War World X: Takeover by John F. Carr Page B

the bill for a few more boats. It would be a damn-sight cheaper than building roads around the valley, even after the CoDominium took over.
    The T-day ended with dim-dark descending. Makhno scanned the shore, found no settlements close, shut off the engine and put out the anchor. The miner emptied out the chamber-pots, washed his hands with what smelled like rotgut whiskey, pulled a wrapped sandwich out of the basket he’d brought with him, and ate silently. Sanchez had no choice but to copy him as the captain seemed to be doing. When Makhno finished, rolled up in a foil-and-plastic blanket and stretched out to sleep, the miner pulled out a battered old tin flute and began playing it. Sanchez fell asleep to the notes of what sounded like Danny Boy echoing across the water.
    He woke at the sound of the engine starting, raised his head and saw the miner put away his tin-whistle and wrap himself up in a blanket.
    “Stay awake,” the captain said, obviously meaning Sanchez. “I’ll make as good speed as I can, but I’ll need you to help scan the river. Some creatures come close to surface during dim-dark, and we’ll need to watch for them. And that’s not counting tree-snags fallen in from the bank.”
    Sanchez duly watched, noting that the raft was moving at half-speed now. He also noted that the captain steered away from certain long barrel-like waves that rolled across the water. “What are those—” he started to ask.
    Makhno cut him off. “Don’t distract me,” he snapped, peering at the water ahead. “Just sing out if you see anything approaching from either side.”
    The next several hours were tense, wet, cold and nerve-wracking. Only twice did Sanchez actually see what the captain was dodging: once the crown of a half-submerged tree, once a snakelike head rearing out of the water several meters off. The miner slept like a log through the maneuvering, and Sanchez wondered how he managed. Half a dozen times he saw small docks along the bank, leading to roads that were barely openings in the forest wall. Makhno didn’t stop at any of them, but drove his meandering course onward down the river.
    Finally, on a completely isolated stretch of the river, the captain cut the engine and tossed out the anchor. The miner promptly woke up, yawned, stretched and reached for his basket again. Sanchez gratefully made use of the chamber-pot, dumped it and rinsed the pot quickly in the water. He was obliged to ask the miner for the use of his rotgut hand-washing fluid before he dared open his own satchel and bring out a thermos bottle and a pair of Fleet-issue ration-bars. Makhno pulled a hefty sandwich out of his own basket, and kept scanning the river as he ate.
    “If we don’t reach Chang’s landing before Full-Dark,” he commented, “We’ll have to spend it on the water. That won’t be fun, but it’s safer than being on land without a roof and walls.”
    “Why aren’t there more fueling stops along the river?” Sanchez wanted to know.
    “Bad harvests, nasty wildlife, robbers,” said Makhno with a shrug. “A lot of shimmer stone prospectors wind up broke and take to piracy. None of these settlements can survive on river trade alone; they have to farm and that’s a risky business. The mining companies have no interest in helping settlers.”
    The silent miner laughed.
    Makhno turned on the engine, and the Dragon sailed on.
    As Cat’s Eye set and the light grew steadily dimmer, Makhno piloted slower and slower. Sanchez noted odd ripplings on the water, and didn’t ask about them. Finally, as the last dim light stretched low across the water, Makhno turned off the engine and threw out the anchor. There was no landing, nor even a hint of a path through the forest, visible anywhere.
    “All right,” said the captain, pulling up a waterproof lantern. “We didn’t reach Chang’s, so we’re stuck here for the duration. I’m taking the first sleep-shift, so both of you stay awake and alert. If you hear