Chapter Fifteen Pump Six
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Pump Six
Pump Six sat under a dry lake.
Eden would have missed it without Caro's film.
The surface looked like ordinary alkali flat, cracked white plates stretching to low hills. No building. No tower. No access road.
Only seven blue ceramic posts arranged in a curve.
Pressure markers.
Eden counted them.
"Center."
Rhett looked at the ground.
"You're telling me a pump station is under us."
"Yes."
"Of course."
They found the hatch beneath a salt crust.
Caro's key opened it on the first turn.
Eden stopped with her hand on the metal.
Rhett waited.
This was it.
Not the reservoir.
The door.
Caro had been here.
Maybe stood on the same ladder.
Maybe touched the same rust.
Eden opened the hatch.
Cool air rose from darkness.
Rhett switched on the lamp.
"After you."
"Because I'm smaller?"
"Because it's your key."
She climbed down.
The ladder descended twenty feet into a concrete chamber.
The air smelled of iron, mineral, and something green.
Water.
Eden's heart began to pound.
At the bottom, pipes crossed the walls in blue and black. Gauges sat under glass. A manual wheel taller than Eden occupied the western wall.
A cistern hatch stood open.
Rhett reached it first.
He shone the light inside.
Water reflected.
Not much.
Maybe three feet deep in a chamber six by eight.
Eden laughed.
Rhett did too.
He lowered a sampling cup.
They tested the water with strips from the kit.
Salt low.
Metal acceptable.
No acid.
Rhett tasted a drop.
Then another.
"Clean."
Eden sat on the floor.
The relief was too large for dignity.
Rhett filled both canteens.
Then he drank slowly.
No greed.
No desperate gulp.
He had survived long enough to know water could kill a thirsty person if taken too fast.
Eden drank.
Cool water hit her stomach.
She closed her eyes.
For a minute, nothing else mattered.
Then Rhett started filling every container they had.
Of course.
Eden searched the control panels.
Caro's orange thread appeared on a lever.
Her throat tightened.
Beneath it, scratched into steel:
WEST FEED LOCKED. R3 LIVE. MANUAL BYPASS ONLY.
Saint Mercy Gorge.
Forty-seven miles.
Eden found a maintenance book sealed inside a metal box.
Pages stuck.
She peeled them carefully.
The final entries were from the first year after the Burn.
RESERVOIR 3 EMERGENCY ISOLATION. AUTOMATIC FEED FAILED. MANUAL BYPASS AT SMG REQUIRED. EST. VOLUME 2.4M GAL AT ISOLATION.
Rhett came beside her.
"Two point four million."
"At isolation."
"Could be more if recharge happened."
"Could be none."
He looked at her.
She sighed.
"Likely not none."
"Progress."
Another page carried a hand note.
P6 access key duplicated for C. Flint.
Eden touched the name.
Caro had not stolen the key.
She had been authorized.
There had been a salvage team.
A plan.
People trying to keep water moving before factions turned every useful thing into territory.
Rhett's radio crackled.
Both froze.
A weak transmission.
"...Rhett... Split Rock..."
Mina.
He grabbed it.
"Mina."
"Finally."
Her voice was faint but clear.
"We're at Split Rock. Twenty-three gallons. Tollhouse scouts north and east."
Rhett looked at the cistern.
"We found water."
Silence.
Then cheering exploded behind Mina's microphone.
Rhett closed his eyes.
Eden smiled.
"How much?" Mina asked.
"Enough for us. Not enough for Dustline. Bigger reservoir west. Forty-seven miles."
"Coordinates?"
Eden took the radio.
"Do not transmit."
Mina went quiet.
"Tollhouse listens."
"Then how do we reach you?"
Eden unfolded Caro's film.
"Stay Split Rock until dusk. Then take old rail line west to Marker Seventeen. There'll be a twin ridge north of it. Camp in the saddle."
"How far from you?"
"Twenty-nine miles."
"Water won't last."
"Cut vehicles. Leave the bus if you have to."
Rhett looked at her.
She continued.
"Send two bikes with empty cans after dark. No lights. Use rail shadow."
Mina's voice sharpened.
"Who put you in charge?"
Eden opened her mouth.
Rhett took the radio.
"I did."
She stared at him.
The words traveled through her harder than they should have.
Mina said, "All right."
No argument.
Rhett handed the radio back.
Eden ended transmission.
"You didn't put me in charge."
"No."
"Then why say it?"
"Because Mina asked who was responsible for the route. I am responsible for choosing you."
Eden hated how much that answer mattered.
"You trust the route."
"I trust you to read it."
Not the same as trusting her completely.
Better.
More specific.
They filled containers.
Rhett searched the storage lockers and found two sealed water bladders.
Eden found a wall map of the western feed.
Saint Mercy Gorge lay forty-seven miles away.
Reservoir Three sat beyond it under a basalt mesa.
The route crossed **Mirror Salt**, a dry basin notorious for sinkholes.
Caro had marked one alternate route in orange.
OLD PIPE WALK. NO VEHICLES.
Rhett read it.
"Of course."
"The convoy can't use that."
"No."
"They'll have to cross Mirror Salt."
"If we open the reservoir first, we can meet them with water."
Eden nodded.
The logic was clean.
Reality would not be.
A sound came from above.
Metal.
The hatch.
Rhett shut off the lamp.
They stood in darkness.
Footsteps on the ladder.
One person.
Then another.
Rhett raised his rifle with difficulty.
Eden drew her knife.
A lantern appeared.
A woman descended.
Pale coat.
Black circle at her throat.
Sabra Kest reached the floor and looked at Eden.
Her face was almost fond.
"There you are."
Behind her came four armed Tollhouse riders.
Rhett aimed.
Three rifles aimed back.
Sabra smiled.
"Please don't make the water dirty."
Eden's pulse slowed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Sabra had been twenty feet away from her across market tables.
Had paid her for route changes.
Had once offered her a permanent bed, steady food, and more silver than Glass Road earned in a month.
Eden had thought the woman greedy.
She had not understood scale.
"How did you find the hatch?" Eden asked.
Sabra's smile widened.
"I followed the man who found you."
Rhett went still.
Eden looked at him.
Sabra continued.
"Leadership leaves such convenient tracks."
For the first time since they met, Eden saw real guilt cross Rhett's face.
Sabra had followed Dustline first.
Then him.
Maybe Eden had never been the only target.
Sabra gestured toward the maintenance book.
"Now. Let's talk about Reservoir Three."