“Our supplies,” Nat says urgently. She runs to the back of the jeep. “We should save what we can.” She hauls a water jug out and lets it drop to the ground. I push my way in beside her and haul out a box of food. The heat around the jeep is intense, and I catch a glimpse of orange. Flames are licking at the undercarriage. I stare at the fire, trying to think. “Nat.”
“What?”
“The gas. It could⦔
“Explode.” Her dark eyes are enormous, wide with fear.
I look at all our gear: the table, our clothes, the boxes of food, the precious jugs of waterâ¦How much time do we have? What is most important? I reach for a water jug. “Come on,” I yell. “Stand back.”
I let the water drop to the ground a few feet from the jeep and we run. Behind us, I can feel the heat as the jeep burns. “My camera,” I say helplessly. Stupidly.
Nat stops, swears, dashes back to the jeep and crawls through the open side door. I can barely see her through the smoke. “Nat!” I yell. “What are you doing? Forget the camera! It doesn't matter.”
No answer. I wonder what will happen if the gas tank explodes. Will there be any warning? Or justâ¦I swear and run to the jeep, blinded by the black smoke, eyes stinging. “Nat! Get out of there!” My hand finds her arm and I grab hold and pull her out. She is choking, clutching something. Not my camera bag, just her daypack. “You went back for that? Are you crazy?” I cough, stumble a safe distance away and collapse to the ground. Nat sinks down beside me, coughing hard, breathing in painful-sounding gasps.
We watch helplessly as the jeep burns. Flames leap from the driver's window, lick at the door frames, reach red tongues into the black smoke, push a wall of heat toward us.
And I realize how completely screwed we are.
The truck burns fast. Within a couple of minutes it is engulfed in flames. There is a column of black smoke a mile high, and an awful stomach-turning stench: burning rubber, melting plastic. The smell of all our supplies going up in smoke.
We watch in silence as the truck is reduced to a blackened, smoldering shell. Finally I turn to Mel.“Now what do we do?” It's like some little kid part of me is still counting on him. He is the adult here. He must have some kind of backup plan.
Mel doesn't answer. He just stands there, staring at what is left of the truck, with his shirt hanging loose over his khaki shorts and the bag he always carries still slung over his shoulder. “We're so screwed,” Nat says hopelessly. “Mel, please tell me you have the sat phone in that bag.”
I'd forgotten about the sat phone. I hold my breath, waiting for his reply. We're way out of range for a regular cell phone, but a satellite phone would mean we could call someone, let someone know where we are and that we need help. It would mean we might not be totally screwed after all.
“Ready to give up, are you? Can't wait to get back to the city?” Mel turns on Nat furiously, his face red and sweaty, soot making a dark mustache above his upper lip. “You're responsible for this,” he says. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Hey. Mel, that's not fair.” I try to break in, but Mel talks right over me, his voice getting louder and his face redder.
“You arranged the jeep rental. You should've made sure that we had a decent fire extinguisher.” He steps toward her. “You deliberately sabotaged us. You're trying to ruin my career.”
“How is this Nat's fault?” I ask. “She didn't start the fire. It just happened.”
“I've been checking the engine every morning,” Nat says. “You were the one who decided to drive off the track.” She gestures at the tracks leading back in the direction of our camp. “Right through all the spinifex.”
“Don't try to change the subject!” Mel grabs her arm. “How much are they paying you?”
Nat tries to pull away, but he doesn't let go. “What are you talking about?” she yells. “No one's paying me anything! If I cared about the money, I'd hardly be working my butt off for you, Mel!”
“What is it then? Your
career
?” He sneers. “The Rizzards say they'd give you the credit for something? Put your name on one of their papers?”
“No!” She raises her voice angrily. “Why don't you trust me, Mel?”
“Because you've made it clear you aren't on my side.”
“There are no sides, Mel! We're supposed to work together.”
Dried saliva is sticking in white flecks around Mel's lips. “So that's your excuse, is it? You're giving them information because we're all good buddies and we're all working together. My dear girl”âhis voice drips sarcasmâ“there's only room for one on the summit. Only one.”
I put my hand on Mel's arm. “Let her go. Can we worry about the summit later? Right now we're all in this situation together.” I nod in the direction of the burned-out jeep. “And it's not exactly a good situation. In fact⦔
“We're so screwed,” Nat says flatly. “We are so totally screwed.”
Mel releases Nat's arm and turns to me. “So,” he says flatly. “I see you've chosen, Jayden. You've chosen your side.”
“What? No!” I shake my head in frustration. “Mel, it's like Nat said. There are no sides! We have to figure out how we're going to deal with this.”
“There is no
we
anymore,” he says. “You two have made that quite clear.”
Nothing I say is going to make a difference. “Okay, fine,” I say. “Think what you like, but I'd rather not be stuck out here. Do you have the sat phone?”
He gestures at the truck.
A fear that is close to panic is starting to grip me. No vehicle. No communications. And Mel isn't going to be the grown-up here. He doesn't have a backup plan. He isn't going to rescue us.
So it's up to me and Nat.
I turn to Nat. “Let's get the stuff we salvaged and go back to camp.” I try to sound calmer than I feel. “We'll come up with a plan.”
She rubs her wrist. I can see red marks where Mel gripped it. “Okay,” she says. “Let's go.”
Nat and I walk together. Mel doesn't come with us, which is just as well. I'm so angry that I'd probably end up hitting him if he said another word to either of us. We managed to save three water jugs and a box of food, in addition to whatever we unloaded back at the camp earlier. We leave one water jug for Mel to carry and set off with the rest.
