James Axler – Watersleep

“That’s all well and good, but you’re forgetting that the redoubts and the mat-trans units were sup­posed to be top secret,” Ryan said. “I doubt any lead­ers were shuttling in the wife and kids for a day’s entertainment at government expense, unless he was the big boss or something.”

“Ryan, you’d be surprised,” Mildred replied, thinking of the endless parade of political scandals over the abuse of perks and privileges she’d witnessed on the six-o’clock news. Once, the leaders of the United States were on the front pages of newspapers day in and day out over using too many stamps for personal gain or playing footsie with underage assis­tants or commandeering public-funded transportation for their own personal use.

A man who didn’t hesitate to climb aboard an emergency federal aircraft for a weekend on the golf course with his buddies wouldn’t think twice over hopping into a mat-trans unit to get somewhere scenic and entertaining.

But that was a part of Mildred Wyeth’s previous life, a life that seemed more like a dream or a story she’d read in a book as time passed on.

“This redoubt was stuck in here because Greenglades offered the perfect cover. They probably in­cluded the redoubt blueprints in with the ones for the park, then built them at the same time,” J.B. said flatly. “Never been any logic to where the Totality Concept placed their mat-trans units.”

“Got a point,” Ryan said, thinking of the surreal journey he and Mildred had taken a few months back, secured in icy coffins that were raised up by crane through Abraham Lincoln’s stone nose into the hid­den fortress known as the Anthill. There, inside the cavernous interior of the remains of Mount Rushmore, were cargo and human mat-trans units, sec droids and mad cyborgs.

“One day, I’d like to meet the stupe bastard who came up with all the stuff the Totality Concept had their fingers in,” J.B. mused.

Ryan was surprised. His friend rarely expressed much of an interest in anything beyond weapons.

“Why?”

“It would be my greatest honor to personally chill him or her.”

THE RAIN WAS THE WORST possible kind to have to endure. J.B. had given up on trying to keep his glasses clear, and now walked resolutely at the back of the group, depending more on sound and his own com­bat-honed senses than his vision. He’d thought about just taking his glasses off, but his poor eyesight had quickly changed his mind. Better to be half-blind than completely in a blurry haze. The grass beneath their feet was thick and long, curling up around their ankles as they slogged through the marshland. The earth was moist and spongy, suck­ing at everyone’s feet with each tedious step. The entire group was miserable. Some, like Ryan, had taken off a layer of their outer clothing, while others, such as Doc, kept fully dressed. Neither method of­fered true relief since bare skin offered up a banquet to the small, darting mosquitoes that had bitten Dean back at the redoubt, while keeping covered was like having to march in a blast furnace while wrapped in a mass of sodden quilts.

“Hard to believe anyone would want to come to this hellhole for a vacation,” Mildred said, wiping at her forehead with an already soaked sleeve.

“As I recall, madam, the young and the old flocked to Florida for the scenic beaches and tanning rays of the sun, not the steady drizzle or the state’s varied swamplands,” Doc said, his long white hair drooping around his head like the strands of a dirty mop.

“Give me the mountains any day of the week,” Mildred responded.

“Hold up,” Ryan said from the front of the line. He’d been following the slowly moving river, looking for some kind of a landmark they might remember from before. Nothing as obvious as a sign or a chained-off area presented itself, but ahead of them was a huge fallen tree made of fiberglass and plastic, part of the park’s once carefully cultivated veneer. The path Ryan had been following vanished beneath the fake redwood, and an even denser growth of bushes lay beyond.

“Used to be a bridge here,” J.B. said confidently, his remarkably sharp memory coming into play. “Stretched out clean across the water.”