Plague
Page 11

 Michael Grant

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“I hired you to dig a hole, not play around,” Albert said.
“It’s hard,” one said. “It keeps filling up.”
“I know it’s hard. It won’t get any easier. And if you want to eat, you work.”
“We were just taking a break.”
“Break’s over. Get on those shovels.”
Albert turned and walked away with Jamal in his wake.
“Those kids are flipping you off, boss,” Jamal reported.
“Are they digging?”
Jamal glanced back and reported that they were.
“As long as they do their work they can flip me off all they like,” Albert said.
It was then that Roscoe came up to report his haul from Hunter. And to tell Albert a crazy story about Hunter’s shoulder biting him.
“Look,” Roscoe said and held out his hand for Albert’s inspection.
Albert sighed. “Save the crazy stories, Roscoe,” he said.
“It’s like, like, green, kind of,” Roscoe said. “I’m not the Healer or Dahra,” Albert said.
But as he walked away something nagged at the edges of Albert’s thoughts: the wound really had looked a bit green.
Someone else’s problem. He had plenty of his own.
It was then that he spotted someone lying on the sand, just lying there like he might be dead. Far down the beach.
He felt in his pocket for the map.
Was it time? He glanced back at the still. The hopeless still.
His insides squirmed a little at what he was about to do. Panic would not be good. Everyone was on edge, weird, freaked since Mary’s dramatic suicide and attempted mass murder.
The people could not take another disaster. But disaster was coming. And when it hit, if there was panic, then Sam would be needed here in town.
But there was no one else Albert could trust with the mission he had in mind. Sam would have to go. And Albert would have to hope that no new disaster arose while he was gone.
Sam felt a shadow.
He squinted one eye open. Someone was standing over him, face blanked by the sun behind him.
“Is that you, Albert?” Sam asked.
“It’s me.”
“I recognize the shoes. I don’t feel good,” Sam said.
“Would you mind sitting up? I have something important to talk to you about.”
“If it’s important, go talk to Edilio. He’s in charge.”
Albert waited, refusing to speak. Finally, with a sigh that became a groan, Sam rolled over and sat up.
“This is just between us, Sam,” Albert said.
“Yeah, that always works out so well when I keep secrets from the council,” Sam said sarcastically. He rubbed his hair vigorously to knock some of the sand out.
“You’re not on the council anymore,” Albert said reasonably. “And this is about a job. I want to hire you.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Everyone already works for you, Albert. What’s the problem? Does it bother you that I don’t?”
“You liked it better when no one was working and everyone was starving?”
Sam stared up at him. Then he made an ironic two-finger salute. “Sorry. I’m in a lousy mood. Bad night followed by bad morning. What’s up, Albert?”
“There’s a big problem with the water supply.”
Sam nodded. “I know. As soon as the gas runs out we’re going to have to relocate the whole town up to Evian.”
Albert tugged at his pants, then sat down carefully on the sand. “No. First of all, the water level in Lake Evian is dropping faster than ever. There’s no rain here. And it’s a small lake. You can see where it’s dropped from, like, ten feet deep to half that.”
Albert pulled a folded map from his pocket and opened it. Sam scooted closer to see.
“This isn’t a very good map. It’s too big to show much detail. But see this?” He pointed. “Lake Tramonto. It’s like a hundred times bigger than Evian.”
“Is it inside the FAYZ?”
“I drew this circle with a compass. I think at least part of Lake Tramonto is inside the barrier.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Dude, it’s, like, what, ten miles from here?”
“More like fifteen.”
“Even if it’s there and even if the water is drinkable, how are we going to bring it down to Perdido Beach? I mean, look.” Sam traced lines with his finger. “Going or coming back it’s right through coyote country. And that would take a lot more gas, that drive. I mean, a lot more.”
“I don’t think my saltwater still is going to work,” Albert admitted. He gazed moodily down the beach toward his work crew. “Even if it does, it may not produce enough.”
Sam took the map from him and studied it intently. “You know, it’s weird. I kind of forgot there were such things as paper maps. I always used to use Google maps. Maps dot Google dot com. Remember those days? What’s this?”
Albert peered over the edge of the map. “Oh, that’s the air force base. But look, it’s pretty much all on the other side. The runway, the buildings and all. Why? Were you hoping to find a jet fighter?”
Sam smiled. “That might be useful if it came with a pilot. It’s one thing for Sanjit to crash-land a helicopter. It’s a whole different thing flying a Mach two jet around inside a twenty-mile-wide fishbowl. No. I don’t know what I was hoping for. Maybe a magic ray gun that could blow holes through the barrier.”