They needed somewhere remote. Preferably somewhere that would have been abandoned before the stillness even occurred.
Clare found the map under the radio and unfurled the well-worn paper. She frowned at the patches of brown and green. Dorran said he could keep circling as long as she needed, but Clare knew he was being more generous than he should. They couldn’t afford to waste fuel, but at the same time, they couldn’t sit still. She needed a destination.
If Beth did get out… where would she have spent the night?
Clare shook her head, trying to push the idea aside. She knew it was nothing but a desperate bid to escape her grief that made her imagine her sister’s safety, and she couldn’t lean on hypotheticals to make decisions for her and Dorran’s safety. It didn’t matter whether Beth might have driven towards the mountains or towards the river—
The river.
“I have an idea,” Clare said. “Turn right at this intersection.”
She did her best to navigate them away from anywhere that was likely to be choked: strip malls, business districts, and town centres. The area gradually became more closely packed as they moved towards the city’s outer suburbs. But Clare was leading them to one very specific location, a place she’d visited with Beth several times as a teenager.
“It should be somewhere close.” Clare squinted from the map to the street ahead. “Beth and I had a tradition. Twice a year, we spent the afternoon on a riverboat. The Adelaide. It runs tours along the river, but it always moored here, in Glenbrook.”
“A riverboat?” He sounded intrigued. “If it’s separated from the shore…”
“The hollows won’t be able to reach us.” Clare nodded, switching her attention from the map to the road. “Remember when they fell into the pond at Winterbourne? They thrashed, but they couldn’t swim. Unless these ones have learned somehow, the river should be moving too quickly for them to get close to the boat.” Clare indicated a turn, and Dorran took it.
“It’s a good plan.”
Clouds dulled the moon’s light, and the car’s single headlight didn’t show the road as clearly as she would have liked. Still, she thought she could recognise some of the businesses they passed. The town was old, its strip mall shabby and its houses leaning towards run-down, but at least the streets were wide. Dorran didn’t have any trouble getting around obstacles. Clare caught glimpses of the river through the buildings. Occasionally, twisted shapes darted between the houses, barely catching in their headlight.
Unlike the earlier stream they had forded, this one was naturally wide and slow-moving. She was crossing her fingers that the wider banks had contained the extra water, and that the flow would have started to slow as the melted snow washed out to sea.
She wasn’t disappointed. As they turned down a narrow street lined with weatherboard houses, Clare caught sight of an empty parking lot to their right. A brightly painted sign on the street corner advertised the Adelaide. A cartoon duck pointed down the lane, exclaiming, “Fun for the whole family!”
“Down there.” Clare leaned close to her window, hoping her instincts hadn’t led them to a dead end. She had faint memories of the boat’s timetable. On Sundays, the day the quiet zones had started overtaking the world, the Adelaide didn’t begin its tours until eleven in the morning. If she was right, it would have been close enough to the city that the area would have gone quiet before any passengers had the chance to board.
Dorran let the car slow as they neared the grassy river edge, and Clare grinned. The two-story boat was exactly where she’d hoped to find it, drifting at the end of a wide wooden pier. The Adelaide seemed to have survived the bad weather with minimal damage. White-and-blue paint sparkled in their headlight, and a bright-red paddle wheel stood out behind it like a cheerful marker.
Dorran parked the car facing the boat. Their headlight washed over the dark windows and open upper deck. Clare watched for any sign of movement inside, but it seemed vacant. There was activity behind them, though; through the mirrors, Clare could see hollows creeping out from between houses.
“What do you think?” she asked Dorran.
He flashed her a warm smile. “I think you are brilliant. This will be more secure than anything on land.”
“And it should have running water and heat.”
“I may never want to leave.” He glanced behind, towards the eyes that caught in the red backwash. “Gather anything you want to bring. I will use the horn to buy us some time, and we will run for it.”
Clare pulled her mask on and reached into the back seat. The riverboat should have most of what they would need to make their night comfortable, so Clare only brought things that would be in short supply: food, flashlights, their toiletries, the radio, and bedding. Then she picked up her own fire poker, as well as Dorran’s axe. “Ready.”
The hollows scattered as the horn blared through the still night air. They threw their doors open and leapt out. The pier wasn’t long. The riverboat’s side hung close to it, bumping against the wood with every gentle swell of the water, and Clare felt a spark of doubt as she searched for a way onboard. Normally, the boat had a ramp to climb up. But with the tour never started, the ramp hadn’t been deployed.
Dorran took it in stride. He didn’t slow down as he neared the end of the dock, but increased his speed and sprang for the railings. The river was engorged, and the boat floated
