Down the road they saw another group of people hovering around a fire hydrant, beating it with lead pipes. A mile or so past that they came upon a family of four-mother, father, two little boys-pulling a manhole cover up and starting down it. More cars began to line the roads, their engines assuredly overheated. No steam came from any of them, which Cam found weird. They were just dead. A number of people were on the street with signs begging for water. Nobody had a sign offering it.
The last idle car they passed had a woman in it who appeared to be sleeping, but Cam knew different. Her eyes and mouth were open, a rictus gasping for anything wet.
His thoughts immediately flicked to Cobalt. If older people were already dying of dehydration, how long would it be before his son fell victim to it? What would he do if he had to hold his dead son's body in his arms? How did he go on living if that happened? And what of Becky? Was he supposed to die alone, without her?
"Gimme that." Scott pointed to the security Club he kept on the passenger side floor.
Cam picked it up and handed it over. There was no need to ask what Scott's intentions were; he could see the site drawing close, could see the horde of people that were crowded around the management trailer. Their faces were flushed and their lips cracked. A disheveled man came out the trailer and shook his head. At this the crowd ambled over to a pipe sticking up out of the ground and started fiddling with some dials on a nearby control box.
"That's Dick Lawson," Scott said, pointing to the disheveled man, who was now messing with the box as well. "He works for the city. Shit, he must think there's drinking water in the damn aquifer. Idiot doesn't know it's salt. Stay close to me. I have a feeling Jack is in the trailer."
"Whoa whoa whoa."
"What?"
"What do you mean 'what?' You're holding a fucking headcrusher and I got nothing."
"I'm not looking for violence."
"And I wasn't looking to be a dad but shit happens."
"So get a weapon."
"Where? You want me to throw this Alanis Morissette CD at them? Alanis Morissette, man! Tell me you got this free from Columbia House or something."
Scott grabbed the CD and threw it in the backseat. "Leave the damn CDs alone. There's an emergency roadside kit in back. I think it's got a mini crowbar thing in it. Grab that."
Cam climbed into the back, wondering why his brother-in-law had such shitty taste in music. Not that this was the time to discuss it, he thought, but it was better than focusing on the impending violence the need for a weapon implied. He found the crowbar in question. It was just as Scott had described, a smaller version of an actual crowbar, definitely enough to do some damage. He hefted it in his hand and gave it a swing, almost shattering the back window.
"Try not to bust the truck, I'm still paying for it," Scott said.
"Alanis Morissette," Cam replied, as if that answered everything.
The front door opened and Scott got out. Cam opened the rear door and met him around the front.
The first thing he noticed was how hot the air was. They were near the ocean but there wasn't any of the usual breeze coming off it. The smell of salt and brine, usually strong and thick, was nonexistent. Not to mention everyone was kicking up dirt and sand, making the air as abrasive as sandpaper.
Cam's thirst went up a notch. His belly rumbled and spit, and he felt a dull ache begin near his intestines. Parts of him felt itchy with dryness. He needed a drink soon. Real soon. Even the ocean water Scott said was under the ground didn't seem like such a bad idea right now. At least it would be water.
God, he was so damned thirsty.
"What's going on, Dick?" Scott shouted.
Cam noticed his brother-in-law's lips were beginning to split. He was sweating, and the pigment was draining from his face, which meant he was losing whatever fluids he still had left.
The man messing with the control box looked up. "Mr. Fitch?"
"Scott."
"Yeah, Scott. I remember you."
"Where's Jack?"
Dick suddenly looked like a man under the beam of a police flashlight. Bad deeds were written into the creases around his dry, red eyes.
"Where's Jack?" Scott repeated.
"In the trailer. He had water, Scott. We just wanted to share it. That's all. Don't think we planned for it to happen-"
Cam barely had time to notice Scott wasn't standing beside him anymore; his brother-in-law took off like a bullet, leaving him to stare down twelve or thirteen men (and one woman) by himself. Each one looked desperate. Real fucking scared. Like civilized thought had suddenly become an archaic idea. The need for water was cutting rationality into slices of primal instinct, and Cam was keenly aware that he was outnumbered.
Slowly, he waved to Dick, friendly-like, and made his way into the trailer. He even smiled like a dumb asshole to show he was no threat.
Inside, he found Scott leaning over a man's body, feeling its neck for a pulse. The man's head had a huge gash in it, and blood was pooled underneath it. At least our blood hasn't dried up, Cam thought. "That Jack?" he asked.
"Was, anyway."
"They killed him? Oh shit, tell me they didn't kill him."
"They didn't kill him."
"Seriously?"
"Wake up, Cam. Yes, they killed him."
"Good old Fitch sarcasm. Thought that was Becky's trait?"
"Runs in the family. Look out."
Snatching the security club off the table where he'd laid it, Scott rushed back outside. Through the window Cam watched as he ran up to Dick and got in the man's personal space. Heated words filled the air between them. Dick was saying something about Jack having drinking water, but when Cam looked around, he didn't see anything with water in it. Nothing was even wet.
"He had a cup of water," Dick yelled. "We're fucking dying of thirst and you fucking scientists have got water, so don't act like-"
"Nobody has water," Scott answered, the club in front of him like a sword. "You murdered him."
"You don't even look thirsty. How is that? Do you have water, too?"
"Why? Are you going to kill me?"
The crowd started circling around Scott, some of them carrying tools, others with fists balled. They think he has water, Cam realized. They're going to rush him and then what? Then I'll be left alone with these crazies. They probably assume I'm a scientist too. I have to get Scott out of here.
"Scott," Cam yelled, stepping back out into the open air, making mental notes of who was carrying what and how quickly he could make it to the SUV. He might even get away, if the keys were in the ignition. Of course they wouldn't be, because this wasn't a movie.
