Pirate - Duncan Falconer [64]
Stratton decided to leave the girl to sleep a while longer. The more rest she got the better. He crawled through the bush to the edge of the scrub from where he could see the water. He checked left and right. There was no sign of danger. He was going to have to break cover at some time. It would get darker yet but he estimated it was enough for him to get to the water and back.
He moved out, keeping low, covering the open ground in seconds. When he reached the water, he laid down on his belly. It smelled OK although it was hard to see how clear it was. He couldn’t hold back any longer, convincing himself that no matter how bad it was he would live longer with poisoned water than without it. He dipped his face into the cool liquid and gulped in several deep mouthfuls. He immediately fought to control a coughing fit, plunging his head into the water and coughing violently, the noise muffled. He came back up for air and with some difficulty managed to bring the fit under control. The sudden liquid had been too much for his parched throat. A moment later he felt ready for more.
Stratton made an effort to drink as slowly as he could. The water had a strange taste but he was past caring. It was wonderful to feel it flowing down his throat. When he’d had his fill, he doused his head again, rinsing his hair and washing his face. He could feel the life flowing back into him. It was magical.
Stratton made his way back to the girl and gently squeezed her arm. She woke with a start and was afraid for a moment until she realised who he was and where they were.
‘It’s OK. Everything’s fine,’ he said.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts, her hand going to her throat.
‘Go get a drink,’ he said.
She got to her knees and headed through the brush.
‘Drink slowly,’ he whispered after her.
He followed, suspecting she hadn’t heard. As he reached the bank, she was already at the water. It was dark enough to almost conceal her from him. She began to cough violently but only for a few seconds as she muffled her mouth. She brought the spasm under control and put her mouth into the water once again.
He joined her for another drink. It would take several hours for them to recover from the effects of the dehydration.
When she had had her fill, she sat by the water gently dabbing her face with the bottom of the shirt.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘Better,’ she replied.
‘You ready for the next phase of this game?’
‘The ship?’
‘I still think it’s our best bet out of here.’
‘What if they search it?’
Stratton saw the fear in her eyes. It hadn’t been there the day before. The memories of the previous night had clearly frightened her.
‘We’ll make an assessment when we get there.’
She took another drink before rinsing her hair.
‘How’re your feet?’ he asked.
She threw back her hair and sat cross-legged to inspect them. ‘I need to make myself some new shoes.’
She set about tearing more cloth from the bottom of her trousers and fashioning them into a sandal. ‘Did you kill him?’ she asked.
Stratton didn’t answer.
‘I wish I could have done that for Jimlen,’ she said, like she knew he was uncomfortable with the question. ‘Did you?’ she asked again.
He believed he had. But he couldn’t be sure.
‘Do you feel guilty?’ she asked.
He flashed a look at her. She was direct. ‘What about?’ he asked.
‘You didn’t need to leave him behind when you escaped to search the ship. Why did you?’
It felt like a punch. ‘The job comes with risks,’ he said. ‘Hopper knew them. You know that too.’
‘You would do well in my business,’ she murmured.
He wondered why she had said that, feeling a tinge of resentment towards her. Like she had an arrogance, talking like she understood all the issues involved. But perhaps it was his guilt again. Something inside of him trying to defend it.
His ears picked up a sound and he stuck out a hand, warning her to be silent. She froze at the gesture. Then she heard the sound herself. A stick snapped followed by more similar noises. The dull crunch of footsteps in the dry, stony soil became a