by Cathy Hapka
What if it takes days for anyone to find me? Jack wondered. How am I supposed to survive on less than a full canteen of water and . . .
He dug into his pockets to see exactly what else he had. In addition to the spare pair of shorts, he found his plant-identification book, the notebook he'd been writing in, and his magnifying glass, which had cracked in the fall. He also found his small bag of nuts and dried berries, though he had eaten more than half of it earlier in the day, and Ty's root digger, which might have done Jack some good closer to the coast or in a seep oasis or other irrigated area. But few edible roots grew in the open desert, and Jack had no idea how to find those that might exist in such a dry wasteland.
His shoulders slumped as he stared at the paltry assortment of items spread on the sand in front of him, trying to calculate how long the tiny amount of food and water would last.
I can't believe this is happening, he thought. If only Ty hadn't played that stupid whistling prank on me, we would have been with the rest of the group when the sandstorm hit. One-Toe would have stayed with the other Aepys instead of panicking because he was on his own. . . .
He clenched his fists. This was all Ty's fault! And Jack wasn't going to let him get away with it. The next time he saw Ty, he was going to tell him exactly what he thought of his idiotic jokes.
If I survive to see him again, that is, Jack thought, his heart sinking.
Swallowing the scratchy dryness in his throat, he automatically reached for his canteen again. But before lifting it to his lips, he stopped. No. I have to conserve my water, ration it as much as possible.
He licked his lips, which felt dry and parched. Suddenly all he could think about was water—the cool, clear water in his canteen, the large jugs of water strapped to the pack Aepycamelus with the caravan. . . . Even the quiet, shady pool in Waterfall City where he'd learned to swim popped into his head.
Was this what caravaners meant when they told stories of stranded travelers going crazy with thirst? Was this how people felt as they staggered toward the Great Oasis on the horizon only to have it recede farther away with each weary step?
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had to figure out what to do. Maybe One-Toe stopped after I fell, he thought hopefully. Maybe he's not too far away.
Climbing to his feet again, he scanned the horizon. It was well past midday, and the sun had begun its slow march across the sky toward the western horizon. The featureless desert stretched out in every direction as far as Jack could see. There was no sign of a wandering Aepycamelus, or any other living thing.
“If I were a scared Aepy, which way would I run?” Jack murmured under his breath.
As he turned slowly on his heel, looking for any sign of life, he suddenly noticed a small, brightly colored object half-hidden in the sand a few hundred yards away. He peered at it, wondering if the heat and thirst were already making him see things. What was it?
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered.
He walked toward the mystery item, stumbling through the deep sand. For a moment the colorful object seemed to dance away, remaining just as far from him as when he'd started toward it. But that turned out to be an illusion. When Jack finally got close enough, he realized the item was a sandal, its straps woven out of strips of dyed cloth.
“Looks like Ty's,” he said out loud.
He picked up the lone sandal and stared at it. For the first time, he realized that Ty might be somewhere nearby—might be in trouble just like he was. After all, what could One-Toe have collided with other than Ty's Aepy? It was more than possible that the impact had jarred Ty from his saddle, too.
But then where was he? Jack glanced around again, his brow furrowed as he squinted against the brightness. Remembering that the storm had been moving to the northwest, sweeping the terrified Aepycamelus along with it, he started hiking in that direction. Maybe he could find a clue, some tracks that hadn't been swept away by the hot wind.
“Hello?” he called. “Hellooooo! Is anybody out there?”
There was no response. Jack walked on, though he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Maybe he should just stay put and wait for the caravan to find him.
“Hello?” he called, squinting at a lump in the sand. It wasn't moving. Still, something made him hurry toward it.
It was much too small to be One-Toe, even if he was lying down. But it was just about the right size to be—
“Ty!” Jack gasped, skidding to a stop beside the boy's motionless form.
CHAPTER 8
Jack felt panic grab him as he dropped to his knees at the other boy's side. Ty was lying on his back with his eyes shut tight and one arm flung out to the side. He hadn't responded to Jack's voice—he wasn't moving at all.
