Camilla looked around, noticing they were still one contestant short. “Where’s Jordan?” she asked Veronica.
Veronica shook her head. “Haven’t seen her all day.”
Lauren jerked her head in an impatient come-here gesture. “Mason. Camilla.”
Camilla hesitated, not liking where she saw this going.
“Come on,” Mason said. “Lauren’s got the right idea here. She knows what she’s doing.”
He walked over to join Lauren’s group, and Camilla reluctantly followed.
JT pulled the first water jugs off the line. He handed one to Camilla and one to Mason, then opened his own and took a long drink. Camilla did the same. The water felt wonderful splashing down her parched mouth and throat. Knowing she should slow down, she drank gulp after gulp, unable to stop until she needed a breath. Then she lowered the jug and started toward Brent, Veronica, Natalie, and Travis who stood a small distance away.
“Hang on.” Lauren laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Not so fast.”
Camilla pushed the hand off her shoulder. She walked over to hand her jug to Veronica who smiled at her, those silver eyes momentarily kind. But Veronica immediately handed the water to Natalie. Tipping the jug up, Natalie took several huge gulps, then handed it back to Veronica with a muffled thank-you. Veronica drank and passed the jug to Brent.
The jug was more than a third gone now. Knowing she had done the right thing by sharing, Camilla tried not to monitor how much was left.
Before Brent could drink, Travis reached for the jug. “Old man, you better—”
Brent handed it to him without protest and tucked his hands into the pockets of his vest. He met Camilla’s eyes, and she could see his approval. Good. Brent, too, understood what Julian was trying to do here. And he didn’t like it, either.
“Well, Doc,” Travis said, tossing aside the empty jug. “Seems like we just ran out of water. But on the odd chance you’re thirsty, too, you might want to take it up with the lady over there.” Grinning, he pointed at Lauren.
Camilla shook her head in disgust. Travis had finished her water. Watching Mason squat behind Lauren to stack the jugs in a pyramid, she realized that team loyalties didn’t matter to anyone right now. These dynamics were much simpler: the haves and the have-nots. Lauren’s “haves” controlled all the water. Deliberately spurning her own place among the haves, Camilla had joined the have-nots in protest, and she was proud she had done so.
Juan leaned against a rock nearby. He looked like a bored lifeguard to Camilla, but his position near Lauren, JT, and Mason made it clear which group he was with. Trying to catch his eye, she willed him to put a stop to this.
Say something, Juan. Take charge. I know Lauren will listen to you.
But Juan seemed to be only half paying attention.
If Jordan were here to see him, Camilla thought, she would have an I-told-you-so look on her face. But where was she? A worm of worry spiraled through Camilla’s gut. Could Jordan have gotten hurt somewhere while everyone else was focused on the water? But there were cameras everywhere, supposedly. If something bad had happened, Julian and his crew would have seen it on-screen and would have come out. She looked over her shoulder toward the warehouse buildings, but they remained silent and still. No activity. Maybe Jordan had given up and gone back inside one of the two houses, then. It wouldn’t be easy for her to move around the island barefoot.
And there was that, too, wasn’t there? Would Julian and his crew
really
have taken Jordan’s other shoes? Camilla looked at Juan, remembering the fight he had with Jordan aboard the yacht, and her gut tightened. But taking Jordan’s shoes was such a petty, spiteful thing to do. She couldn’t imagine many guys even
thinking
of it. No, she was getting paranoid. She focused on Lauren.
Lauren seemed to be counting the water jugs. She frowned. Did it again. Her eyes narrowed. Then she stared at Juan. He shrugged. For a moment, it looked as if Lauren was about to say something to him. Her face twisted in indecision, and then she turned to face the “have-nots” instead, holding up a jug of water.
“Okay, people, listen up,” she said. “Half this water’s mine, and half belongs to Juan.” She raised her voice to drown out the protests. “We went out there and earned it the hard way. Risked our lives. Besides, you heard the rules this morning, same as we did—”
“I don’t care about the rules,” Camilla said, stepping forward. “You’re better than this, Lauren.”
“Don’t worry, we plan to share the water with you all. But it isn’t going to be free. Fair is fair. We’ve got twelve jugs left. Who’s thirsty?”
“I’ll pay cash.” Veronica’s voice was loud, like a bidder at an auction. She held up a fan of hundred-dollar bills. “A thousand dollars for two jugs.”
