Dead Water Zone by Kenneth Oppel Page B

directions at once, soft, strengthening, then fading.
    Paul gazed anxiously into the impenetrable mist. “Is it safe out here?”
    “Where is it safe for us? You tell me and I’ll take us there. Cityweb’s probably paid off everyone in Watertown by now. They want us dead, Paul!”
    “What they really want is the diskette. They think it’ll lead them to Sam.”
    “Your brother found out some secret and they don’t want anyone to know about it. Whatever it is, it’s worth killing people for.”
    “We’ve got to get to Sam first.”
    Monica turned away from him. “You can get out of this, you know.” She spoke quickly, as if trying to convince herself. “I could dump you in the docklands. You could catch a train back to where you came from.”
    Escape: leave everything behind. Watertown. Cityweb. Sam. Forget it all.
    “It’s impossible,” he told her softly.
    “It’s out of our control!”
    “I’ve got to find him.”
    “Your brother’s made his choice,” she said fiercely. “You don’t owe him anything! It’s stupid, thinking that way! Why do you have to take these risks for him?”
    “Because I’m nothing without him!” The words welled up from deep inside him, unbidden—his brother’s words, traveling across time.
    Monica was staring at him, her body tensed with the force of his voice. He was breathing hard, as if he’d just done fifty push-ups. He looked away from her, into the mist.
    “After I set him up, I thought it would be a relief when he went to college. But the guilt didn’t go away. And I missed him, bad. When I was working out, I’d wonder what the point was. There was nobody to look after. I felt like an obsolete piece of machinery. You know how people lose an arm ora leg and still feel pain in that empty space? That’s what it was like, having him gone.”
    He knew now what had driven him to Watertown. Not worry, not guilt. It was need. He needed Sam.
    She nodded slowly and for a few moments said nothing. Then, “Do you think she’s in there, too? My mother?”
    “I don’t know,” he said carefully. “Maybe.”
    “I’m not sure how to get inside. It’s all bricks and boards and iron gates. We’ll need some pretty heavy tools.”
    He touched her arm. “Thanks.”
    She sniffed the air suddenly and turned to the back of the boat. “Piece of garbage,” she muttered in disgust. “Should have known the damn thing would seize up! Look!”
    Paul turned with her to see a few tendrils of black smoke coming through the planking. Monica shut the engine down and yanked open the hatch, leaning back as dense fumes ballooned into the night air.
    “This is not a good place to be dead in the water,” she said grimly. “Get the tools.”
    He hefted out the toolbox. Monica was already lowering herself into the hatch, coughing away the smoke. A foghorn blasted nearby, and Paul could make out a huge cliff of metal slidingslowly through the mist. It wasn’t coming toward them, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before one did.
    “How’s it going?” he asked after a few minutes.
    “Not good. There’s parts all melted together.”
    “You can do it.”
    “No.” She hauled herself out of the hatch. “It’s fried.”
    “You’re giving up?”
    She offered him the hammer. “You want to try?”
    “We’re going to get rammed if we stay out here!”
    The mist swirled around the cabin cruiser, then opened to reveal the shape of a small motorboat drifting toward them. He half raised his arm to wave it off, but Monica stopped him.
    “That’s the boat I saw at Ganymede Reach.”
    It glided closer. Paul could make out two figures on board. “Cityweb,” he said, helpless.
    “No,” she said. “Armitage. And Decks.”

10
    “Y OU SNAKE !” spat Monica as the motorboat came alongside. Armitage tried to grab hold of the railing, but Monica kicked his hands away.
    “Listen to me!” he yelled up at her. “This isn’t my fault!”
    For a few seconds Paul could only stare, the