The van had once been white, but most of the paint has been scraped away, leaving bare steel. All the windows are missing, there’s a long gash in the roof, and what’s left of the vehicle is swamped in about three feet of water. The tires are gone, ripped from the hubs. The seats have been mushed together.

“Anything inside? I remember there was gear in the back. Maybe stuff we didn’t need on the river trip, but might come in handy now.” Mia sounds almost wistful.

Hanging on to a branch, I reach down as far as I can. Plunging my free hand into the water. Being careful because of all the jagged metal edges. My fingers find a plastic handle, and I lift out the blue cooler. The one that had all the snacks.

It’s very heavy. Way too heavy.

Imani and Mia help me lift it free. We crack the lid. No surprise, the snacks are gone and the cooler is full of water and sand.

“Keep looking. There must be more.”

I manage to get down into the wrecked vehicle, kneeling on what remains of the seats. Fishing around the muddy water, I recover the following treasures:

A battered aluminum coffeepot. A coil of black rope. A tin box that’s the twin of our fire-starter box. A University of Montana baseball cap. A set of Allen wrenches. A utility knife.

“It’s got to be there,” Mia says, sounding desperate.

“What’s got to be there?”

“There was a cardboard box that I’m pretty sure contained packets of freeze-dried. I remember because I had to move it to make room and Sky said put it in the back.”

That explains her keen interest. Food. But if the box was in the back when we left the van, it’s long gone, torn loose by the flood. I tell her as much but she doesn’t believe me, and gets down into the water to check for herself.

She splashes around in frustration, coming up empty. I exchange a glance with Imani, who shrugs as if to say, There’s no stopping Mia when she gets an idea in her head.

While she’s searching, I check out the fire-starter box. There’s water inside, but the matches are in sealed, waterproof containers. Good. And the waxy fire-starter cubes are ready to ignite. Excellent. For this alone it was worth the long climb down. Add in the rope and the utility knife, it’s a major find.

Imani seems to be most interested in the aluminum coffeepot. She checks it out, and despite being battered and bent, it still holds water. “For boiling,” she says.

“We already have one.”

“We can leave it for the enemy, as a peace offering.” Her expression is solemn, serious. She’s given it some thought.