Lauren laughed. “Don’t be cheap. The island’s Seven-Eleven isn’t open, and this may be our only water for the next ten days.”
Camilla’s discomfort deepened. Only twelve gallons of water? But it was possible Lauren was right.
At Lauren’s side, JT laughed. “A thousand? This shit is worth a lot more than Cristal right now.”
Mason stood up behind them. “It’s a closed economy, so basic laws of supply and demand apply here.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose, addressing Veronica. “All of us found plenty of cash. And even though, as a banker, it pains me to say this, none of us have much use for it right now.” He winked. “But hang on to it. It might come in handy in a couple of weeks.”
“This is just idiotic,” Veronica said. She crumpled the bills in her fist and jammed them into her pocket.
“What else do you have?” Lauren asked her.
Veronica looked down at the small pile of caches she had found: toilet paper and binoculars.
“I’ll take the binoculars.” Lauren held out her hand.
Veronica’s mouth was a tight line.
Mason laughed. “And in case you’re thinking of holding us all hostage for toilet paper later, don’t bother. We can just use our cash instead.”
• • •
Camilla and Mason sat with their backs against a rock, twenty feet away from the others. She had two jugs of water between her feet; Mason had one. She watched the trading with interest, noting the caches that people had found, as they exchanged them for water.
“That was weird,” she said. “Natalie actually traded one of her water jugs
back
to get that stun gun.”
She watched Natalie press the trigger of the small handheld unit, sending crackling arcs of electricity dancing between the two metal prongs at the front. Looking a little surprised, Natalie jammed it into the belly pocket of her hoodie.
“What does she want with that?” Camilla asked.
“Well,” Mason said, “Natalie’s quiet, but she’s not dumb. And on the red team, she’s like a lamb among lions. They’re a rough bunch.”
“Back on the ship, when we chose our teammates…” She watched Natalie drift to the side of the group. “Should we have—”
“No.” He laughed. “Definitely not. Save your charity for when it isn’t likely to cost you five million dollars.”
“A lot of this stuff Julian hid for us is kind of odd, and not just the stun gun.” Camilla pointed to Mason’s bear spray and first-aid kit. “Scary, even.” She thought about the other items she had seen: disposable rain ponchos, rolls of duct tape, space blankets, a flashlight, a roll of thin-gauge wire, camping cookware and forks and spoons—ironic, considering that no one had found any food. What were they supposed to do, eat the wildlife?
She looked down at the large packet of candles in her lap. “At least some of it’s useful.”
Mason laughed. “Pretty useless, actually, without matches. Unlike
that
.” He pointed to the LED camp lantern that Travis was handing to Lauren.
“Juan got the matches,” Camilla said. “But you’re right: that lantern will come in handy.”
“For the red team, not us,” Mason said. “Nice of you to give Lauren that big folding knife, too.”
“I needed to get the extra jug of water, for Jordan,” Camilla said. “I’m worried about her. We should go look for her.”
“She’s fine,” he said. “If there’s one person here you don’t need to worry about, it’s our team captain.”
The trading had died down now.
“Anybody got a coin?” Lauren asked. Brent tossed her one, and Camilla remembered that Lauren and Juan planned to flip for who got the points.
Juan seemed to have perked up. He reached for the coin, but Lauren shook her head, handing it to JT instead. “Call it in the air,” she said to Juan.
Juan won the toss. He didn’t react much. As he scanned the ten-point RF tag that had been zip-tied to one of the water jugs, Lauren gritted her teeth. She looked like she wanted to hit somebody. Instead, she bent to gather her caches and her water. Others were doing the same now.
Camilla leaned back against the rock. “Excitement’s over, I guess.”
“Okay, that’s my cue, then.” Mason stood up and walked into the center of the group with his hand high, like a scalper hawking Giant’s tickets in front of AT&T Park. Camilla’s face split into a grin of surprise when she saw what dangled from his upraised hand. Without a working scanner, he had pocketed the RF tags off the caches he found. He now held five or six, waving them for all to see. Juan and Lauren both froze in place, staring at the tags.
“I’d like to buy a vowel,” Mason announced.
