“You need a shower,” Bernard remarks, scrapping some dirt off his sleeve

I pull a chunk of mud out of my hair. “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.”

Maci’s fast asleep, curled up in the cubby of the rock. I owe the kid my life and vow to keep her as safe as I can from now on.

After I’ve gotten most of the dirt off my clothes and face, I get to my feet and stretch my hands above my head, blinking the morning from my eyes.

“You’re alive.” Maci crawls out, her hands and hair covered with a red layer of dust from the rock. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have,” I say. “If you hadn’t sent Bernard to help me.” I wipe the blade of my knife and tuck it away. “How did you know I was going to drown?”

She smiles. “Because I can see things in my head sometimes—before they’re gonna happen.”

“I’d say she was crazy,” Bernard says stepping beside me. “But after what happened last night …”

“How long have you been able to see things?” I ask curiously.

“Since I came out from behind the red door,” she replies.

I smile, but a shudder crawls through my body as I remember the red door and how it sent a surge of fear through me, one so strong it kept me from opening it.

“We should get going.” I pick up my jacket I left draped over the rock so it could dry out. The fabric is crusty and stiff and I ball it up, deciding to carry it, and then start over the rocks.

“Go where?” Bernard follows after me, gracefully climbing over the rock. His clumsiness has seemed to shift over night, but I’m glad. “I mean, where the heck are we supposed to go? There’s nothing around.”

“I know that.” I give Maci a hand getting down.  “But we need to go somewhere—find some food and water so we don’t starve to death.”

“There are puddles everywhere.” Bernard points to the ground. “We could drink from them.”

“But they’re gross.” Maci makes a face. “And there’s bugs in them.”

“It might be our only choice.” I kneel down beside a puddle, picking out a fly floating in it. Then I scoop and handful and holding my breath, take a sip.

“Ew,” Maci whispers.

“How’s it taste?” Bernard asks derisively

“Not that bad,” I lie and take another sip, trying not to gag. Survival is survival and humans need water to survive.  “You should all drink up before it evaporates.”

“No thanks,” Bernard says. “I’m good.”

Maci looks disgusted, but leans down and cups a handful of dirty water. Then she takes a sip, a sour expression twisting on her face, but she doesn’t complain.