Jessica did not want to start at the nuclear plant and built upstream. In such a structure there was the possibility that the weight of the structure would actually increase the water pressure on the buildings. Rather, in building something this unprecedented, Jessica had chosen to emulate the technique of the North American beaver. The upstream part of a beaver dam was built first, and the rest filled in afterward.
Jessica would build a solid breakwater upstream from the plant, a huge tangle of pipes, timber, wire, and earthquake debris. As with a beaver dam, the pressure of the river would eventually wedge everything into a solid position. Once this was constructed, she would backfill toward the power plant, eventually engulfing its structures.
No sooner had the Super Jolly cleared the area, moving much faster without its cargo, than another copter appeared, this one a Super Stallion. Jessica had arranged a regular relay of big heavy-lift helicopters rolling in from the nearest rail-head in Jackson, where tons of earthquake debris were being moved by rail. Each Super Jolly could carry ten tons, but the big Super Stallions hauled sixteen tons each.
In a matter of days, a fair-sized island would have grown up around Poinsett Landing. Jessica felt a broad smile spreading across her face. “Isn’t it great!” she asked.
PART TWO
M6
TWENTY-TWO
I shall advise all those descending the river not to take the right hand of Island No. 38, as it appears entirely choked up with drift and rafts of sawyers. When through these bad places the worst is over, only fuller of snags, but mind well the directions in the Navigator and there will be no danger. Run the Grand Cut-off No. 55, in all stages of the water, and hug close the right hand point, this pass is good. Take the left of St. Francis No. 59, left of No. 62, right of large sand bar and Island No. 63, and right of No. 76, in all the different stages of the water. All these channels are much the best and safest. Should this be the means of saving one boat load of provisions to an industrious citizen, how amply shall I feel rewarded for noting this, whilst with gratitude I acknowledge the obligation we as boatmen are under to you for your useful guide, that excellent work The Ohio and Mississippi Navigator, much to be valued for its accuracy and geographical account of this immense country.
I have the honor to be, gentlemen, your sincere friend and humble servant.
Bored out of his mind, Jason strolled on the hatches of Beluthahatchie’s barges. Then he heard a yell, and turned to see one of the crew waving from the pilothouse.
“Hey, Jase! Your dad’s on the radio!”
Jason’s heart gave a lurch. He sprinted aft, jumping from one barge to the other until he clambered aboard the towboat and ran to the pilothouse. He grabbed the hand-set, raised it to his lips. He gasped for breath, spoke. “Dad?”
Jason’s heart hammered a half-dozen times before the answer came. “Jason?” His father’s intent voice.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’s me.”
“You’re still on the boat. The Beulath-something.”
“Beluthahatchie.”
“I’ve been trying to get through to you for days. All the marine radio operators are jammed up with thousands of messages…”
“Frank,” Una’s insistent voice, breaking in on another line. “Ask how he is.”
“I’m fine,” Jason said. “Got a little sunburned, that’s all.” There was another little pause. Jason realized that Frank and Una were still far away, maybe still in China.
“I was so sorry to hear about Catherine,” Una said.
Jason was silent. He couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Are you still in China?” he said finally.
Another pause. “Yes. In Guangzhong. If you’ll get a pen, I’ll give you the number of our hotel.” Despair floated through Jason as he jotted down the number. The least his father could have done was flown to the States.
“Are they treating you okay on the boat?” Frank Adams asked.
“Oh sure. Everyone’s been real nice. They’re letting me and Nick use their radio whenever we like.”
“Nick?” There was a flicker of intent interest in Frank’s voice. “Who is this Nick, exactly?” Jason wondered where to start. “He’s a refugee, Dad. I found him on the river.” He paused, then added,
“He’s about your age, I guess.” Trying to demonstrate that Nick was a responsible citizen, not someone who was going to lead him into trouble.
He knew better than to report that Nick was black, had been shot by a cop, and had been found in a tree. This would not boost his father’s confidence in his choice of traveling companion.
“And you traveled together,” Frank said.
“Yes. For a couple days. He’s been trying to get to his daughter in Arkansas.”
“And you were in a boat? Was this Nick’s boat?”
“Uh, no.”
So Jason had to explain about his neighbor’s bass boat, and how he’d used it to get off the Indian mound and gone down the river without meaning to. And met Nick the next morning.
“So you were on the boat for two days?”
“Well, not that boat. We got another boat later.” The memory of stranding Junior and his friend on the Lucky Magnolia was too wonderful to resist, so Jason told his father what happened, how he and Nick had found themselves on the casino boat with the two thieves, and how they’d stolen their powerboat.
“And Nick let you do this?” Frank Adams said. Jason was surprised by his father’s frigid tone.
“Well,” Jason said, “he didn’t stop me.”
“I can’t believe he put you in so much danger.”
Jason licked his lips, tried to get his thoughts in order. “He really didn’t have much to do with it, Dad.”
“Well, he should have.”
“This Nick doesn’t sound like a very responsible person,” said Una.
“He didn’t know,” Jason said, “that there were thieves on board.”
“He just let you walk into this danger?” Frank demanded. “Of all the stupid, thoughtless…”
“Nick’s really okay, Dad.”
“He is not okay.” Firmly. “I don’t know what the man was thinking of.”
“I—” Jason groped for words. “You’ve got it wrong, Dad.”
Frank went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Now where is this boat you’re on? This Beulah Hatchie, or whatever.”
“Well,” Jason said. “We’re somewhere south of Helena. But the boat’s aground on a sandbar at the moment.”
“It’s what?”
“But it’s okay,” Jason said. “It’s not sinking or anything. It’s just that the river changed, and—” Frank Adams snorted. “I don’t know how a river can change,” he said.
“If you were here,” Jason said, “you’d know.”