Five minutes later, Camilla was grinning and shaking her head, looking at Mason. He had five jugs of water at his feet, along with three rolls of duct tape and the bear spray. He had traded his RF tags, along with the space blankets and the first-aid kit, to Juan and Lauren for the water. Camilla looked around, realizing that Mason had now cornered the island’s water market. Other than her, with the jug she was saving for Jordan, he was the only person with more than one jug.
She poked him in the chest with her finger. “All I can say is, you better share when people need it, buddy. Or you’ll have
me
to answer to.”
“Want some free financial advice?” Mason pointed at the jugs at his feet. “Always invest where there’s limited supply and high demand.”
Jordan appeared suddenly from around the corner of the bluff facing the mainland, jogging barefoot along the beach with a large Tupperware container in her arms. A big bag of trail mix was balanced on the top. She smiled her dazzling smile.
“Guys, I know where all the food is.”
Zelda’s Beachside Restaurant, Capitola, California
“A
film crew
?” Jacob asked. “Is it those Discovery Channel guys again?”
Karen Anderson looked at Heather for help.
There beneath the big white-and-maroon-striped umbrella on the restaurant’s open sundeck, the soft, ocean-scented breeze was just cool enough to feel good on Heather’s face. She wanted an explanation as badly as Jacob did, so she didn’t say anything. Dmitry didn’t, either.
“What the hell?” Jacob said. “Why aren’t we out there as technical advisers at least, making sure they don’t disrupt things?”
The beach in front of them was crowded with tourists and locals. Children played in the sand and ran in and out of the surf in half-zipped wetsuits, screaming with delight. On the other side of the esplanade, a pastel-colored row of faux-adobe haciendas—beach rentals—nestled against a backdrop of eucalyptus trees.
Karen pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She looked around at the surrounding tables, then put the pack and the lighter back in her purse with a sigh.
“Try and see how this looks from our perspective,” Heather said to her.
The waitress, a twenty-something blonde with a streak of purple in her hair and turquoise nail polish, arrived with their burgers and salads. Dmitry smiled at her, and she smiled back at him from behind oversize dark sunglasses.
The Santa Cruz coastline curved away out to sea in both directions, revealing miles of beach-and-bluff coastline under a wide blue sky spotted with cotton-puff clouds. The tall coastal bluffs to the south were ridged with white-painted houses interspersed with eucalyptus and cypress woods.
The focus of their conversation lay just a few short miles up the coast in the other direction, to the less-populated north: Año Nuevo Island.
Karen picked up a fork and put it back down. “Look, I’m disappointed, too,” she said. “I really look forward to our stay out on the island every year. But there are financial considerations as well. A little flexibility from you guys would be helpful.”
“Last time Discovery did that segment, I didn’t like the way they made us look,” Jacob said. “They’re not interested in the science; they only want ratings. They play on people’s fears.”
“Your food’s getting cold,” Karen said, and started on her salad.
Heather looked down at the weathered decking at her feet, worn to a rounded smoothness except for the knuckle-size bulges of harder knots in the wood. A small brown sparrow bobbed near her ankle, looking up at her hopefully. She dropped an inch-thick home-style french fry, and the sparrow hopped toward it.
“I didn’t invite you here to argue,” Karen said. “I wanted to give you some good news. Team, we’re fully funded for the next eighteen months. So extend the study.
Expand
it. We have last season’s tracker data to work with now…”
A rhythmic tinging rose from the table, stopping her in mid sentence: Jacob tapping his fork against his plate. He was looking out at the waves, jaw working like he was chewing something he couldn’t swallow.
“Why didn’t you tell us until the last minute?” Heather asked Karen.
“This thing just came together,” she said. “The stars aligned.”
“That’s no answer.”
“You guys need to grow up a little.” Karen’s voice took on a little heat. “We were almost three hundred thousand dollars short heading into next year. Projects were on the chopping block. Including yours…”
“What?”
Jacob snapped out of his sullen reverie.
“Yes, it was going to get cut.” Karen said. “I found a way to save it, and all you three can do is bitch.”
In the silence that followed, something fluttered at Heather’s feet. She looked down to see the brown sparrow whirr into panicked flight and shoot between the yellow-painted railing that separated Zelda’s Restaurant from the beach. The big gray pigeon that had chased it away waddled back to the abandoned french fry at her feet. It regarded Heather with its beady black eye for a moment, then began to peck at the fry.