My stomach did a backflip and for one second my whole vision went black.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s just get the heck out of Gentlesburg.”

“I’ll give an amen to that,” said Tally. She finished untying the skiff, and we floated off, Tally rowing until the current could grab us and drag us onward. A river of clouds crossed the sky, heat lightning flickering far off. The moon was nothing but a ghost in the clouds above me, the stars lonesome notes from an old forgotten song.

It was like I could hear them sing, those stars. It was like the moon was the conductor and the rivers and waters and oceans of the world were all hollering out, the trees too, singing every far-off note the stars wrote in the sky.

“That’s just the venom working itself out your system,” said Tally.

Well that was something, wasn’t it? I hadn’t even known I was speaking out loud.

9

WE FLOATED DOWN THE RIVER, following that slow and steady tug swampward. Tally kept the skiff straight, rowing when we needed, but mostly the river did the work. It struck me then that water is the most powerful thing, just like Pop said, water running like blood to the heart of the earth. But what about love then? Mom believed love was more powerful, didn’t she? Who would win in a contest, water or love, that’s what I wanted to know.

Tally dipped her hand into the river and then laid it on my forehead. It felt cool in the night air, it felt like healing. “You just rest up now. We’ll be in the swamp in no time.”

I slept then, I think. Or maybe I just dreamed. Fever will do that to you, make you dream with your eyes open, cast your thoughts big and loud up in the sky above. I saw monkeys dangling in the trees, their eyes red as fire, speaking in tongues like at a tent revival. I saw clouds like warships, big sixteen-sailed battle boats armed with cannons and blood-starved pirates ready to burn and plunder. I saw the ghosts of old women wash their dark hair in the river. They had no eyes, just empty black sockets, and they smiled at me like sad friends at a funeral. The trees began to lean in closer, to dangle their gray scraggly beards like old wizards peering down at us. Snakes slithered across the water like miracles, and there were all manner of bugs—biting sucking buzzing bugs, bugs everywhere. The swamp was alive tonight, don’t you doubt that. The swamp was so full of life I couldn’t see how there was any room for us, for me and my new pal Tally to fit.

“Hush up now,” she said, “just rest.”

And I did, I fell right to sleep.

I woke up here and there, in fits and starts. Once when the moon was high I woke and nearly yelped out. Tally was in her full spider face, hunching up in the boat, all six eyes awake and watching. Around us flashed gold and silver lights that would blink and vanish, as if beckoning us to follow.