The Island(68)

“How deep do these roots go down?” Olivia asked.

“I don’t know. Many hundreds of feet? I’m not sure,” she said, looking at the mesa. Now Heather could hear the dogs.

She took out the binoculars and saw a red motorcycle.

A mile away.

“OK, forget the water, guys. We’re going to have to move.”

“I don’t think I can go much farther. My legs are cramping,” Owen said.

“I know, sweetie, but we’ve got to go.”

There wasn’t much fight left in any of them. They’d had no food for two days. Hardly any water. The sun still had four or five hours to go before it sank into the mainland.

Or maybe this was the place for a last stand? On a hill with a 360-degree view and a rifle?

“Could we hold them off here?” Owen asked, eerily echoing her thoughts.

“Not for long.”

“What is it like to kill someone?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Not good, I guess,” Heather replied.

“Dad’s a killer too,” Owen said. “A liar and a killer.”

“That was an accident. It’s a different thing,” Heather said. She looked at the terrain and shook her head. No—no last stand here. They could flank the three of them easily with vehicles, and there was no real cover, just four big trees. They would have to move.

She watched the little scrambler motorcycle move through the drab white grasses, coming inevitably on a vector that would bring Kate and her shotgun and all the O’Neills up here.

“Remember what the guide told us at Uluru? Isn’t this the sign for ‘water hole’?” Owen asked. He was pointing at a drawing of a circle within a circle on the rock wall that jutted between the trees.

“You’re right!” Olivia said.

“And what’s this?” Owen asked.

Near the handprints there was a layer of moss growing over the bare rock.

“It’s moss,” Heather said.

“It’s moving,” Owen said.

“What do you mean, it’s moving? It can’t be moving.”

“It’s moving in the wind.”

“Is there something behind it?”

Owen dug at it with his fingers. “I think there’s like a hole or something behind it,” he said.

Heather walked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, under the moss there was a hole about two feet wide packed with rocks and dirt.

She tore through it and found what appeared to be a narrow entrance.

“What is it?” Olivia asked.

“I think it’s a mine or a cave or something. Hold on.”

She removed more dirt and crawled into a narrow tunnel. It was barely an opening, just wide enough to squeeze through. Once it had been larger, but cave-ins and rockfalls had closed the passage.

She struggled through the opening and it began to get a bit wider. She flicked on Jacko’s lighter and saw that it was a natural cave, not a mine.

She went a little farther. She could breathe the air, so there was some kind of ventilation.

The tunnel was thirty feet long and she could stand now on the sandy dirt. It was much cooler in here than the world outside, and the acoustic properties were unusual. When she went around a dogleg in the passage, she saw the ground sloping down dramatically to what appeared to be a pool of water. That would explain the coolness and the acoustics.

She ran back and crawled out through the cave mouth. “It’s a spring! There’s water! A great big pool of it!”

“Is it drinkable?” Olivia asked.

“One way to find out. Follow me,” she said.

She flicked Jacko’s lighter on again and they trailed her along the passage. This time she noticed many more handprints on the wall and drawings of animals. They went around the dogleg and down the slope. There was enough space for them to stand quite easily around the pool.

“It looks dirty,” Owen said.

“That’s only the light, I think,” Heather said.

There was moss floating on the water and a few dead insects. She cupped her hands and took a drink.

It was saline and minerally, but it was definitely fresh water. Cool, too, coming from a deep source in the bedrock. She drank and felt energy rushing through her. She drank again, and her muscles began to loosen. She felt the sinews unclench in the back of her thighs. She felt her toes and thighs and fingertips.

Her brain began to unfog.

“I think it’s good, kids. It’s not going to taste like the bottled water you’re used to, but it’s fine to drink. Drink up. Slowly.”

Olivia hesitantly leaned forward and scooped a little of the water into her hands. She poured it into her mouth and looked at Heather and smiled.

“It’s good!” she said. “I like it.”

She began scooping handfuls into her mouth.

“Careful, not too much, you don’t want to overload your system,” Heather said. “That’s it, slowly, take a little break now.”

Olivia nodded and leaned back on the cave floor with a big happy smile on her face.

Heather had thought that Olivia would never smile again.

“That was awesome,” Olivia murmured.

Heather turned to Owen. “OK, kid,” she said. “Now you.”