The Great Thirst Boxed Set by Mary C Findley

Author:Mary C Findley [Findley, Mary C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Serial Archaeological Mystery Combined Set
Publisher: Findley Family Video Publications
Published: 2016-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

Later, after a hazy period of sleeping and possibly fainting, Talia made Jiggly swallow some more water, sipped some herself, and shared a tube of peanut butter with him, or tried. Aimlessly she wandered farther back into the tunnel, and almost fell into the yawning cavern where it ended, with a rushing river disappearing below the jagged edge.

“This … wasn’t here before,” she commented, and shocked herself by being somewhat able to hear the words. She stared down at the chasm. How far down is that water? Too far. But where does it go? The wrong way, she had to conclude, watching it foam and froth and disappear under the rocks beneath her feet. She sat down. The name Saraswati-Ghaggar-Hakra started rolling around in her head, a cross between a song and a chant, matching the rhythm of the water. “Even if the river ran the right way, I haven’t got a stick of wood, much less a raft or a boat. Somebody smarter than me will have to figure out how Jiggly and I can get out of here.”

She kept staring at the water and rolling Saraswati-Ghaggar-Hakra around inside her head. After awhile she got up and checked Jiggly. He had a fever and shuddered at her touch. She slid the water bottle between his lips and he jerked and made her spill the rest of it.

She stared at the puddle of water as it disappeared into Jiggly’s matted, filthy shirt. “Keith is smarter than me, right, Lord?” she asked. It was good to hear her own voice again. It was starting to sound close to normal. She wished she could hear Jiggly’s annoying voice, too, but so far he hadn’t said anything.

Keith. “He’s going to come for me. When I was tapping Alive, I heard somebody tap back, Coming, before I lost the phone, didn’t I? Didn’t I, Lord? Oh, please tell me someone’s coming.” Please.

She dug in her pack, pulled out her paracord and the little grappling hook, tied the bottle’s neck securely, and spent a long time dangling it down into the water, gradually filling and spilling and filling again, until she had most of a bottle. She bathed Jiggly’s face and head, dropped a purifying tablet in, and made him drink. The game of filling and using the water kept her occupied for some time. She tried to apply more antiseptic to Jiggly’s shoulder and to ignore the angry swelling. Neither she nor Jiggly had kept their watches. The light that seemed to penetrate the rockslide that had once been a well was too uniformly gray to give her an idea of whether it was night or day.

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