It was a logical thought. Things flowed upstream. And that meant that if the boy....had washed up there...he might be there. Shawn found himself unavoidably thinking of what that might mean when and if he found the boy. The boy he remembered had had blonde hair and a backwards hat and spoke with a French-like accent.
Heading past the metro car, Shawn saw the loud water flowing. He followed the stream and the current smoothed out. Finding himself walking along-side the water, the cement becoming more clear, hardened--the sewer taking on a constructed, organized appearance. Shawn adjusted his nose, the foul smell becoming more normal.
Then, in the distance he saw a swollen, lump floating against a grate, the rushing water passing through it. It looked like a body. But a terribly inflated one. Shawn couldn't reach it from this perspective. And there was nothing around to drag the body closer.
Now the smell was terrible. A powerful, pungent, disgusting odor that was like a garbage can left to ferment in high heat for an extended period of time.