“I'm sorry,” I say after a few minutes.
“You? What for?”
“Mel. I don't know. He's my uncle.”
She shakes her head. “That's stupid.”
“I guess so.” I don't have the energy to argue. I've got a water jug in each hand, and they weigh a ton. My arms will be a foot longer by the time we reach our camp. I put the jugs down, flex my fingers and rub my reddened hands. “You okay?”
Nat gives a short laugh. “What do you think?”
“Yeah. I guess not.” The heat pushes down on us like a heavy weight. “I feel like I'm on some other planet,” I say. “Closer to the sun. A planet with more gravity than Earth.”
“Uh-huh.” She stops and puts down the box of food. “How much farther,do you think?”
All I can see is the tracks stretching off toward the horizon. “I don't know. We should drink something.”
“Okay.” Nat sits down, and I drop to the ground beside her.
This heatâ¦It's like being in a sauna, only there's no door out. I twist the lid of a water jug and pass it to her. She tilts it toward herself, careful not to spill, and drinks thirstily. The sun is getting lower in the sky, and while I am relieved that the temperature will be dropping, I am also anxious about reaching our camp before dark. I take the jug from Nat and drink. The water is warm, but I've never appreciated a drink so much in my life. I gulp it down.
“Go easy,” Nat says softly.
I stop drinking. She's right. This water will have to last us forâ¦I push the thought away because I don't know the answer and I can't bear to think about that right now. I stand up. “Come on,” I say. “It can't be much farther.” I pick up the water and we walk on, one foot in front of the other, back along our own tire tracks.
It is almost dark when we reach our camp. My face feels baked, my lips swollen and sore, and my back and shoulders and hands are wrecked from carrying the water.
“Jayden?”
I open the water jug and take a small sip. And another. “Mmm. What?” I pass it to her.
“Do you want to sleep in my tent tonight? In case Mel shows up?”
I'm not sure if she's thinking of my feelings or if she's scared of him, but either way I am quick to agree.
“Don't get any ideas,” she says, ducking into her tent.
Until she said that, I hadn't. “Don't worry,” I say. “I'll be unconscious as soon as I lie down.”
I sit alone for a while, watching the dark get blacker and deeper. Then, chilled and exhausted, I grab my sleeping bag, crawl into Nat's tent and flop down beside her. I'm almost asleep when she says, “How long do you think that walk was? Tonight?”
“I don't know.” I roll to face her, but it's too dark to see her face. “Maybe three kilometers? It would've been okay if we weren't carrying so much stuff.”
“Mm.”
I wonder what she's thinking.
“Jayden? Do you know how far it is to get anywhere from here?” She's whispering, but I can hear the fear in her voice.
I reach out and find her hand in the blackness. “Tomorrow,” I say. “We'll come up with a plan. I promise.”
Maybe half an hour later, I hear rustling and footsteps, followed by the sound of the zipper on the other tent. Mel's back. I wait for a few minutes, wondering if he will come over to Nat's tent and start yelling at us again, but within minutes, I hear him start to snore.
And the next thing I know, the sun is streaming through the thin canvas and tomorrow is here.
I crawl toward the tent door, trying not to wake Nat, and open the zipper slowly.
“Morning.” Nat sits up. There are dark circles under her eyes and pillow creases on her cheek.
“Hey.” I rub my hands over my face. “Morning.”
“Mmph. Don't suppose we have any coffee.”
“Doubt it.”
She grimaces. “Jeez, my shoulders are sore.”
I roll my own shoulders experimentally. “Yeah. That was some hike.” Our eyes meet, and I know we're both thinking the same thing: that hike was nothing compared to what it'll take to get out of here.
We crawl out of the tent and start taking inventory of our supplies. It's hard to believe, sitting here in the cool morning light, that we are really in any danger.
“Mel brought the last water jug. So that's four jugs at six gallons each. Twenty-four gallons. How long will that last?” I ask.
“Shh,” Nat whispers. “Don't wake him.” She looks over at Mel's tent, and I follow her gaze.
I'm in no hurry for him to join us. In fact, the way I feel right now, I'd be happy never to see him again.
“Eight gallons each,” Nat says softly. “That's not very much. I planned for at least two gallons each per day when I was organizing this trip.”
“Maybe we could stretch it to a week?”
“Depends what we're doing,” she says. “Sitting in the shade, not moving aroundâ¦maybe. I wish we'd saved more from the jeep.”
In a week it will be almost March. I guess it's possible that someone will show up before April, but it sure isn't a gamble I want to take. “Nat? I don't suppose you happened to tell anyone where we were going?”
“A few friends,” she says. “But they won't be any help. If I don't show up, they'll just assume I decided to do some more traveling or whatever.”
“Your parents?”
“They know I'm traveling with Mel. We've been having some arguments lately, so if they don't hear from me for a while, it won't be unusual.” Nat runs her hand through her hair, which is sticking up wildly. “Your folks?”
I shake my head. “Mom thinks we're at the university. I don't have any other family. Well, just Mel.”
We both look at his tent again, and neither of us says anything for a long moment. “You hear these stories,” Nat says, without looking at me. “Every year. Dumb tourist drives off on some remote track, dumb tourist's car breaks down, dumb tourist wanders off into the desert.”
I can guess how these stories end. “Dumb tourist's body found some months later?”
“Yeah.” She sucks on the silver rings in her lower lip. “Well, not always.
Some German guy got bogged down in Lake Disappointment a while back. Totally clueless. He had no water at all, just a case of beer.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was lucky. He got found three days later by some other travelers.”