James Axler – Watersleep

After the salads, ceramic bowls of a pasty cornmeal soup with chicken broth were given to the diners. The soup was a filling and tasty appetizer that everyone lapped up. After the soup was gone, the table was presented with a platter of white fish in tomato sauce, with finely chopped onion, garlic, parsley and sea kelp. The many natural additives gave the fish a spicy flavor that Mildred commented on as reminding her of a favored aunt’s cooking.

Shauna told the doctor all of the food was grown on the commune, and the spice she was tasting was undoubtedly coming from the fresh hot chili pepper that had been minced and added to the sauce for an extra kick, along with a smidgen of oregano.

“You speak with authority, madam. Sounds as though you know your way around a kitchen,” Doc told his hostess.

“This is my recipe,” Shauna replied. “And we have a few here who fancy themselves as chefs.”

“You may present them with my highest compli­ments,” Doc said. “I have paid ample tender in the past for food from restaurants that claimed to be eat­eries that were not even close to the flavor of this repast.”

“That means he likes it,” J.B. translated.

The fish beneath the sauce was boneless, fine and flaky, and the many pounds brought out quickly disappeared. The left over tomato sauce was scopped up with chunks of coarse corn bread torn in hunks from the round loaves. The bread tasted gritty, with hints of honey and molasses, and washed down easily with more of the sweetened ice tea.

For dessert, metal trays of steaming peach cobbler were brought out and dished up. Extra helpings would have been taken without hesitation, but the cobbler was such a hit there was barely enough to go around.

“Most scrumptious,” Doc said.

No one could have put it better.

WHEN THE TABLES WERE cleared, as promised, there was entertainment.

Ryan begged off, citing lack of sleep and exhaus­tion, when all those close to him knew it was because he was still grieving for Krysty. They shared his grief while respecting his privacy. Ryan would socialize more with their benefactors—as well as his com­rades—when ready.

Grateful to their rescuers, the rest of the group ac­cepted the invitation and soon joined dozens of other members of the commune on blankets around a cen­tral elevated platform. The platform had a half roof for protection and used the natural amphitheater pro­vided by an upthrust mass of rock.

The companions were expecting live talent, per­haps a singer, or a band with simple string instru­ments, or even some sort of theatrical play with actors reciting poetry or scripted words while treading the boards of a makeshift stage. From what they had seen, the commune seemed to be as low tech as one might expect, with oil lamps and torches for light and open fires for cooking.

“I hope it’s not a storyteller,” J.B. moaned sleep­ily. “I hate those long-winded stupes.”

“Oral traditions have been a part of mankind since he first learned to stand upright, John Barrymore.” Doc admonished. “Before the advent of written lan­guage, the telling of stories was the only way of pre­serving culture from generation to generation.”

“Sounds more like tall tales and heaping mounds of crap to me,” J.B. said, stifling a yawn. “Truth tends to get distorted in the telling.”

“True enough, but hopefully they become enter­taining, as well.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. An honest to God boom box!” Mildred said, her voice tinged with delight.

“Looks like a comm device to me. A big one,” J.B. replied.

“It’s a radio, all right, John, but only a receiver. No two-way communication. You can’t use it to broadcast, only to pick up open signals sent out across the airwaves.”

“I know what a radio is, Millie,” J.B. said, sound­ing offended. “I just never saw one like that before.”

Shauna had brought out a rectangular black mon­strosity that was approximately four feet long and three feet high. Most of the “radio” was taken up by speaker capacity, with two large grid-covered sections on either end, and two smaller speakers in the upper corners. The front was slotted for the playing and re­cording of cassette tapes, while on top of the device was a concave indentation with a flip-top door where compact discs could be inserted. Various silver but­tons lined the radio’s front center section beneath the door for the cassette player.