossed in the email he’d just received.

Hey! Jax exclaimed, entering abruptly, startling Digger nearly out of his skin.

Jax, you scared the heck out of me!

Jax sauntered over, Oh sorry, didn’t mean to … What’s got you so jumpy?

This email from a Wiradjuri girl. She had a close encounter with a bunyip.

Seriously? I thought bunyips were just in Aboriginal folklore, you know, lurking in billabongs and riverbeds, waiting to snatch livestock, women, and kids … that kind of stuff.

Yeah, that’s what I always thought. But wait till you read this … She’s legit, works for Parks and Wildlife.

Jax’s interest piqued. Where exactly?

Leeton.

Should’ve guessed when you mentioned Wiradjuri. Their country includes Narrandera, Yanco, Leeton… Wiradjuri means ‘running water’, right? After the Murrumbidgee River.

Yeah, ‘Murrumbidgee’ translates to ‘big water’ in Wiradjuri. Here, take a look… He swivelled his monitor for her to read the email. After a quick scan, Jax said, So she wants us to check it out?

Yep. Locals think it’s typical cattle mutilation, Digger explained.

Like from aliens?

That’s one guess … The newspaper in Wagga Wagga reported it but didn’t specify. No mention of a bunyip or aliens. They hinted at dingoes.

Dingoes wouldn’t do that to a cow, Jax stated matter-of-factly.

It would make a cracking ‘Next Files’ story, Digger chuckled, eager for a trip out of town.

You just want to hit the bush, Jax observed, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

Think you can persuade Doc?

Probably. He loves debunking myths. He’d jump at the chance.

An hour later, Jax was in Carter’s office, laying out the story for him. Carter, in his typical pitch-receiving mode, sat behind his desk, rotating a pen between his fingers while slightly swaying in his big office chair. After Jax finished her pitch, a pause filled the room. Carter halted his swivelling and pen-twirling, clearly having reached a decision.

Hmm, the bunyip falls into the same category as the yowie, Australia’s version of sasquatch, the yeti and bigfoot … I’m not sure if a cattle mutilation will thrill our city audience.

That wouldn’t be my angle boss, like it’s about the horror this teenage Wiradjuri girl, Mirren Butler experienced at this old abandoned Mont House. Digger’s idea is for us stay a few nights there and film it, hand held…

I get it like the Blair Witch Project?

Yep, something like that.

Well if it gets the audience it got in 1999, but it was a mockumentary, is that your intention?

No. I won’t risk losing the integrity of The Next Files.

Good to hear, he said, resuming his pen-twiddling. Run it past Janet, if you get her approval it’s a go.

Thanks boss.

As she was getting up to leave, Carter asked, By the way when’s Tilly back?

According to Digger the next day or two.

And Doc, haven’t seen him around?

After Janet, I’ll need to pitch bunyip to him.

Good luck with that, he said with a sceptical glint in his eye.

Jax entered the Friend in Hand pub, expecting to find Doc playing his usual game of darts. True to form, there he was, sitting with a couple of mates, enjoying a beer. Doc looked up as she approached and said cynically, Ah, if it isn’t queen Jax. His comment drew a raucous laugh from his three companions.

Blushing and a bit embarrassed, Jax folded her arms and rolled her eyes. Done?

Doc grinned. Ease up, Jax. I was just telling these guys about our last crazy adventure.

Jax wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Need to talk to you, in private.

Doc got up, Sure thing, let’s hit the bar. Looks like you need a drink.

As they made their way to the bar, Doc shared a light-hearted story. My mate Bevan was just telling us he was visiting his sister yesterday when he came out of her place, the house across the street was being auctioned. He saw a friend of his in the auction, gave him a wave and bought the house.

Jax cracked a smile. For real? Or you just messing with me?

Nope, just trying to get a smile out of you. So, what’s up?

They sat on stools at the bar. Doc ordered a couple of beers, and Jax filled him in on the bunyip story. Waiting for his reaction, she watched as he mulled it over. Finally, he said, The cattle mutilation angle is interesting. I’ve read about instances in the States, blaming it on aliens doing experiments or something. Doesn’t make a lot of sense that an alien species would travel the galaxy to visit an outback town to autopsy a cow.

I agree, which is why Digger and I favour the bunyip scenario.

Isn’t that just Aboriginal myth?

Yes, but there have been sightings of it since colonisation.