James Axler – Watersleep

Doc had finally ventured out into the evening breeze, his feelings of nausea passing with the coming of night. He was wide-awake and restless, and since Jak and Krysty were below sleeping, their watches over, he really had no choice but to try to socialize.

The sky around the Patch was strikingly clear, the night open and beautiful, with a multitude of stars stretching out across the horizon. Ryan hadn’t seen such celestial beauty in a long time, not since the long summer nights in the mountains of his boyhood. Back then, he’d spent many an hour outdoors, the dew wet and cold beneath his bare feet, looking at the sky and trying to sort out the stars from the glowing lightning bugs.

Doc, taking strength from being revved up in full educator mode, had been challenging J.B. and Mil­dred to a friendly game of naming the constellations. Unlike the knowledge necessary to comprehend his numerous literary aspersions—the spouting of which put Doc in a class all by himself—both the physician and the Armorer knew a bit about the stars and the heavens. With J.B.’s eidetic memory, they were matching Doc constellation for constellation. Usually J.B.’s mental expertise only came into play when he used the minisextant to get a reading on their position, or when he was spouting out a series of specs for a piece of hardware.

Ryan knew they were enjoying giving Doc a run for the old man’s money. He hadn’t seen his old part­ner this happy in a long time.

Across from them, flat on his back in a swaying rope hammock with his hands behind his head, was Dean. For once, the boy was staying silent and not asking questions.

“Why aren’t you in there with Mildred and J.B. trying to stump Doc?” Ryan asked his son. “You falling asleep in that rigging?”

“Don’t know any constellations,” the boy said, turning his face skyward.

“Watch and learn, then,” Ryan replied. “Pretend you’re back in school.”

“Those days are over,” Dean said. “Triple glad to be back with you, Dad. Glad to have the excitement. Thought I’d go crazy sitting at a desk all day.”

“There’s more to life than roaming the countryside, and the world can change—never know when things come in handy,” the one-eyed man said. “Be­sides, if you know your stars, you can always get some kind of directional fix no matter where you are. That’s how J.B. does it at night when he doesn’t have the sun to go by.”

“J.B.’s got a sharp memory,” Dean grumbled.

“For some things. We can all remember stuff we want to,” Ryan said. “You remember Sharona, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said defensively. “She was my mom.”

“Remember what she looked like? What she liked to wear? What kinds of food she liked to eat, and how she took care of you?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, taking an interest now in where Ryan was going with this line of questioning.

“Think you’ll ever forget?”

“No. Not even when I’m chilled and gone.”

“There you go,” Ryan said, stepping away from the boy. “You hold things in your memory you need, or that mean something to you—or both. The stars might save your life, son. Keep it in mind, and learn.”

“Ah, my dear Ryan. Perhaps you would like to join our little competition?” Doc asked. “I am in need of a partner, since I am currently being double teamed by the good Dr. Wyeth and her friend who seems to know all of the answers.”

“I’ll pass, Doc. You seem to be holding your own, though.”

“So much has changed in my life,” Doc said to his companions as they looked heavenward, “But the stars have always remained.”

“Yeah, too bad you can’t recollect half their names,” Mildred retorted, the tiny beads in her plaited hair rattling as she moved her head. Still, the woman understood precisely what Doc was saying, and in many ways shared the same sense of loss.

Mildred was a time traveler of a different sort than Doc. Unlike the violent time trawling that had ripped Doc from the bosom of his family and career, she had undergone her one-way journey to Deathlands in an entirely different fashion.