There was a low sound of fabric rubbing against itself and sand shifting under a heel. The figure leaned away, and we heard a sharp rip—the sound of a zipper, deafening in the absolute stillness of the night.

Like a blade, light cut into our eyes. We moaned at the pain of it, and our hand flew up to cover our closed eyes. Even behind our lids, the light was too bright. The light disappeared, and we felt the breath of the next sigh hit our face.

We opened our eyes carefully, more blind than before. Whoever faced us sat very still and said nothing. We began to feel the tension of the moment, but it felt far away, outside ourself. It was hard to care about anything but the water in our belly and where we could find more. We tried to concentrate, to see what had rescued us.

The first thing we could make out, after minutes of blinking and squinting, was the thick whiteness that fell from the dark face, a million splinters of pale in the night. When we grasped that this was a beard—like Santa Claus, we thought chaotically—the other pieces of the face were supplied by our memory. Everything fit into place: the big cleft-tipped nose, the wide cheekbones, the thick white brows, the eyes set deep into the wrinkled fabric of skin. Though we could see only hints of each feature, we knew how light would expose them.

“Uncle Jeb,” we croaked in surprise. “You found us.”

Uncle Jeb, squatting next to us, rocked back on his heels when we said his name.

“Well, now,” he said, and his gruff voice brought back a hundred memories. “Well, now, here’s a pickle.”

CHAPTER 13: Sentenced

CHAPTER 13

Sentenced

Are they here?” We choked out the words—they burst from us like the water in our lungs had, expelled. After water, this question was all that mattered. “Did they make it?”

Uncle Jeb’s face was impossible to read in the darkness. “Who?” he asked.

“Jamie, Jared!” Our whisper burned like a shout. “Jared was with Jamie. Our brother! Are they here? Did they come? Did you find them, too?”

There was barely a pause.

“No.” His answer was forceful, and there was no pity in it, no feeling at all.

“No,” we whispered. We were not echoing him, we were protesting against getting our life back. What was the point? We closed our eyes again and listened to the pain in our body. We let that drown out the pain in our mind.

“Look,” Uncle Jeb said after a moment. “I, uh, have something to take care of. You rest for a bit, and I’ll be back for you.”

We didn’t hear the meaning in his words, just the sounds. Our eyes stayed closed. His footsteps crunched quietly away from us. We couldn’t tell which direction he went. We didn’t care anyway.