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“Hey, man, I know you’re excited, but maybe not alert any zombies,” Boden chastened him.

“I’m sorry.” Garrison looked sheepish but couldn’t suppress his smile. “I can already see the steamboat. This might be amazing news!”

He burst into a jog, hurrying ahead. Boden cursed under his breath, then ran after Garrison, likely to ensure that he didn’t run headfirst into danger, and then Castor sprinted after them.

“What are you doing?” Polly called after her brother.

“I wanna see the boat!” Castor replied and kept on running.

Stella wasn’t about to run, and Max walked with her, so Serg and I lingered back with them. Lillian, Samara, and Polly were only a few steps in front of us, but eventually, Samara and Polly decided to run after the others.

By the time I reached the dock, Garrison had let out many more delighted squeals, and that had to be driving Boden insane.

At the end of the dock was a two-story boat with wrap around balconies on the top level, and large waterwheels in the back. It was filthy and weathered, so the white exterior appeared more like a dull gray. On the roof of the second level was another small, windowed room with a large smokestack on top.

On the side of the boat, painted in letters that had likely once been vibrant red but were now a washed out pink, was the boat’s name:S. S. Barbarabelle.

Garrison had apparently been inside the boat, and he rushed back out and leaned against the railing at the end of the ramp to wave at us with a manic grin on his face.

“This is incredible!” he shouted. “Absolutely incredible!”

“That a boat is still here?” I asked dubiously.

“Thatthisboat is here, and that I can get it to work.”

“What?” Lillian asked, echoing my skepticism. “Really?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’ll take some work, but yes!” Then he turned around and rushed back inside, calling for us to hurry.

It wasn’t until we made it up the ramp and onto the boat that Boden came out to meet us.

“What do you think?” I asked him.

“I don’t know shit about getting an old steamboat running, but Garrison seems optimistic,” Boden said. “I haven’t had a chance to check the place over, and everyone needs to be careful. There’s a huge dining room and kitchen and dozens of guest rooms, so there could be anything inside.”

He held the door open, and we all went in. It was less musty than I imagined, although there was definitely an undercurrent of dampness. It was also significantly more opulent than I anticipated. The walls were covered in dark mahogany, and the floors had plush carpets and expensive rugs. A circular sofa sat in the center of the lobby, covered in a lux brocade, and a baby grand piano sat nearby. Light from the windows caught on the crystals of the small, elegant chandelier, and cast rainbows on the grand oak staircase.

“Holy shit, it looks like the Titanic,” Serg said.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too, but I wasn’t going to say anything,” Boden agreed.

“That’s because the 1900s were just a fantastic time for boating,” Garrison said as he came out from around the staircase. “Around the same time, this was a booming logging community, and they used steamboats to travel and carry cargo up and down this river. The exterior and the engine room are nearreplicas of the exact steamboats that worked this river back then, complete with paddlewheels operated by burning either coal or wood.”

“Are you trying to claim that this swanky boat is a replica of a logging vessel?” Lillian asked as she gestured to the lavish trappings.

“No, of course not,” Garrison said with a laugh. “Only the exterior is related to the original working boats. All of this interior is the Louis XV style that was very popular among the luxury liners of the same era as the original steamboat was working. Most notably seen in the Titanic.

“This current boat was built about two years before the zombie virus appeared,” he went on. “It was meant to be a tourist draw with forty guest rooms and a grand dining hall, and it travelled up and down the old logging route on the Staulo River.”

“He read a lot of that off the wall.” Samara was sitting on the circular sofa, and she pointed to the giant painting of the S. S. Barbarabelle in its glory, and below that was a sign with small text. “But he did know some of that off the top of his head. He’s always been a boat nerd.”

“This boat will still run?” Serg asked.

“I think so, with your help,” Garrison said. “And then we can take it straight down the river to the waterfall beneath Emberwood. That could cut as much as 4-5 days off our trip.”

“Seriously?” Max asked, already excited about the prospect of Stella travelling quickly with ease.

I tended to believe that if something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. How had I not taught him that?