Read Online Watershed by Jane Abbott - Free Book Online Page A

still with ’em was all right in his book. Two kids actually, Daniel told him, and Rachel shuffled forwards, giving a brief glimpse of Ethan. Well, would you look at that? the man said, and smiled again.
    His name was Whitey, on account of his hair. Born that colour and it’d be a safe bet it’d be the same when he died, he said with some pride. He’d been alone a long time, wandering aimlessly like them, until a few months back when he’d come across a couple of men. Didn’t like the look of ’em much, he said, but they shared space for a bit and the two let slip ’bout this place they’d heard of. A few days later, Whitey set out to find it; he’d been walking ever since.
    He didn’t mention what had happened to the men, and no one asked. They were more interested in the rest of the story. What place?
    Whitey screwed up his eyes, as though deep in thought. Dunno, he said at last. All’s he knew it was northeast. Some kinda fortress they said; the town that wouldn’t die. The two men had heard it from some others who said the call had come out on a shortwave or somethin’. Coord’nates, must’ve been, ’cept the men didn’t know ’em. Keep goin’ ’til you reach the big water, they said, then up to the mountains and around. Helluva long way, but Whitey figured northeast was northeast. He’d find it sooner or later.
    What water? Daniel asked. There was no water. The sea was miles behind them surely? Whitey nodded and said: Yeah, but it’s moved in, hasn’t it? Found its way into all them low places. Just head northeast and they’d be sure to hit it. That’s all he knew.
    Daniel turned to Jon. Had he heard anything on that walkie-talkie of his? Jon would switch it on every now and then to scout for any trouble but, miserly with the weakening batteries, he never kept it going for long. Sarah wondered how many other things they’d missed. Now he shook his head and made his excuses: its range wasn’t that long, and did Daniel have any fucking idea how many channels there were?
    Whitey gave a snort. Channel wouldn’t matter any more; the call had gone out a long time ago. But there’d be others passin’ the message on, all’s they had to do was listen, he said. Then he cocked his head – in the dark, his white hair was a giveaway – and added that there weren’t no rush. Nothin’ was gunna get through this storm.
    They spent two days holed up with Whitey in the shed, keeping their movements to a minimum to conserve energy and water, and Sarah soon warmed to him. When he wasn’t swapping tales with the other men, he spent his time with her and Rachel, fascinated by the babies. Once, Sarah offered to let him hold Jeremiah and he took the child in his skeletal hands so gingerly, she laughed; Rachel wasn’t as trusting with Ethan. Whitey sat still, staring down at the child who stared up with equal interest. When Jeremiah’s small hand reached out to clutch a tangle of Whitey’s long hair, the old man smiled and whispered his name, over and over, Jeremiah, Jeremiah, Jeremiah, so it became almost a poem. After finally returning the baby, he stared at Sarah long and hard, and said: You make it to that fortress, hear? For the boy’s sake. But go careful. Coz we ain’t the only ones lookin’ for it.
    On the third morning, she woke to find him gone. The storm had blown over during the night and Whitey had disappeared with it, taking his broken shotgun with him. She never knew if he made it to the Citadel or not; she didn’t see him again. But she never forgot him.

    Mirage. Mir-raj . Too beautiful a word, she thought, for something so cruel. The dance of haze that beckoned and tempted and lured them forwards, promising hope: Whitey’s big water. But every dune and every flat proved false, spindles of trees and other wreckage materialising from nothing, the