I had raided all the farms in the vicinity. Found some food, a little flour, some canned goods, a bag of rice. Enough to last for nine weeks, by my calculations. If we didn’t eat much.

But half a cup of boiled rice wasn’t enough.

And I was thirsty. I took a sip from my bottle, even though I knew that I shouldn’t. The water was from the tank in the garden. I had taken all the water that was in it. Boiled it. Filtered it. Tested it on myself before giving it to Lou. It tasted of soil and of something bitter that I couldn’t identify. The aftertaste lingered in the mouth. But I didn’t get sick.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Just work. One day at a time, new tasks every day. Slowly on our way to finishing the boat. To finishing the desalination machine.

And when it finally began to rain, then we would be ready. I was certain that it would start raining. When the rain came, we would use the final remnants of diesel I had discovered in the tank to make our way west through the canal. To the coast.

When the rain came.

And then, finally, out onto the Atlantic Ocean.

The security of the ocean, where you could see everyone who approached, everything approaching, for miles around.

It would be only Lou and me there, on the boat.

We would sail for weeks, maybe it would take months, to the west. Maybe we would just remain at sea forever. Or maybe we would sail all the way to South America.

Lou talked about it—that under the ground in South America there was water. That if we grew tired of the ocean, we could go there.

We just had to wait. Wait and work. While we rationed the water and our strength sensibly.

Around us everything was drying up. Even the mud in the canal had turned to dust.

Lou had stopped singing. The world was silent—almost no insects buzzing. I couldn’t even hear the crickets. Had they also disappeared?

I took another sip. Had to stop now. No more water for one hour. We had enough to manage for twenty days. Only twenty days. And after that, what would we do? Would I watch Lou become dehydrated, get cramps, overpowering headaches? Or would I put her out of her misery? Hold a pillow over her face while she was asleep?

Suddenly there was something drumming lightly on the awning. I stood up.

Drops. Wasn’t it the sound of raindrops? I remained standing. Listening. It must have been drops.

I peeked out from beneath the awning, up at the sky. Blue. An intense blue. The color made me dizzy. But there had to be a cloud, somewhere or other.