“And boats,” Dean added. “All kinds of plastic boats with ripped-up roofs and funny names.”
“Queen of the South,” Doc said. “I recall that was one of the poor stranded hulks. But where the sad Queen and all of her familiars have vanished, I cannot say.”
“Bridge probably fell in the quake,” Krysty suggested. “And those boats weren’t exactly secure.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan said. “I recognize the tree.”
“Alas, even the mighty redwoods cannot withstand the power of the land,” Doc said.
“Sure, Doc. Whatever,” Ryan said absently, trying to get some relief from the rain by standing beneath a second, unfelled mock redwood.
“All right, this spot here is close to where the sec man Kelly got the drop on us first time we came through. This visit, I think we’ll try and be a little more subtle until we see what the situation is.”
“Think folk still here?” Jak asked.
“Could be. One thing we do know is that many of the people living in the ville were chilled in the fight with Traven, and my guess is with Larry dead, there wouldn’t be reason to hang around this place for long once the rides went down and the electricity messed up.”
“Debate as you will, friends. I’m going to fetch a drink,” Doc said, heading for the shallow edge of the riverbank. “I am frightfully parched.”
“Mildred, any chance of this water being drinkable?” Ryan asked.
“No reason it shouldn’t be,” the doctor replied. She turned after the departing Doc, unable to resist adding, “My advice is to be more worried about what’s in the water.”
Ryan agreed. “Got a point, Mildred. J.B., go with Doc. Keep an eye out for snakes. If the water’s okay, we can refill our ration canteens.”
The Armorer nodded and followed Doc to the edge of the slowly moving water.
Standing near his father, Dean looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of snakes, since he had nearly had the life squeezed out of him by a multi-hued mutated boa constrictor in his previous visit to this section of Greenglades.
“You thirsty, Dean?” Ryan asked.
“No. No, I think I’ll stay right where I am, Dad.”
“Be nice to go skinny-dipping in there, lover. Take the edge of this wet heat.” Krysty said, crooking an arm through one of Ryan’s elbows. “After sweating for so long in the redoubt, then stomping around all afternoon in this fetid mess, I’m sure all of us could use a dunking.”
“I hear you, but I think I’d rather go for a swim when the rain stop—”
Their conversation was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek from Doc.
Chapter Six
Less than five minutes before Ryan and Krysty would be interrupted by his panicked cry, Doc knelt carefully at the muddy edge of the murky waters and cupped his hands to drink.
“How’s it taste?” J.B. asked, stepping up behind the kneeling Doc. The Armorer was scanning the surface of the water, looking for signs of movement. He took off his glasses for the hundredth time since venturing into Greenglades, and tried to wipe them clear on his shir.t Even with the scene in front of him being blurry, J.B. could tell the river’s flow could be tracked in centimeters, like slow, sticky molasses. Where the water began and ended was open for debate.
Doc took a tentative sip of the liquid, then another. He smiled and lowered his face into the remainder of the water in his hands, washing his face and eyes. He leaned back and gave out a lengthy exhalation of relief.
“Cool and wet, my friend, cool and wet.” Doc took out his swallow”s-eye kerchief and dipped it into the water, soaking the fabric and then wringing out the excess moisture.
“Real or fake?” J.B. asked Doc.
“What? This water? Real as it gets!” Doc replied.
“No, the river. Natural or man-made?”
Doc pondered the query for a second. “I am perplexed, John Barrymore. In the scheme of all things great and small, does it really matter?”
“Guess not,” J.B. replied. “Just wondering.”
“I question my sanity at moments such as these,” Doc said, placing the damp rag on his neck beneath the collar of his frock coat. “In the midst of a steady, warm rain, I am trying to ease my discomfort with the touch of more water. Such is the logic of Deathlands.”