So, really, he was fucked.
"Cam, get Jack's body and put it in the truck," Scott said without looking back. Then to Dick: "He has a wife."
"And he'd be seeing her if he'd just shared his water," Dick said. "He wouldn't give us any. That's murder in my eyes. So maybe we're even Steven now." Dick pointed to the control box, said, "Tell us how to operate this thing so we can get some too. We know it's down there. You're keeping it from us."
For the first time, Cam noticed that some of the people were opening a valve on the tube sticking up from the ground. The aquifer was under there, and in it vast quantities of sea water, or so Scott said.
"You drink the water that's down there and you'll die, too."
The crowd roared. Someone shouted, "Make him get it," another yelled, "Break his fingers until he tells."
Jesus, Scott, Cam thought, just fucking tell them.
He didn't have to. All Dick's button pressing and knob turning caused a small geyser to shoot from the pipe. The people rushed at it, shoving and pushing as they threw their mouths over it. A couple of them coughed and gagged, the sea water caustic in their system, but they kept gulping. It looked so refreshing even Cam was tempted.
"No need," Dick said, smiling. "Now we've got your water."
"You're an idiot, Dick. You and your friends are going to die sooner if you drink that. Be my guest."
As Scott made his way back to the trailer all Cam could think was, thank God. It's not that he couldn't hold his own in a fight-there'd been a few rough nights at the bar when he'd assisted the bouncers with rowdy drunks-but two against thirteen was a losing battle.
"Come on," Scott said, climbing back in the trailer. "Help me get his body."
"Shouldn't we call the cops?"
"Cops don't care about this. No one's answering 911. When we get home we barricade the house and load Dad's gun. Can you shoot?"
"Hell yeah."
"I mean really shoot, not just think you can because you played Nintendo or something."
"Yeah, I've shot guns. I'll manage."
"Good. We need a tarp or something, check that storage closet over there. The combo for the lock is 11-9-64, Jack's birthday."
Cam stepped over the body and undid the lock on the storage closet. The front door was bent inward and marred like someone had been trying to break into it. No doubt the crazies outside thought Jack had hidden something in it.
When he flung wide the door he saw they were right.
Cam backpedaled over to where Scott was rolling the body up on its side. "Um, Scott..."
"Find a tarp?"
"Found something else."
The words were mysterious and weighty enough to cause Scott to spin around with the Club in his hand. Slowly, he lowered it by his side as they both looked at the collection of jars on the shelves in the closet. Each had about a quarter cup of water in it. There were maybe twenty jars total.
"They were right," Cam said. "Jack had water."
As if afraid to touch them, Scott hesitantly took one out, popped off its lid, and drank the liquid inside. When he was done he licked his lips and sighed. "It's water. Drinkable. How the hell did he save all this? In glass jars? We tried glass."
"Maybe the closet protected it?"
"No. Nothing hermetic about this storage closet."
Cam didn't answer, just rushed to the nearest jar, tore its lid off and drank it down. "Oh fucking Christ that's good."
From outside came several yells as the people around the observation well continued to gulp down the sea water. Cam gripped his weapon a little tighter, seeing that Scott was doing the same. If any of the people outside saw there was water in here, they were as good as dead.
"Here." Scott rushed over and made sure the door was locked. "Pour all the water into that jug there on the bottom shelf, and then put it in that box there. We'll say it's Jacks belongings. Leave one full jar for the idiots outside."
"Why leave anything? They're murderers."
"Because I'm not. But I'm not rewarding them for this either."
As quickly as he could, Cam tore the covers off the jars and filled the small plastic jug. When he was done, he had about a half gallon of water. He snapped the lid on top of it, held it closed and shook it to make sure it was sealed up tight. "We got to get this home to Cobe and Becky quick. I think it's already evaporating."
"It isn't evaporating. It's just disappearing," Scott said, checking out the window on the people at the pump. "If it was just evaporating we'd be pulling it from the air and there'd be ice...in the...freezer."
The way Scott's voice slowed concerned Cam. "What're you looking at?"
"The ground around the well should be a hell of a lot more wet than that. If I had time I could calculate the rate of loss-"
"I'll calculate it: fast. Real fucking fast. How's that?"
"Close enough. Okay, we're gonna have to hurry."
"Are we still taking Jack?"
Turning away from the window, Scott went over and tried to lift Jack's body up. Cam could tell the corpse was heavy, probably somewhere in the realm of 200 pounds. It would take a good many minutes to get him in the truck before they could leave. If the water was still disappearing as fast as it was, that was time they couldn't afford to lose.
Scott must have known this because he whispered something in Jack's ear, something sorrowful by the look of it, and then stood up. "We'll come for him later."
"What's that?" Cam pointed to a saucepan on the floor of the closet. The inside of the pan was coated with a white powder and bits of what looked like sand.
"Don't know," Scott said, picking it up and smelling it. He rubbed his hand over it, covering his fingers in white powder, and brought his fingers to his mouth. Tentatively, he licked them. "Shit. So that's how he did it. It's third grade science."
"Did what?"
Scot smiled. "This powder, it's-"
"You son of a bitch."
Cam spun around, found Dick peeking in through the window, his face covered in salt water and his eyes bulging and pink. He was staring at the water jug in Cam's arms, fixated on the liquid inside.
Before Cam had time to think, Dick was smashing the window with a rock and screaming, "Water! They have water!"
Everything went to hell real fucking fast.
The window in the door exploded as a lead pipe crashed through it, glass shards flying inward at Cam and Scott like angry wasps. Sunburned arms thrust through the broken window like something out of a zombie movie and undid the lock. At the same time, Dick was almost all the way through the window, his eyes locked on the salvation in Cam's arms.