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“Do you hear that?” Chernobyl says. We’re still sitting on the rock, looking at the river. It hasn’t been that long.
“What?” I snap. All my instincts are telling me there’s a deeper rhythm here, something vitally important, and it’s bothering me like a sore muscle. I’d be able to figure it out if people would stop interrupting me.
“That buzzing noise.”
“I hear it too,” Captain Eight says.
Glaring at them, I realize they’re right. It’s a slow, building buzz, like distant thunder or a spectacular hard drive failure.
“Let’s get moving,” I say for no real reason except that the sound puts me on edge.
“Where?” Captain Eight says. “We’ve got no idea where we’re going, no idea where to go, and my ass is starting to chafe.”
“Why don’t we follow the river?” Chernobyl asks. “We’re bound to
