My eyes lock on a black rectangle sitting on a desk in the back. I walk in and touch my finger to the dusty screen. On the table next to it is another black rectangular gadget with rows of lettered keys. I tap a few with the pads of my fingers. Arn said these were called computers. Long ago people used them for communication. I trace my initials in the dust on the screen. Then something catches my eye.

A big blue jug attached to a white base sits in the very back of the office. Liquid was once stored in these. I thumb down the little spigot. In a dispenser, I find a stack of rotting paper cups that fall apart at my touch. Could there be more jugs? A slim door sits next to the water dispenser. The wood is warped so I have to yank on the handle for a while until the thing pops open. I cross my fingers and peer in.

No bodies, just rows of pencils, clips, paper, folders, more paper cups and on the floor … a big jug of water. Full.

I clap once and the sound startles a mouse. He shoots from a paper nest in the corner to a hole in the floor. I wrap my hands around the lip of the water jug. The boys will be so happy.

It takes me five minutes to carry the jug back to our classroom. I underestimated how heavy the jug was and how weak I am from travel. Still, I half drag, half carry the prize in and plunk it down on the floor in front of Clay. Clay raises the revolver, but then the recognition dawns on his face.

“Riley,” he says, “What the hell?”

“Water,” I say with a triumphant wave of my hand.

They both blink at me and rub their eyes. I was expecting more fanfare than blank stares.

“Well, I’m thirsty.” I start working on the cap. When I finally get it open and figure out how to pour it in one of our jugs without dumping the whole thing over, I take the first drink. Water’s never tasted so good. I sigh in relief.

“Nice job, ace,” Clay says, stretching and reaching for the jug. I hand it over and he drinks. “Tastes like plastic,” he says as he smiles. “Where’d you get it?”

“Down the hall. Sign said Office.”

Clay takes another drink, a few strings of water dripping down his stubbly chin. “Soon’s I can wake up, we’ll go exploring.”

“It’s kind of a mess out there,” I say, pouring water for Ethan. “Looks like nobody’s been in here in years.”

Clay looks at me, puzzled. “I’d heard of people trading here last year. I can’t figure what happened.”