James Axler – Watersleep

Since Ryan’s group was in many ways nomadic, traveling from point to point with no real destination, perhaps the doctor was right. Perhaps the redoubts were indeed becoming home.

Not that any of the group of friends was ever going to become a homebody.

The mass of green outside smelled of damp, and the rain was pouring down. Outside, there was the unknown, and each and every one of them would rather venture out there than remain inside even the plushest and safest of the redoubts.

“Looks like home,” Jak said about the swamp­lands, referring to his time spent back in Cajun coun­try in Louisiana. “Pretty.”

“That’s right, Jak,” Krysty said. “You weren’t with us last time we set foot out here.”

“No. Was back in New Mexico then. With Chris­tina.”

Krysty immediately sensed a shift in the albino’s entire mental aura. The mention of his late wife had caused her memory to leap back into his mind and drop him into an even deeper funk than the glum albino normally wore as a shield against the world. It was almost like a purple shroud had suddenly envel­oped his entire body, a shroud only Jak could feel, and only Krysty, by virtue of her mutant abilities, could see.

“Oh, Jak, I—” Krysty began.

“No. Not forget her. Never forget,” the albino re­plied. “Not your fault, Krysty.”

Krysty smiled gratefully at Jak, but still mentally cursed herself. She knew that Jak cherished the mem­ories of his time spent at peace at the New Mexico ranch. Until their untimely deaths, the young man had experienced the kind of love with his wife and child that only a family can bring. For a short time, Jak Lauren had known the peace of having a place of his own away from the constant death and violence, and Krysty envied him for it.

“Where to, leader man?” Mildred asked Ryan.

“Straight ahead, to the farthest star, and take a left to morning,” Doc interjected before Ryan could re­ply. “Or not,” he added, seeing the flash of annoy­ance in Ryan’s eye.

“J.B., what do you think?”

“Not much point in going west—that’s where the Cajuns were camping out last. If we stay on the path we took before, we’ll end up inside the park.”

“At least we’re familiar with the layout there,” Ryan said. “We’ll go that way until we see or hear something to convince me otherwise.”

THEY PASSED by the shredded remains of an animated Zulu warrior and his rhino companion outside the re­doubt’s doorway. On their previous visits, when they had first ventured outside, Ryan had stepped on a trig­ger switch that brought the pair to life. In retaliation, his companions had laid down a hail of bullets so fast Ryan had barely enough time to hit the grass.

Androids. Part of the attraction at Greenglades Theme Park.

What was left of the pair had now fallen prey to the growth of the swamp, the heavy rains and the earthquakes. Both warrior and rhino were completely enveloped by tendrillike green vines. If Ryan hadn’t known where to look, he never would have spotted the pair a second time.

“You know, now that we’re not out here with our guns blazing away at those droids, something just oc­curred to me.”

“What’s that, Mildred?” Ryan asked.

“I wonder why this redoubt was located in the middle of a swamp that served as a public site for family amusement? I doubt mat-trans units were listed on the official see-and-do itinerary.”

“Perhaps it was a way of getting the top political bosses and their families into the park unseen,” Doc mused. “Security for government leaders has always been a problem whenever the power elite took a no­tion to mingle with the common folk.”

“True. The First Family could step into a chamber in Washington, and in less than a minute, appear here. Want to suck up to a senator? Bring him down south.

Got a major conglomerate head you want to grease? Impress him with a magic visit to Florida. The same could apply to visiting foreign dignitaries and heads of state. I mean, what better way to impress a Russian or Chinese leader than to transport them into the fan­tasy kingdom of Greenglades Park for a night of fun and games?” Mildred asked rhetorically.