Kris tried a call on net and got only static. ''Nelly, do a radio search. Call anyone on net.''
Nelly reported a null search. ''Their batteries may be dead,'' Kris told Jose and the crew. ''Silence means nothing,'' she assured them. Why didn't it reassure her?
Now Nabil and Akuba on the bow brought out handheld lights. The rain seemed to slacken; in the growing gloom it could easily have been more a wish than reality. Still, they were a good hundred meters off when Nabil's beam settled on the waterlogged wreckage of a multistory building. Jose throttled back, and they approached it carefully. The top floor had been burned; a few of the larger timbers showed black above the water. Where the river's water lapped along the top floor, two skulls eyed them through empty sockets.
''Mother of God.'' Jose crossed himself and steered away.
''They said they'd burned the dead,'' Kris said. ''I guess that was where.''
''That's the old house, where the Andersons started fifty years ago. The main place should be over there,'' Jose said, pointing off to the left. Slowly, the boat headed in that direction. The rain came back; they almost rammed the first flooded outbuilding before they saw it. Water was halfway up its low walls. ''That's a cattle barn. Start looking for a fence,'' Jose ordered. Kris decided it was time to call home.
''Colonel Hancock, this is Ensign Longknife.'' Only static. Kris repeated herself with the same results. ''Nelly?''
''I estimate we are in the shadow of the cliffs,'' Nelly said. ''I cannot get a line of sight on the communications satellite from where we are.''
''In this dark, I am not taking us out where the current can get us,'' Jose said before Kris could say a word.
''I wasn't going to ask,'' Kris assured him.
''We're at the fence,'' Mick called from the bow.
Jose steered right. ''I think there's a gate somewhere around here. I'm cutting the engine. Get ready to pole.'' They found a hole in the fence before they found any gate. Once through, Jose headed into the dark. The lights picked up more flooded buildings. The boat bumped against things hidden in the water; again, Jose cut the motor, and they poled. When the next break in the rain gave them a good look around, they were in the middle of the farmyard. Houses, barns, other outbuildings surrounded them, all flooded. No lights showed.
''They've got to be around here somewhere,'' Kris frowned.
Jose frowned, too. ''There's a couple of hay barns, closer to the cliffs. One or two houses there, too.'' He pointed to the right, and they poled in that direction. Once past the last barn, and the fence that began at its edge, the current picked up, and the poling got harder. Jose reached to start the motor.
''Wait a second,'' Kris called. ''You hear that?'' The sound of rain and the river made it hard to hear anything. But as the silence stretched and the crew held its collective breath, the dull roar became more insistent.
''The falls.'' Jose sighed. ''It must be real bad to make that much noise. But we aren't going to get anywhere against this current by poling.'' He flipped the engine on, but kept his speed very slow. The land they passed over must have been rolling at better times. Here and there a few bedraggled cows stood on small islands or wallowed in mud up to their utters. They passed a tiny herd that must have taken shelter on a lower island. As miserable as the cows appeared, they must have been the pampered survivors, some optimist's hope that he could save enough to start a new herd when the rains stopped. Now the water was up to the shoulders of this remnant; they lowed pitifully as the helpless humans passed them.
''There's not going to be anything left of us,'' Nabil muttered to Akuba.
''There's something up ahead. Looks like a fire,'' Olaf shouted from his station on the bow. Jose cut the engine. It took them a while to separate out the sounds of the rain and roar of the river, but there are few things sweeter than the sound of a human voice. Olaf cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in his booming baritone, ''Ahoy the ranch.''
On the third shout he got an answer. ''What bloody ranch? And who are you? I got a rifle.''
''Jose,'' their captain shouted back, ''with a boat full of medicine and food. You want me to land or keep going?''
''We can probably find you a place to tie up for the night, if you got the rope.''
''I got the rope. You got a tree?''
''Nope, but if you got food, I'll hold the bleeding rope all night.'' Six figures slowly materialized out of the mist. One held up a hand, and Olaf tossed him a rope. The six pulled with a will, and the boat glided up to a muddy landing.
''God, man, are we glad to see you. There any more boats?''
''Only this one. Where is everyone?'' Kris asked as she stepped over the side into mud up to her ankles.
''Some left before it got too bad. Some are sleeping cheek to jowl under what roofs we have. Some are out here, worrying. You heard our message?''
''We know about the Grearson fever. I got a corpsman here with the vaccine.'' Kris pointed at the medic as he clambered out of the boat, his two stuffed bags showing a Red Cross/Red Crescent/Red Star. Kris held out her hand to the man who'd been doing the talking. ''I'm Ensign Kris Longknife of the Society of Humanity Navy at your service.''
From somewhere in the fog Kris heard, ''We got a bloody Longknife all the hell and gone out here?'' but the handshake and smile that greeted her was friendly. ''Glad for anything you got,'' said a man with graying hair, wearing clothes that hung on him like there'd been a lot more to cover a year ago. ''I'm Sam Anderson. My pa started this ranch.'' He glanced around into the foggy dark as if seeing all there was and once had been. ''I guess I'll end it. Listen, how many can you get out on this boat? We got a couple of dozen sick, plus our old and kids. I figure before morning we're gonna have to start climbing the cliff. It would be nice to get the weakest out by boat.''
''How many do you have?'' Kris asked, getting back into the now-empty hull.
''Minus the three that died today, ninety-eight. Why?''
''Because this boat is a bit different from the average. What you see isn't necessarily what you get.'' Kris got the screen up and went through the original list. ''There's an option here for a river scow/motorized. Good for ferrying trucks up to ten thousand kilos. A hundred and ten people ought to fit. Fifteen meters by six meters. Thirty centimeters of free clearance at full load. Jose, you willing to take that out on the river?''
''Tomorrow. Not in the dark.''
''I'll do the conversion now just in case the river gets too high tonight.''
''Good idea,'' Sam said as Kris punched the conversion option. Even in the dark, the metal walls around Kris took on a gleaming appearance. The high prow began to settle, the sides rolled away as the boat widened from three meters to six.
Then the entire structure of the boat collapsed onto the ground. For a second, Kris thought this was just part of the process, but then flat sections of metal began to break up, mingle with the raindrops, and settle to the bottom of puddles. Kris grabbed a handful of control pillar as it began to come apart. Quickly, she stooped and scooped up a mixture of mud and liquid metal from a puddle with her other hand. In her palms, the metal formed globules like liquid mercury.
''What the hell?'' Kris gasped, along with similar expletives from those around her. She controlled the temptation to hurl the liquid metal on the ground. ''Quick, someone, get two of those vaccine bottles out of my pack. Empty the vaccine. I've got to store this crud.''
''But waste vaccine?'' Tommy asked, even as he got Kris's pack open.
''We've got vaccine for three hundred and only a hundred here. But I am going to know what just happened.''