Dead Water Zone Read Online Free

body, still in motion after the long hours of traveling. He closed his eyes. Keep going through the steps.
    The call came five days ago, his brother’s voice wreathed in pay-phone static. They had talked awkwardly about everyday things. Then, in a sudden rush, Sam had told him he was in Watertown. He’d found something unusual in the water samples. No one else knew about it. He’d gone down himself to find out more. It was the only way. And then he said, “Something wonderful is going to happen.”
    Sam’s voice was unbalanced, almost fanatical. What do you mean? Paul had asked. What are youtalking about? But Sam was evasive. There was so much work to be done, he didn’t have time to be talking on the phone. Paul kept insisting on the meeting until Sam agreed.
    And he hadn’t even shown up. Okay, maybe he’d changed his mind. But why Jailer’s Pier? Impossible to find, completely deserted. Except for Monica. What was she doing there?
    He was too tired. His thoughts were exploding away from him, dissolving. Everything would be all right. Tomorrow morning he’d see Sam and all his questions would be answered.
----
    “How am I doing?” he panted.
    While Sam checked his math homework, Paul did push-ups.
    “Pretty good so far,” his brother answered. “Only a couple of mistakes, but they were tricky ones. I’ll pencil in the answers for you.”
    “Thanks. Word problems are the worst.”
    “How’d you do on your last test?”
    “Twenty-two out of thirty.”
    “Hey, better than last time.”
    Sam was already two grades ahead of him. He could bring Sam any math problem, and his brother would just look at it for a few seconds and then scribble away, explaining as he went. Paul could ask him questions on any subject, and ninetimes out of ten, Sam would have the answer on the tip of his tongue. People sometimes asked him if he got jealous, having a brother who was a genius, but he was proud of Sam. And happy enough with his own marks. “Good solid work,” one of his teachers had written on his report. Somehow it didn’t matter if he didn’t get brilliant marks, as long as Sam did. Marks were something they shared. Like Paul’s muscles.
    “Randy Smith was such a pain today,” Sam remarked. “Thanks for thumping him for me.”
    “I like thumping Smith,” Paul replied between push-ups. “If he hassles you again, we’ll give him a working over.”
    “How many push-ups are you doing?”
    “Fifty.”
    “The doctor gave me some new pills today.”
    “Yeah?”
    “They look like hamster food.”
    Paul couldn’t finish his last push-up, he was laughing so hard.
    “But they’re not as big as the last ones. I could hardly get those in my mouth! She says these should help me put on weight.”
    “They’ll work,” Paul answered confidently. “Pretty soon you’ll be pumping iron, lifting cars, small buildings.”
    Sam chuckled. “I think I am getting stronger.Last time we arm wrestled, I held out longer, didn’t I?”
    “You did,” he said—convincingly, he hoped. The truth was, Sam seemed just the same, every time. Paul had to be very careful not to twist his pipe-cleaner wrist.
    “When’s your next track competition?”
    “End of the month.”
    “Show me your muscles.”
    Paul stood and flexed his bare arms, watching his biceps harden, the veins swell. He liked doing this for Sam. To the right of his brother, he could see his own reflection in the mirror. But he must have stood up too quickly. For just a moment, as he glanced from Sam to the reflection and back, it seemed that his brother’s head rested atop his muscular shoulders and his own body was suddenly frail and wizened.
----
    He couldn’t sleep. He was all wound up. With a sigh, he angled his watch face to the moonlight: 2:18. He stood, pacing the room, trying to relax. At the window he paused: a clear sky littered with stars and a half-moon reflected brilliantly in the black lake water. Someone was there, on the pier.
    Monica. Her long