The Island(79)

When she was nearly a thousand yards away, she stopped and caught her breath and drank water from the canteen.

Suddenly all the farm lights went out.

The generator had been bled dry of diesel.

She checked the ammo situation. She had three bullets left in the bag.

Was it worth risking a thousand-yard shot? Was it worth wasting one of her final three rounds in an attempt to ignite diesel and gasoline fumes?

Why not?

She lay down in the dirt and flipped the long-range sight and aimed slightly above the black mass that was the fuel tank for the generator.

The music in her head was “Day of the Lords” by Joy Division.

Careful, now.

Slow.

She pulled the trigger.

The .303 slug went straight through the diesel tank without igniting anything.

Damn it.

Worth another?

Hell with it. She danced the bolt. Aimed. She squeezed the trigger, and the rifle thumped comfortingly into her right shoulder. The explosive in the cartridge threw out a lead ogive that the barrel spiraled into the air with the faintest rush of smoke and the sweet smell of gunpowder. The bullet had been on a collision course with its target since it was manufactured in North London in 1941. It traveled across the heath at two thousand feet per second.

There was a yellow explosion that was so big, it might possibly draw attention on the mainland. She heard the roar a full two seconds after she saw the flame.

“That’s for Tom. He was a doctor! And it’s for Hans and Petra. And it’s for scaring the shit out of my kids!” she said and stood and raised her middle finger.





40



She jogged for a half a mile before stopping and taking a sip from her canteen.

The rain intensified. Sheet lightning silhouetting her against the horizon. It smelled like Seattle rain. Like fir. It didn’t smell like this parched continent. She wondered if all rain smelled the same.

Poor dead Tom would have known.

It took her forty-five minutes to make it back to the cave.

The O’Neills could get more dogs, but for now the dogs were dead and the three of them were safe.

Owen was sitting by the fire waiting for her.

“Hey, Owen,” she said.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re wet.”

“It’s raining. I couldn’t get any more meat. Everything OK here?”

“Yeah…I killed a snake.”

“You what?”

“Over there, against the wall. I didn’t know if it was going to bother us or not but it was crawling toward Olivia, so I had to kill it.”

Heather was aghast. “What? A snake? Are you joking?”

“It’s over there by the wall.”

Heather took the rifle off her shoulder. There was indeed a dead snake by the wall. A brown snake about six feet long.

“I thought it was just going to mind its own business. They mostly do, you know. But then it started crawling toward Olivia. I was watching behind my wall. I have this wall thing.”

“I know.”

“I was behind my wall but I kept peeking over and it was coming closer, so I had to try to kill it.”

“Oh, Owen! Oh my God!” she said, putting her arms around him and hugging him. “Didn’t you even wake Olivia?”

“What was the point? I killed it.”

Olivia was still sleeping, curled on her side by the fire.

“How did you kill it?”

“I picked up a big rock and threw it at it. I missed completely. The rock hit the cave wall but then dropped on the snake’s back, kind of pinning it. I grabbed another rock and got close and dropped it on the snake’s head.”

“Jesus, Owen! What if it had bitten you? Or spit venom at you?”

“They don’t do that.”

Heather went over to look at the snake. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“My snake book and the Primitive Technology channel on YouTube. That guy does a million things with rocks. You should watch it. I don’t think it was completely awake. They’re cold-blooded. They need to warm up. So not really a fair fight.”

Olivia stirred. “You’re back,” she said.

“Owen, tell her what you did while I search the rest of the cave for any other guests.”

“I don’t, um, like…I don’t want to brag or anything.”

“For once in your life, brag.”

Owen told Olivia about the snake. Olivia didn’t believe it until he showed her. She hugged him and Owen didn’t believe that. Heather didn’t find any other snakes in the cave.

“I forgot to tell you guys, I found a can of peaches,” she said, removing it from her bag.

“Wow, those must be fifty years old,” Owen said.

“Do you think they’re safe to eat?” Olivia asked.

“One way to find out.”

Heather stabbed the machete into the lid and carefully opened the tin.

They ate the peaches.

They were the best-tasting peaches in the history of Earth.

The kids drank the peach juice and talked and even laughed.

They sat around the fire and Heather glanced at Owen’s science homework. It was beyond her, but Olivia and Owen explained it.

“We need some music,” Olivia said.