Survival Colony 9 by Joshua David Bellin Page B

was all business.
    “All right, people,” he said. “That’s that. See if you can find any sources we’ve missed, then report back to me.”
    We slogged through quicksand up to our boot tops in search of traces we’d overlooked, but I could tell right away we’d been too thorough for that. What hadn’t dried already had turned to mud pudding, and that was hardening fast under the sun’s punishment. A few measly puddles glistened darkly in the bottom of the crater, but I knew that by the time we climbed down there, if we could climb down there, they’d be gone. Wali looked ready to try, until Aleka laid a hand on his arm. Korah, for once, said nothing, none of the usual chiding or teasing words she reserved just for him. In fact, she didn’t even look at him as he craned his neck to judge the crater’s depth. We found a couple basements where the water hadn’t drained through cracks in the foundation, and Aleka sent us downstairs to scoop what we could, but it wasn’t anything to brag about.
    “Next thing you know she’ll be telling us to take a leak and collect that too,” Yov grumbled as we trudged down the stairs. For once, I couldn’t argue with him.
    By the time we’d finished searching, the clothes on my back had stiffened and the heat from the ground bled through my boots. I looked around at the faces in camp. Everyone had their mouths half open, panting in the mid-morning sun like underwater creatures that had realized a second too late what a bad idea it was to come up for air.
    We trooped back to headquarters, and Aleka told my dad what he already knew. His hair had dried and hung on his shoulders in thick, matted tangles. He moved stiffly, his limp having returned in full force. He told us to sit, and people did, slowly, as if their bodies had hardened as much as the ground. The stone I sat on, the dust beneath my feet, radiated heat like a griddle.
    “Good work, people,” he said. “The shifts ran right on schedule. A real team effort.”
    Everyone looked at their hands, their neighbors, anywhere but at him.
    “This’ll pay off,” he promised. “Aleka, when did the barrels run dry?”
    “Five weeks ago,” she reported.
    “So we’ve been boiling river water for over a month,” he announced. “We can take a break from that now. Get our strength back until the next rainfall.”
    What he didn’t mention was that the last rainfall had been months ago, and that the rain that time had fallen a full day and part of a night. We got six barrels out of it, and we’d drained those six barrels, if Aleka’s numbers checked out, in roughly two months. We’d collected at most a half-barrel of half-clean water today. Which meant we’d be right back to gagging on river water in less than a week. If we skimped.
    I stole glances at the people around me, and saw nothing but sullen stares. Araz sat with the scout Kin, the driver hulking and pensive, his partner diminutive and alert, eyes flicking around the circle. To my surprise, Wali had chosen a seat next to Yov. The older teen whispered something in his ear, and I watched as a smile slowly spread across Wali’s face. I risked a sidelong glance at Korah, but she looked directly at my dad, her head held regally and her hair magically softened to its customary shine by the sun.
    And I knew we were in trouble for real. I didn’t know why or how, but I knew.
    “Take an hour to rest,” my dad’s voice intruded. “Then we need to get back to sorting personal items.”
    The grown-ups stared numbly as they realized that yesterday’s triage order had only been delayed, not revoked. But everyone seemed too exhausted to put up a fight. People rose and wandered off, seeking solitude or shade. My dad and Aleka, along with the other officers, clustered as usual.
    The only thing I felt like doing was collapsing into bed, but I forced myself to head over to the supply building. In my exhaustion, a fuzzy plan had formed to consolidate items to save space.