Prologue
One thing’s for sure! Well, at least, we think it’s for sure: We’re all losing it.
It could have been that car accident. Or something must be in that water.
—Sincerely, the Townspeople of Sierra
Prologue
THERE IS A snake-like river that bleeds into the vast Gulf of Mississippi. The little sliver of water is often forgotten about, as visitors and residents flock instead to the crystal-clear beaches of the Florida Panhandle to catch a glimpse of the turqouise sea. This river is like a single hair rushing into a beautiful oasis. Its origin is a small lake at the tip of the Georgia-Florida border, and from that lake flows a creek first, and then a full-blooming river, our lovely subject. The water is relatively clear, and the rocks at the bottom are visible to those who lean down like Narcissus looking at his reflection. It is not as if that happens much, though. Riddler’s Creek teems with fish like a seafood restaurant. Just instead imagine your fish are poisoned.
Riddler’s Creek is the primary water source for the town of Sierra, Florida, and has been since the 1970s. Drinking water, according to the experts, is bountiful and rich through the pipelines of Sierra’s underbelly.
“We’ve got great water,” say the townspeople. “We love our water. It doesn’t taste weird. It tastes great! Like Arctic springs!”
Unlike other towns, Sierra is not overly curious with its water supply. Testing has been done, but it is not like it is a big deal, not when most are concerned with surviving another work week in a town run by small business. Not many people take a cup of water from the sink and think, “This may be tainted.” Sierra has bigger problems.
Many problems. Social problems, you could say.
Water couldn’t possibly be one of them. Even if it were, it’s not like it would be that big a deal.