Trying to recall everything he'd ever read about first aid, Jack cautiously reached for Ty's outstretched arm. Ty's skin was warm to the touch, and Jack quickly managed to find the pulse beating strongly at his wrist.
Whew! Jack thought, almost limp with relief.
He moved closer, fished the spare shorts out of his pocket, and carefully wiped the area around Ty's eyes and mouth as clean as he could. Still Ty didn't move a muscle.
“Hey,” Jack said, feeling slightly foolish. “Wake up. Ty?”
For a moment it crossed his mind that this could be another prank. Maybe Ty was feigning unconsciousness to trick him.
To test the theory, Jack pinched him on the arm. Still no response. He poked him in the shoulder, then gently slapped his face. Nothing.
“Wake up,” Jack urged, his voice growing desperate. “Please? Come on, Ty—if this is a joke, it's really not funny.”
Sitting back on his heels, he watched the other boy's face for a moment. This was no joke. Ty was definitely unconscious, and he seemed to be staying that way. Now what was Jack supposed to do? He couldn't just leave him here—Ty's headscarf was gone, and the fair skin of his face was already looking pink under the gritty film of sand that covered it.
I have to do something, Jack told himself. Ty needs shelter, and we both need a plan. Should I try to shade his face somehow and then go look for help? Or stay here until he wakes up? If the caravan is still nearby, I don't want to let them wander off in the opposite direction because they don't know we're here. On the other hand, I might not be able to find Ty again if I leave him. . . .
He grimaced, all too aware that every moment he sat there trying to make up his mind was a moment wasted. But he'd never been in a situation like this before—the closest he'd come to any real emergency was in caravaners' tales or stories in scrolls. Besides, it wasn't easy to think clearly when he was so hot and thirsty.
Suddenly remembering his canteen, he grabbed it and stared at it. There was one more thing he'd read about, another way he could try to awaken Ty. Of course, if it failed to do the trick, it would mean precious water wasted.
He sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his brow. Opening the canteen, he carefully flicked a few drops of water onto the boy's face. Then a few more. But Ty didn't move.
“Come on,” Jack muttered. He still wasn't sure whether he was doing the right thing or just wasting water. What if Ty didn't wake up? What would he do then?
He shook out a few more drops, but his hands were trembling and he missed, flicking the droplets onto the hot, dry sand.
“Aargh!” he cried, annoyed with himself.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped the canteen tightly, willing his hands to stay steady. Leaning closer, he carefully dribbled more cool water onto Ty's hot cheeks and forehead.
This isn't working, Jack thought desperately. Now what am I supposed to—
Wait! Was the desert heat playing tricks on his mind, or had Ty just stirred?
“Come on, wake up!” Jack cried. Holding his breath, he shook the canteen over Ty's face once again. This time there could be no doubt—the other boy's shoulder twitched, and he let out a low moan.
Finally Ty's blue eyes flickered open, blinking and then
focusing on Jack's face.
“Whoa,” Ty murmured hoarsely. “Outstanding ride! Those Aepys sure can move when they want to. When I get back, I think I should try to set up some Aepy races—maybe hold some kind of championship. . . .”
Jack blinked, astonished that Ty's first waking thought was so frivolous. Didn't he realize the trouble they were in?
He bit back his annoyance as Ty struggled to sit up. Jack held up his canteen.
“Here,” he said. “Better drink a little of this—you're probably already dehydrated.”
“Thanks.” Taking the canteen, Ty tipped back his head and took a long swig.
Jack cringed as he calculated how much water Ty was drinking and how much would remain. Jack swallowed, his throat already feeling dusty and dry.
He comforted himself with the observation that the water seemed to help revive the other boy and clear his head. After handing the canteen back to Jack, Ty glanced around.
“Hey,” he said. “Where are the others?”
“Good question.” Jack stood and carefully hung the much lighter canteen at his belt. “We lost them in the sandstorm.”
“Oh.” Ty blinked in surprise. “Wow. That's not good.”
“No,” Jack agreed grimly. “It's not.”
