“Nothing, Doc. Keep a watch on the far side of the pool and tell us, quietly , if you see anyone over there. But don’t do nothing hasty.”
The two pair of eyes were still watching Jak as he swam slowly around the edge of the pool.
It had to have been obvious to the natives that their presence had been spotted by both J.B. and Ryan, but they still made no attempt to move back into deeper cover.
They whispered to each other, revealing that their teeth had been filed to points. Ryan glimpsed tiny flecks of blue-green stone embedded in their central incisors that he guessed were chips of turquoise.
Jak had stripped to his shorts for the swim, and was now picking his way out of the pool, his pale body gleaming in the sunlight. His hair fell across his shoulders like a shawl of snow.
He looked across toward Ryan and the Armorer, suddenly spotting the two faces peeking out at him. He gave a yell of warning and pointed a finger, as white as wind-washed bone, at the pair of intruders.
“Lookout!” he yelled.
The natives vanished as quickly as if they’d been grabbed from behind. There was a brief flurry of rustling from the undergrowth, and then silence again.
“Same ones?” Jak called, standing still, the water barely reaching his knees.
“Reckon so,” Ryan replied. “Or someone very much like them. Didn’t seem to mean us any harm.”
“What do they want?” Krysty asked, walking from the pool, the water streaming over her breasts and stomach and thighs. “Just curious?”
Ryan nodded, holstering the SIG-Sauer. “Reckon so. You people had long enough to swim and freshen up. Our turn now. Get the blasters as soon as you’re dressed and keep a lookout. But don’t start shooting unless there’s a good reason. Place like this, wild jungle, probably isn’t a good place to upset the locals with a firefight.”
THE WATER FELT EVERY BIT as good as it had looked and tasted.
Ryan peeled off his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile, but carried his blaster to the edge of the pool and placed it on the rich grass.
The small lake wasn’t big enough to extend himself and swim properly, but Ryan luxuriated in moving up and down its length, mouth open to draw in great drafts of the fresh water. Like the albino teenager, he had stripped down to his shorts, relishing the movement of the cool liquid against his skin.
J.B. wasn’t a great swimmer and he moved nervously from side to side, taking care not to ever get himself too much beyond his depth.
Doc had pulled off his cracked knee boots and stained frock coat, hesitating before divesting himself of his ancient breeches. He peeled off the white shirt to reveal a tattered undershirt that buttoned high up to his neck and undershorts that covered him all the way down to his skinny knees.
“By all the saints, Doc!” exclaimed Mildred, who was in the middle of getting herself dressed. “That is one of the damnedest things I ever did see.”
“Well, your body, ma’am, hardly seemed to me to present a perfect picture of God’s gift to mankind.”
“Hey, watch your mouth, Doc,” J.B. snapped angrily. “Mildred didn’t”
But the woman quieted him with a raised hand. “All right, my dear. I can fight my own battles, particularly against a shrunk-shanked old goat like Doc here.”
“I don’t think I shall be taking the waters after all,” Doc muttered.
Mildred realized that the old man was genuinely hurt and embarrassed. “Hey, Doc, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth. Wasn’t very funny, was it?”
“No, I confess I was less than amused by your comments, Dr. Wyeth.”
“Come on, Doc. Time’s passing,” Ryan called, paddling on his back, staring up into the deep green of the overhead branches, blinking at the occasional shafts of bright sun.
Doc stalked toward the inviting pool, looking like a somewhat disheveled heron, clutching to him the ragged underclothes and his ragged dignity.
THEY ALL LAY in the grass, letting hair dry, resting from the swim, enjoying the cool shade. A light wind had risen, taking away the top layer of the stifling humidity.