Unseen Messages(65)

“It will be enough for tonight. But tomorrow, we can all go and find lots more. How about that?”

Along with an armful of coconuts so we have additional liquid.

She pondered for a moment. “Can I find them with G?”

G.

My heart turned into a tambourine, shivering with a happy tune. “Of course. We’ll team up. You and G against Conner and me. We’ll have a race.”

“I’ll win.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” I tickled her tiny chest. “You’re the wonder gatherer. Clam extraordinaire.”

She giggled.

“Don’t tell her that.” Conner appeared with the two pieces of fuselage. They were almost as big as him. How he managed to cart them when running on dregs of energy and protecting his broken wrist, I didn’t know. “It will only go to her head.”

Pippa stuck out her tongue. “You’ll see. I’ll win. I’ll find all the clams and you won’t have any.”

Conner blew a kiss at his temperamental sister. “But you’ll share with me, right?”

She crossed her arms. “Nope.”

“Oh, come on, Pip. You have to.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You love me. You wouldn’t let me starve, would you?”

Galloway chuckled, following Conner with a lot less grace than he left with. His forehead glistened with sweat, his back rolled, and he hopped with a wince.

What the hell had he been doing?

Galloway muttered, “She won’t let you starve. Will you, Pippi?”

“Hey. You said you wouldn’t tell!” Pippa’s eyes glowed with indignation.

Galloway didn’t look well as he forced himself to act shocked and contrite. “Whoops, sorry. Oh well, your secret is out. But it’s safe with Estelle and Conner. Isn't it, guys?”

We all nodded. “Of course. Cross our hearts.”

Conner and I laughed as we both drew a cross on our chests at the same time.

Galloway attempted to chuckle but everything about him echoed agony. He looked worse than when I’d found him leaning against the palm tree with his broken ankle swollen and useless.

Leaving my post by the boiling clams, I moved toward him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t make eye contact. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, my God.” I snagged his free hand. “You’re bleeding.” Cuts marked his strong fingers. A nasty gash split his palm. “What were you doing?”

“Making something.”

“I doubt it was important enough to kill yourself over.” I counted five cuts on his left hand alone. “We’ll have to look after these.”

“Later. Let me go, woman.”

I had no choice but to follow him to the plastic-wrapped branches where Conner had dug out a small trough in the sand directly below the funnel. The plastic was tight with collected water.

My mouth begged at the thought of a glass of ice-cold H20

Galloway nodded in approval. “Great, now put the catchment down.”

Conner did as he was told, wedging the fuselage into position.

Once it was in place, I understood what they’d been doing. What the rhythmic banging had been. “You made that?”

Conner looked up. “Yep. Well, Galloway did.”

“How?”

“With a rock and a lot of elbow grease.” Galloway leaned heavily on his crutch. “Do the other one, Conner.”

Conner climbed to his feet and repeated the process, digging a hole to keep the trough upright and wedging the metal into position beneath the burgeoning funnel. The metal had transformed into a pockmarked container with sloping sides and a big enough surface area to hold litres of water. Our own personal reservoir.

Is it safe to drink out of metal from an aircraft?

Worry tainted my joy. Who knew what the metal was coated with or what nasty chemicals would seep into our water supply.

But like Galloway previously said, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ It was this or no water or cooking facilities.

I choose this.

Regardless of the consequences.

Once secure, Conner stood and Galloway held out his hand to me. “Swiss Army knife, please.”

I pulled the lifesaving tool from my short’s pocket. Pressing it into his palm, I suffered another electrical jolt as his fingers brushed mine.

He smiled (more like grimaced) in thanks and hopped toward the plastic. He cursed under his breath.

I stepped forward. “What’s up?”

He spun the knife in his grip. “To extract the water, I either have to unwrap the tree which would potentially lose a lot of liquid or cut the funnel and pour out the gathered supply. The only problem is once it’s cut, the water won’t gather as there’ll be an air gap.”

My mind raced with solutions.

I yanked off my second-to-last hair-tie from around my wrist. “Can you secure it with this?” I looked at the metal container below. “It doesn’t have to be strictly water tight, right? The droplets that escape will be caught.”

I didn’t mention the fact that the sun would dry up any liquid almost as fast as they dripped. Now was not the time.

Galloway said, “You’re right.”

“Great.” I passed the tie to him. “All yours.”