James Axler – Watersleep

“Very well, Dr. Wyeth. As I was saying, the truth behind our unseen foe lies in the name he has chosen for himself. For one who has his origins in the sea, and continues to attempt to dominate his own little kingdom, the name of Poseidon is an inspired selec­tion.”

“How so?” Ryan asked, his own interest now spurred by Doc’s comments.

“Greek mythology, sir,” Doc said, propping him­self up on an elbow as best he could without falling out of the flimsy folding cot, “the timeless tales of the ancient gods and the human heroes who tried vainly to live up to the examples set by their masters. Unfortunately for all of humanity, the gods, too, were as flawed as their human creations.”

“Always wondered why everything was so screwed up,” J.B. said.

“Poseidon was lord of the sea, and friend enough to man to present him with the first equine.”

“First what?” Shauna said, frowning.

“First horse,” Mildred translated. “Try and keep the florid speech patterns down to a level where we can all understand it, okay, Doc?”

“Of course, of course. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Poseidon was also brother to the mighty Zeus, the supreme ruler of all, and second only to him in emi­nence. Zeus was the storm bringer, ruler of the sky and master of the terrible thunderbolt. Poseidon’s do­main was nearly as great. His domain was the sea, and when he was not inhabiting the halls of grand Olympus with his brothers, Poseidon could be found below the waves in a magnificent palace of his own design.”

“Sounds like the Admiral. He’s always on or near or under the water somehow.”

“Like Zeus, Poseidon was also a master of the storm, but only those at sea.”

The memory of the storm and the subsequent ac­cident was fresh in all of their minds.

Doc continued. “He carried a mighty trident, a three-pronged spear, with which he would shake and shatter whatever he pleased. In fact, Poseidon was commonly called ‘Earth-Shaker.'”

“Lesson’s over,” Carter said. “The way they’re waving in back, the food’s ready.”

A dinner bell was rung soon after, summoning all to dinner. The other members of the commune, which seemed to consist of less than one hundred total, were mostly women with a small mix of children ranging from eight to about Dean’s age. A few elderly folk were also in the count Ryan silently made. He noted the lack of men of any age. All of them were starting to mill about and take seats at the wooden picnic ta­bles in the tent.

“We’ll all eat, and you can enjoy tonight’s enter­tainment. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Shauna said. “For now, you are our guests.”

The meal that was being laid out before them was the first real solid nutrition any of the travelers had eaten since the visit to Tuckey’s.

The feast began with the placement of a single tall plastic tumbler on the table at the hand of each diner. After the glasses were down, two women in the fa­miliar jumpsuits walked down either side of the aisles with carts that bore large clear pitchers filled with an icy-cold brown liquid. The cold was a given since drops of condensation were beading the pitchers’ ex­teriors.

Each cup was filled to the top with the liquid, and the remainder of the pitcher left at the table.

Mildred and Doc, recognizing the beverage, both responded by grabbing the plastic glasses and taking generous gulps.

“By the Three Kennedys—” Doc began.

“Ice tea!” Mildred finished.

The rest of Ryan’s party followed suit, drinking greedily from the glasses.

“We believe in maintaining some of the old South­ern traditions down here,” Shauna said.

“Where’d you get the ice?” Dean asked. “You got a generator for a freezer?”

“Of a sort. We harvest wind power for irrigation and electricity. We have a shed with electric lights, and some outlets to run refrigerators and freezers for storage.”

As the tea was being consumed, simple fresh salads came around. In the huge bowls plopped down at each table were lettuce, chopped celery, sliced radishes, onions, tomato wedges, strips of green pepper and a few bits of cucumber. An oil-and-vinegar dressing was also presented in small glass bottles. Dean was the only holdout who passed on filling his plate from the bowl, but everyone else happily partook of the chance for real, fresh vegetables instead of something dried or in a can.