Mn

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The samples that Basil had collected indicated no trace of toxic chemicals above normal concentrations. Those tests couldn't be lying.

So...why did the river look so strange?

Basil drove along a road that ran beside the river. He kept glancing out the window at the water.

By now, he was several miles away from the location where he had collected his water samples. He couldn't shake away the impression that there was something odd about the water. Just looking at the water made him feel that something about it couldn't be right.

The water is unnaturally dark.

Rivers could be dark for any number of reasons. They could have excess algae. They could be very deep. They could contain all the mud washed into it from a landslide or a wet rains season. Dark water was never a good indication that rivers contained dangerous toxins.

Still, something about the water's dark colors seemed off.

Basil followed a bend in the road that led away from the river. He was now too far to be able to see the water clearly. The road would bring him back onto the highway, where he planned to take the closest route home.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Sunny wore a lifeless expression. The light in the pupil of his working eye had dimmed. Dark, weary circles colored both his eyes.

Basil hated seeing Sunny so inconsolable. He hated it so much that he had purposefully delayed telling Sunny the results of his tests until this morning.

Please cheer up, Sunny...

We'll get through this.

He had felt so disappointed upon seeing the initial results yesterday. Not wanting to believe them, he'd lied about the tests needing time to sit overnight to produce results. He had racked his brain thinking of a reason for why the tests didn't detect any toxic chemicals above normal levels. They could have just been unlucky, but even so...

Why did the water look so off?

Basil knew the color of water. He knew the way water flowed as it poured out of a watering can into a pot of flowers. He knew the texture of water, the way water played with light, and the gleam of scales as healthy fish swam a lively arc through a moving current of clear blue water.

I'm just not the best swimmer, he remarked sarcastically to himself.

That sarcasm brought a strange and familiar voice back inside his head.

"Watch out for bad water," grandma said.

Basil's breath stopped.

When did grandma say that?

"Watch out for bad water, Basil."

An image, a memory, crystallized.

He was seven or eight years old. Grandma was helping him water the plants. She picked up the watering can and let a slow stream pour out into the soil of a pot that held white egret orchids. After observing the soil filling with water for a couple of seconds, she suddenly stopped. She opened the lid of the can and stared at the water intensely.

"The water...? In this place...?"

Basil couldn't remember her exact words. She was saying something about the water, something being in the water. Her forehead was creased with concern.

"Grandma? What's wrong?"

"The water. I'm hoping it's not polluted," she had said something to that effect.

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