Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [33]
Monica looked down at the bottom of the boat. “This is important to me, Armitage. Understand, please.”
“No, I don’t understand,” he snapped angrily, but Paul thought he heard his voice quaver. “I was trying to hold things together, and she was off wandering, looking for the perfect fix. She didn’t care. But I cared, and now everything’s coming apart!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Really, I am.”
But Armitage just glared ahead into the mist, steering them back to Watertown.
“You’ll show us, won’t you, Decks?” Monica asked.
“If that’s what it really takes to bury this, I’ll take you both in,” said Decks grimly. He turned to Paul. “You may find your brother, but I’m warning you—you won’t recognize what he’s become.”
11
WITH A RUSTY SHRIEK, the gate swung slowly back.
Long strands of bulbous green weed trailed from the huge pilings, fanning out across the dark water. The jagged ends of dock spikes bristled from the cross timbers, impaling the gloom. Paul grimaced as the pungent smell of oil and rot wafted over him. There was about five feet of clearance, he guessed, between the water and the underside of the planking above. He looked dubiously at Monica and took a deep breath—so this was the way inside.
Decks had guided them into the heart of Watertown through a maze of canals, some so narrow that the dinghy had caught against the sides. The mist had started to brighten as they’d glided into the moat, using the oars to skirt around the wood and metal ramparts of Rat Castle. When Decks brought the boat to a halt, he brushed his hands over a section of wall, scraping away debris with his fingernails until he’d exposed a keyhole.
“Stay with the boat,” he told Armitage now, as he pushed a ring of keys back into a pocket. “Take it into one of the canals for shelter if need be, but for heaven’s sake, keep an eye out for us. Now, steady the boat for me.”
The wiry man crouched in the dinghy, then stepped quickly into the opening. Paul followed, easing himself onto a narrow crossbeam, hunched over. The wood was slippery, carpeted with lake fungus, and his hands reached out for balance.
“Hey,” he heard Armitage whisper behind him. “Hope you find your brother.”
Paul looked awkwardly back over his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
Armitage’s gaze shifted uncertainly to his sister. It seemed to Paul that he was about to say something, but in the end, he only mumbled, “Be careful, okay?”
Paul shuffled along the beam to make room for Monica.
She stepped lightly from the boat, hardly rocking it at all. He extended his hand to her and was grateful that she took it, even though she didn’t need his help. She smiled at him, but it was forced, her eyes dark and secretive.
Up ahead, Decks was gesturing to them to hurry up. Cautiously Paul moved forward. The timbers groaned ominously, only inches above the water.
“There used to be houses lining this pier,” said Decks in a muted voice, jabbing a finger upward. “Not like the shacks you see most places in Watertown now. Some of these houses were quite grand. My family certainly had its day. But even when I was young, this place was well on its way to ruin. The last time I saw David, he’d left the family home altogether and moved back onto the ship.”
“Ship?”
“The last of the convict hulks.”
“But I thought they’d all sunk!” said Monica. “Years ago!”
Decks shook his head. “David had this one hauled out onto one of the docks. That must have been almost thirty years ago. He wanted it preserved, like a museum piece, so we wouldn’t forget our heritage. When I was last here though, part of the dock had collapsed, and the ship’s stern was slumped in the water. Could be that it’s slipped back completely by now. We’ll see.”
Paul followed Decks through the decaying latticework of beams, trying to match the wiry man’s footsteps. But his feet slithered on the timbers, and twice he lost his balance and nearly plunged a flailing hand onto one of the spikes. His neck ached from hunching