Chapter 53.
Death Valley
Lopez finds the cache.
Not a miracle pond. Not salvation.
A buried black case half hidden by windswept sand at the base of a low wash.
Lopez is kneeling over it, having half dug it out of the sand with his bare hands. When Jimmy reaches him his hands are working at the latches.
He doesn’t seem to be particularly surprised to see Jimmy standing behind him.
Lopez glances up, squinting through sweat. His face is wet, but not from water—just the body trying to survive.
“You Americans love your stories,” Lopez says. “Hero. Villain. Betrayal.”
“You didn’t answer,” Jimmy says.
Lopez taps the case. “This is why I came.”
“I said you weren’t going to return to us,” Jimmy says. “Not to the group. Not to Alek.”
Lopez’s mouth twitches—almost amused.
Then he opens the case. Inside: two sealed water bladders, a cheap plastic measuring cup, electrolyte packets, and a folded note.
Lopez reads the note out loud, mocking the tone without changing it. “Congratulations,” he says. “You earned water.”
Jimmy’s knees almost give out at the sight of the bladders.
He grabs one, tears it open with his teeth, drinks like an animal. Then he forces himself to stop. “Alek,” he rasps. “We have to get this to Alek.”
Then Lopez makes a quick move with his right hand. He draws a switchblade and flicks it open.
Jimmy tries to step away.
Lopez smiles. “I’m not going to stab you. I may be a fierce competitor, but I’m no killer. We’ll need this knife to bring back water.”
He flicks the knife toward the measuring cup, then toward the electrolyte packets.
Lopez nods toward the wash. “You want to carry her, you need her conscious. You want her conscious, you ration.”
Jimmy swallows hard, forces his voice steady.
“Then we ration.” He nods.