Page 82 of The Storm Boys Series Collection

“You’re not funny.”

I wasn’t bein’ funny, but okay. “Yep, I’m hilarious.”

“These roots would make it impossible for crocs to navigate anyway,” he said, like I was lying to him about it.

“Like this? Correct. But I’m tellin’ ya, come high tide, we are back at the Jeep. Understood?”

He shot me a glance over his shoulder. I’m pretty sure he rolled his eyes.

We walked, climbed, and jumped over branches for a good while in silence. Our shoes were now sinking with each step, and all I could think about was our ability to get out of here once the water started coming in. Thankfully not too much further we came to a bit of a clearing in the mangroves.

I had my shirt off, dripping sweat. Jeremiah hung his backpack on a tree root, and liftin’ his shirt up, he wiped his face with it. “Christ, how do people live here?” he griped.

“You get used to it. Drink more water.”

He didn’t need telling twice. He sipped his bottle and wiped his face again.

“Take your shirt off,” I said.

“I think I’m better off with it on.”

“I think the view is better with it off.”

He glared.

I smiled.

“I’m immune to the smile now.”

I let my head fall back. “Aww. It’s my only party trick.”

He ignored me, and extending the tripod legs, he sunk it into the sand. “Help me get this set up.”

He went about setting all his contraptions up, checkin’ to see what readings he could get while I kept checking the water at our feet.

Dark storm clouds rumbled above us, expanding and rolling like living entities. Intra-cloud lightning sparked inside them and the wind picked up.

“Here, hold this,” he said, handing me the display screen. He positioned the small radar at the top of the auto-station, and while it rotated, the screen beeped. “This is gonna be a good one,” he said, excited.

For crying out loud.

“You know, I know this place is called Kakadu, but there’s probably more Kaka-don’ts than there are Kaka-do’s.”

Jeremiah sighed, deflated, and he deadpanned a stare at me. “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?”

I laughed. “A while.”

He rolled his eyes.

“But yeah, about the Kaka-don’ts,” I continued, “I’d probably think standing in the middle of the mangroves with an electrical storm brewin’ while holding a radar device up to the sky—while standing in two inches of sandy water—is high on that list.”

“You knew the risks,” he mumbled.

“What can I say,” I said flatly. “I didn’t want you to die alone.”

“I don’t plan on dying here today.”

“Pretty sure no one plans to get struck by lightning.”

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