he gave the rest to Barth.
Part Three
27
Wave Rider
The Otterfolk enjoy boat rides. We want to try a mixed crew.
-William Granger, Xenobiology
Jeremy Winslow had shaped a reclining chair for himself out of sand.
Out beyond the waves, blue and white water sparkled and flashed. A tiny pale shape bobbed up and down. Chloe was sitting on a board with her back to Jeremy, surrounded by small dark shell-topped heads.
It was off season. Wave Rider's clientele might think that they came for the Otterfolk. hut they came for each other's company too. When a caravan wasn't in, nobody else came either. The folk who tended Wave Rider could all relax a little.
Only a little. Entropy ran fast at the shoreline, and Barbara Barenblatt had brought a large family: a husband, four young children, and a sister doubling as baby-sitter, all in the three-back suite. Barry and Brenda were cleaning it up while they were out; Brenda's husband, Lloyd, had gone yesterday for supplies, and he'd seen Karen tending a cauldron of Soup.
And Jeremy was nursing a twisted knee, hut it wouldn't keep him idle forever. He was shelling peas under a net to keep sand out. His hands moved without distracting him much.
Out beyond Chloe, the water humped. Chloe saw it. She was paddling, turning. Small heads popped up around her, a dozen, twenty. The hump in the ocean rolled toward her. Chloe paddled madly. Jeremy watched, nodding. Good, good, you're on, good, stand now.
She stood. The board slid down the water slope in a flurry of Otterfolk. when Chloe veered they all veered.
No surfboard ever hit an Otterfolk.
The wave was breaking, and she skimmed away under the falling water. Otterfolk got lost, or let the wave roll over them just for the hell of it. A few were almost keeping up.
She looked good, his sister-in-law. He'd taught her to ride these waves. He'd be riding again after his knee healed. At forty-seven years of age, he couldn't expect that to happen fast.
Behind him, not loud, Jeremy heard a metallic thump and a highpitched yzp.
A moment to realize how queer that sound was. Another to wait for the yell of reassurance that didn't come. Then he was hop-running uphill, cane stabbing sand, right arm windmilling for balance.
He saw Karen, and he bellowed, 'Barry! Brenda! Help!'
Karen had set the cauldron in a frame above the pit, in the sand below Wave Rider. The cauldron was on its side. He could see where chowder had spilled down Karen's right side, shoulder to hip and elbow.
'Barrbarrbarreee! Brenbrenbrendaaa!'
Her face was twisted in terror. Why wasn't she screaming? He shied from the answer: the nerves must have been seared lifeless. He got under Karen's shoulder, her left shoulder, just as she started to collapse. His own scream rose to incoherent agony as his knee buckled under her weight.
Brenda came running.
Jeremy was down on his knee, still supporting Karen. 'Don't touch her where she's burned! Get under her here, here where I am, okay?' He transferred his burden. Karen was moaning. She'd started to realize how bad it was. She wasn't able to stand.
'Get her up to the inn!' Jeremy limped uphill, up sixty meters of old wooden stairs, shouting every few steps. 'Barrbarrbarreee!'
'What?I was stowing meat and veggies.' Lloyd was back.
Good! 'Get ice! All the ice! Karen's been burned! Barrbarrbarreee!'
Lloyd disappeared.
Jeremy continued his hop-jump progress up the stairs from the beach, through Reception and into the kitchen. Lloyd had poured several pounds of ice over a towel in the sink. He rolled the towel up and rushed past Jeremy.
Brenda and Karen had reached the landing outside Reception. Karen was whimpering; her eyes rolled. A patch of skin on her upper arm had slipped. Lloyd and Brenda eased her down to the wood floor and settled the ice-filled towel across her. Jeremy slid a pillow under her knees.
Brenda asked, 'Did you call anyone?'
Call? 'Lloyd-' Phone?'No.'
Brenda ran inside.
Karen wanted to hold his hand. He told her, 'Don't worry. Brenda must be calling the City. What happened?'
'It was tipping over. I tried to stop it.'
'Should have called me.'
'No time. Your knee.'
'Someone.'
'I know.' Her eyes closed, her hand went slack.
He found Brenda in Reception talking to the settler-magic box in her hand. 'Karen Winslow. Wave Rider Inn. Got it?' The little projector behind the desk flashed white-on-blue print into the air and she said, 'Yes. I'm her daughter, Brenda Winslow, but she'll probably come in with Daddy, Jeremy Winslow. That's right-' The air blinked ruby script at her, and she frowned. 'Daddy? When were you born?'
'Twenty-seven eleven.' The truth. He didn't know a better answer.
'Where?'
'Skip it.''
'Haven on the Crab, I remember. Daddy, they're having trouble finding your credit references.'
Jeremy Winslow didn't answer. Brenda said, 'You came here, so you took Mom's name. Would they have your name from before?'
'I hope not.'
'Jeremy Hearst. Dad?'
'They won't find me.'
His daughter gave him a long, hard stare. Then she told the phone, 'Try Barry Winslow. Uncle Barry, Karen Winslow's brother.' The screen flashed. 'Yes, that's right. Daddy, see if you can find Uncle Barry!'
Jeremy hop-jumped away. He heard Brenda's voice continue behind him. 'Yes, I'll have him phone and give you a reference, but send an ambulance now. She's burned over half her body! When can we expect....'
Barry was up two flights of stairs, making dust. Jeremy had to go up after him. Wave Rider had a high noise level. You got to where you barely heard the crashing waves, but you couldn't hear someone shouting either,
Barry moved fast for his age. Jeremy followed him down slowly, favoring the knee that hadn't worked right since the surfing accident. When he was alone, he let his face have its way.
His face wanted a twitching, teeth-clenching rictus sardonicus. His hands wanted to tear the banister apart. What was he going to tell Brenda? Or, when he must, Karen?
Whatever he told his daughter, he'd have to tell them all. Barry and Chloe would demand to know what was up, and they weren't just his in-laws, they owned part of the restaurant. He didn't see his other children much.
Harlow? Earth, he would have liked to talk to her! His stepmother-in law hadn't quite got along with Harold's children. After Harold's death she'd sold them what she owned of Wave Rider, not quite of her own choice. She ran
