Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [25]
I can’t be interrupted now. I’m not finished yet. I’ve grown much thinner, much stronger and quicker, but that’s become almost insignificant. There’s something much more important to be done. But first I have to keep taking it into me. And I must find out where the primary source is.
Day 7
I go out only at night now. Daylight hurts my eyes. Too much stimulus. I can travel across Watertown alone, soaring across rooftops like a dream. I never knew that the light changes throughout the night, the spin of the moon and stars. You can hear more clearly, too. Always the sound of the boats, night crews on deck handling metal and rope, voices drifting. I have listened to fish beneath the water’s surface, insects sleeping, the sound of the mist gathering in the night.
“So, it was Sam,” Paul whispered. But why had he appeared, only to run away? Twice. Why hadn’t he stayed to explain? And the inevitable conclusion: he didn’t want to see me.
Day 8
I think I’ve found the source.
Wandering deeper into Watertown, taking samples, I found a wide canal that encircles a kind of citadel island. The dead water is more potent here. The surrounding area seems deserted. Why?
I’m worried the helicopter men will track me to the boathouse if I wait any longer. I need somewhere safe to carry on the rest of my experiment undisturbed. It’s time to move on. I’m certain the source lies beyond that canal.
Paul hammered at the keyboard, but he’d reached the end. There were no more words.
“Rat Castle,” said Monica, in amazement. “No wonder Mom wandered around there. She must have been drinking from that damn canal.”
“Sam’s in there.”
“But Decks said—”
“Decks was wrong.”
“She might be there, too, then,” said Monica quietly. “With that much dead water in her, she could have jumped right across.”
Paul stood up quickly. “We’ve got to go there.”
Monica took a deep breath. “No. Not yet. It’s too dangerous.”
“But we’re wasting time!”
“Paul, I want to go, too. But it’s still light out. At nightfall Armitage’ll come and tell us what’s happening with Cityweb.”
“Sam hates his body! He’d do anything to change it, even if it might kill him.” He faltered for a moment. “Because he knows he’s going to die anyway.”
“But why?”
“It’s part of his condition. They say he’ll only live another twelve years maximum, probably less.”
“Oh.” She seemed to draw into herself, then said bitterly, “So he thinks he can heal himself with the water.”
Paul nodded. “When he called me, he was scared. I think he wanted me to come here and stop him. Why else would he have called? I owe him this.” He studied her face, suddenly needing to tell her. “I let him down.”
“How?”
“The stupidest thing I’ve ever done. We weren’t the same afterward. And then he left for college and it still wasn’t fixed. Isn’t.”
“Tell me.”
* * *
“Lick it up,” Randy Smith said.
Pinned to the ground, Sam just stared back.
“Make him lick it up!” Randy shouted. Gavin and Peter grabbed Sam by the hair and forced his face toward the glistening puddle of Randy’s saliva.
“Randy, come on!” Paul shouted, but they held him tight.
“Shut up and watch.” Randy grinned. “This is for your viewing pleasure.”
They’d been ambushed on their way home from school. They’d been taking the secret route through the park for months, but Randy had found out and was waiting with a whole bunch of his friends.
Peter and Gavin dragged Sam’s face into the spittle, but his lips were clamped tight. He tried to raise a hand to wipe his cheek, but they restrained him.
Randy prodded him in the ribs with his sneaker. “Forget it,” he said. “We like you like this. Don’t you think it suits him?” he asked the crowd. Laughter.
Paul looked around in revulsion. “That’s enough!”
Randy looked at him with interest. “You love it, Paul. Admit it, you love seeing this.”
Paul caught his brother’s eye, but