Ty shrugged and brushed the sand off his legs. “Oh, well,” he said. “Guess they'll be back soon, right?” He leaned over and drew a crisscross pattern in the sand with his finger, then grinned at Jack. “How about a game of tic-tac-toe?”
“Are you kidding?” Jack blurted out. “Don't you realize how much trouble we're in right now? This isn't some stupid game, you know. We're in the middle of the desert, miles and miles from anywhere, with almost no food or water. It's only a few hours until dark. Our Aepys ran some unknown distance in some unknown direction, and the sandstorm probably wiped out any tracks that might have helped the others find us. It might take them days to figure out where we are—maybe weeks.”
“Oh.” Ty's face fell as Jack spoke. “Sorry. I guess I didn't really realize all that.”
Jack gulped, feeling a twinge of guilt for his harsh words. Obviously Ty hadn't just been goofing around. He simply hadn't understood the danger they were in.
“Anyway,” Jack went on in a quieter tone, “I think we need to come up with a plan.”
“You're right,” Ty instantly agreed. “No sense worrying about what already happened—it's time to look ahead.” He climbed to his feet, wincing. “Ow,” he commented. “Who ever said sand is soft? I feel like I just got run over by a herd of Diplodocus.” He wriggled his arms and legs experimentally, then smiled. “The good news is, I don't think anything's broken.”
“Good.”
“All right then,” Ty said, leaning forward to shake his head vigorously, sending sand flying out of his curls. “I guess there's just one thing to do—let's walk.”
“What do you mean?” Jack blinked at the other boy in confusion. “Walk where? We don't even know where we are.”
Ty shrugged. “Well, I know we're not where we want to be,” he said. “So just about anyplace would be an improvement, right?” He grinned.
“That's not funny,” Jack snapped, feeling his annoyance with Ty creeping back again. “Didn't we just go over this? We need to be serious—we're in real danger here.”
“I know, I know.” Ty rolled his eyes toward the sun-bleached sky. “Still, it's not going to do us any good to sit here moaning and groaning about it, right?”
“It's also not going to do us any good to wander aimlessly around the desert,” Jack pointed out.
“I wasn't suggesting that,” Ty replied calmly. “I thought we could figure out what direction the caravan probably went by the position of the sun and hike that way for a while. Plus we could leave a message here in the sand just in case the others do manage to track us, or in case the Aepys remember where we fell off and find their way here.”
Jack stared as Ty started hopping around in a flat area nearby, spelling out words in the footprint alphabet.
Ty stepped back and read his handiwork. Jack read it along with him:
HELP! TY AND JACK WENT THAT WAY.
“Okay, now all we have to do is figure out which way we want to go and draw the arrow . . . ,” Jack muttered, squinting up at the sky.
Jack had to admit it hadn't occurred to him to leave a message for searchers that way. It also hadn't occurred to him that One-Toe and Ty's Aepycamelus might be able to retrace their steps. Now that Ty had brought up the possibility, Jack was even less eager to tramp out across the desert than he had been before.
“How are we supposed to figure out which way to go?” Jack asked, trying to sound patient. “We don't have the slightest idea which direction the Aepys ran.”
“True,” Ty said. “But the caravan was heading southwest, right? So it makes sense for us to head that way, too.”
Jack shook his head. “How do we know we didn't run right past them in the sandstorm? Or we could have gone three miles due east, due west, or any other direction you could name.” Jack folded his arms across his chest. “No, it's just too risky. I think we'd better stay put. Maybe we can take turns shouting or whistling or something to help guide them to us. Aepys have pretty good hearing.”
Ty frowned and kicked at the sand. “Let me get this straight,” he said, for the first time sounding less than cheerful. “You want to sit around here just waiting for them to find us?”
“That's right,” Jack said stubbornly. “They know we're missing, and I'm sure they're already searching for us. If we wander off, we'll only make their job harder.”
Ty sighed loudly. “But you're the one who said they'll have no idea which direction we went, so what have we got to lose? Besides, you may like sitting still and pondering how many grains of sand there are in the desert or whatever it is you're always thinking about, but I'd rather try actually doing something.”
