Page 19 of Rok's Captive
“One person alone is even more dangerous,” Erika objects.
“One person with most of the water,” Mikaela clarifies. “Enough to make it there and back. The rest of us can ration even more carefully for a day or two.”
More debate follows, but eventually, reluctantly, we come to a consensus of sorts. One person will go, leaving at first light tomorrow when it’s coolest. They’ll take a three day’s worth of water and an emergency blanket that will double as a signal flag.
“So who goes?” Pam asks what we’re all thinking.
Silence falls over the group.
“I’ll go,” I volunteer, surprising myself. “It was my idea.”
“No. Way.” Jacqui is immediately by my side, brows diving to her nose. “I’m not letting you?—”
“We should draw for it,” Erika interrupts. “That’s the only fair way.”
After some discussion, we agree. Those too injured to make the journey are exempt. Everyone else’s name goes into the selection.
We have no straws to draw, no slips of paper to pull from a hat. Instead, Erika collects one used hydration packet and cuts it into strips of different lengths, keeping them hidden in her hand.
“Shortest straw goes,” she says.
One by one, we step forward and select. Jacqui pulls a long one and visibly relaxes. Mikaela’s is even longer. Hannah, Pam, Tina and all the other women—all draw straws longer than half the original length.
When my turn comes, I reach out with steady fingers and select my straw.
It’s barely half an inch long.
“Shit,” Jacqui breathes.
I stare at the tiny piece of plastic in my palm, my heart sinking to my feet even as a strange calm settles over me.
“No,” Jacqui shakes her head vehemently. “No, this is bullshit. I’m going instead.”
“That’s not how it works,” Erika says gently, but her voice is firm.
“We all agreed to the draw,” Mikaela adds.
“It’s okay, Jaqs,” I say, closing my fingers around the straw. “I’ll be fine.”
But I’m sure Jacqui isn’t convinced.I’mnot convinced. But someone has to go search for help, we all know that. Our water won’t last forever, and we have injured people who need real medical care. Still, knowing all that doesn’t make it any easier to be the one who drew the short straw.
Jacqui grabs my arm, her fingers digging in. “You don’t have to do this. We can draw again?—”
“And what if I draw it again?” I meet her eyes. “What if someone else does? We’d just be back here, having the same argument.”
“Then we all go together!”
My throat tightens. My heart hurts. I don’t want to go. But I have to. I shake my head. “You know we can’t do that. We can’t carry the injured ones, and the bus is the only shelter we can see for miles.”
“Then I’ll come with you?—”
“No.”
Jacqui looks stunned for a moment. Maybe it’s my tone of voice. I rarely speak to her like this. As if my word is final. But if I don’t know anything, I know I can’t let her come with me.
I’m the reason she’s on this survival “job” in the first place. If anything happens out there…I’d never forgive myself. I’ve already lost my mother…I can’t…
“No.” I say again, softer this time. The lump in my throat feels jagged as I swallow hard, watching the tears rise in Jacqui’s eyes.
