Page 91 of The Island

“The kids?”

“Hanging on.”

“Owen?”

“Yes.”

“I got the water.”

“I’ll give it to him. I’ve done first aid; I’ll rehydrate him carefully.”

Heather followed Petra to the beach.

Petra gave them the water.

Heather watched them drink.

It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen in her life.

Petra drank and then, finally, Heather drank.

The kids started to revive. Within minutes, they were alert and chatting to each other. Amazing how resilient they could be.

Amazing.

She asked Petra to come and talk to her.

“What is it?” Petra asked when they were out of earshot.

“I got hit by two shotgun pellets. You’re going to have to dig them out with the penknife. One’s in the back of my arm, one’s in my shoulder. I can show you exactly where, and there’s good starlight.”

Petra looked skeptically at the stars and waning sliver of moon and shook her head. “Show me,” she said.

Heather took off her T-shirt and bra and lay down on the beach. “Can you see?”

“Perhaps we should wait until morning.”

“No. Now, please. I don’t know how it works but…I think…the danger of infection.”

“I can try, if you want. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll…OK. I’ll get something for you to bite on.”

“Talk to me about something.”

“What?” Petra asked.

“Holland…no, that thing you were talking about. The dream lines.” Heather put a twig between her teeth.

“Yes. I’ve been reading a lot about that since I got here. It’s quite interesting. The Aboriginal people were often nomadic, following what they thought of as dream lines through an actual geography that was also a mythological landscape. By following these ancient routes, they believe that they sang the Earth into being…”

The pellet in the arm wasn’t hard to find. It was embedded in the fat just above the elbow. Petra rummaged with her finger and got it out easily. “One gone,” she said.

The shoulder pellet, however, would have to be dug out with the penknife.

For some reason, Petra was talking about the Sex Pistols now. “And that is why Johnny Rotten talks about England’s Dreaming. England has to reimagine its own mythological future and…”

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