“Like getting further lost?” Jack countered. “Because that's where your plan would probably get us.” He forced a smile. “Hey, if we stay here we could play that game of tic-tac-toe you were talking about earlier.”
Ty stood silently for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. For a moment Jack thought he'd won the argument. But then Ty blew out a sharp, quick sigh.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “You can sit here and bake in the sun if you want. But I'm going to walk.”
Ty leaned over and scratched an arrow in the sand at the end of his message. Then he turned and walked off in the direction the arrow was pointing, about forty-five degrees south of the sun's track across the sky.
Jack bit his lip, unsure about how to respond. Ty wasn't bluffing—he didn't even glance back as he marched off toward the southwestern horizon. Jack kicked at the sand, wondering if he should go after him, try to convince him to change his mind.
Thunk.
The toe of his sandal connected solidly with something buried in the sand. Curious, he glanced down, kicking aside some of the sand. He uncovered a portion of a familiar-looking smooth, curved surface. A canteen!
He bent to retrieve it and was relieved to find that the cork was still in place and it was more than half full. It had to be Ty's—he must have lost it just before falling.
Jack glanced at the other boy, who was still hiking away. For a second Jack was tempted to let him go. It wasn't as if he was likely to get very far with no food or water. Jack could wait for the caravan himself; then they could follow Ty's tracks if he hadn't returned on his own yet.
But suddenly, as Jack watched Ty hike away, Cragnog's wise, calm voice floated into his head: “The first line in the Code of Dinotopia states, ‘Survival of all or none.'”
Jack winced, flashing back to those frightening moments when he'd thought he was all alone in the desert, and to the terror of finding Ty unconscious, which had made him feel more isolated than ever. He didn't want to relive those feelings. Not even if it meant compromising on what he thought was the best plan of action.
Wasn't
compromise an important part of being a team? Like it or not, he and Ty were a team now. They had to be, if they wanted to survive.
“Wait!” Jack called, hurrying after Ty. “I found your canteen. Besides, if you're going to drag your tail about this, I suppose we can try it your way.”
CHAPTER 9
“. . . and then I'm going to drink a couple of gallons of fruit juice, and then switch back to water again and drink another gallon or so of that, and then maybe I'll stop for some nuts or something to get me nice and thirsty again. And then I'll try some coconut milk if I can get some, and then maybe a little taste of groundcreeper tea. . . .”
Jack rolled his eyes. Ty had been talking nonstop since they'd set off an hour earlier, mostly about how much he was going to eat and drink once they were rescued. He didn't seem to be holding any grudges about their argument, though Jack couldn't stop thinking about it. Were they doing the right thing? Should he have stayed behind after all? He didn't know, and he didn't like the feeling of being so uncertain when every decision was so important. All he could do was insist on stopping every twenty minutes or so to leave another marker in the sand for their rescuers.
“. . . and then after I've had so much water I'm as full as an egg,” Ty was still jabbering on, “I'll dump all the extra right over my head.”
Glancing around at the arid landscape, Jack sighed. “I admit, I wouldn't mind taking a dip in a nice cool lake right now.”
“What do you mean?” Ty looked at him curiously. “You mean like wading or something?”
“Forget wading,” Jack replied. “It's not just my feet that are hot and sweaty right now. I was talking about a swim.”
“You can swim?” Ty sounded impressed. “Outstanding! When did you learn? It's not like we have a whole lot of swimming holes in good old Dribbling Spring.” He grinned. “Oh, unless you're talking about splashing in the irrigation runoff with the little kids.”
Jack wasn't sure whether to be insulted by the joke. Was Ty implying that he didn't believe Jack could swim?
“I learned when my family went to Waterfall City,” said Jack. “I was about seven, and this scientist—Mr. Stevens—was showing me around.” Jack smiled at the memory of the patient, bearded man. “Mr. Stevens thought every boy should know how to swim, fish, and build a fire from scratch. He only had time to teach me to swim, though. I practiced every day we were there in a quiet pool near the Shrine of Mystery, and on the last day Mr. Stevens and I swam all the way across the Pliosaur Canal.”
