CHAPTER NINE
Mackenzie wanted to know everything. After driving for about an hour, Lowe left his weather station to show Mackenzie the ropes. While he taught her about everything she needed to know, Vasseur was talking to Bell and Abbas up front and Jesse had vanished up into the hatch on the roof with his rifle to be lookout.
"So how is it you know about the hydrology stuff?" Mackenzie asked Lowe as she followed his instructions at the computer terminal. "I thought you were the doctor-slash-weatherman."
"I am," Lowe nodded. "But we make a point of always knowing the basics of everyone else's duties at a minimum. Just in case someone is incapacitated or dies on mission, then someone else can pick up the slack."
"Oh," was all Mackenzie could say, a little uncomfortable with how nonchalant Lowe was as he mentioned the possibility of anyone dying.
"You're picking up on this stuff pretty quick," Lowe observed as Mackenzie familiarised herself with the computer she was going to be using.
"Some of it's similar to what I did in the wells," Mackenzie shrugged, still feeling giddy with the thrill of doing something different for once. "It's a larger scale and way more advanced, but I think I get it."
"Okay then," Lowe grinned, standing over her and holding onto a handrail on the ceiling to keep steady as the truck rocked from side to side. "If you're so confident you got this down, how about you explain it to me?"
Mackenzie felt a moment of anxiety over being put on the spot, but she pushed the fear aside and pointed at the main monitor in front of her, which was showing a thermal image of nothing more than wavy red, orange and yellow lines that covered the bottom half of the screen, while the top half was blank.
"The computer reads the thermal layout of the land within a hundred yards," Mackenzie began. "As we drive, sensors under the truck scan for cooler areas that might contain water pockets and display the findings on this screen. I can adjust the direction each individual sensor is facing with these controls over here, to account for changes in weather temperatures, animal heat signatures, buried rocks, stuff like that. Over here, this screen shows similar readings from surface implant sensors that indicate where you've previously found water supplies that dried up or were too small to be of any value to Town. As we get within range of the signals, I can examine them for any changes on the off chance that the water supply has refilled from underground rivers or if a small water supply has increased to something more substantial. We'll make regular stops en route for me to examine soil for water traces and use portable devices to track possible water sources. If we find a water source, I can sample it in the field with my handheld devices to test for drinkability, then bring more samples back here to carry out further tests. Have I got it so far?"
Lowe clapped her on the shoulder, grinning like a proud father. "Inglis couldn't have explained it better himself. Good work."
Beaming, Mackenzie said, "Thanks, Lowe."
Suddenly, the computer began to emit a rapid, low-bass, beeping sound. Looking back to the screen, Mackenzie spotted something blue in the sea of reds, oranges and yellows. She pointed at it urgently.
"Hey, is that water?" she asked excitedly.
Lowe leaned closer to peer at the monitor, but quickly shook his head.
"No, definitely not. Water will show up more green than anything else. That's what we call a redox field. We find them every now and then." Then, raising his voice, he shouted, "Hey Bell! Redox field on our 10!"
"Roger that," Bell replied. "Steering clear."
"What is it?" Mackenzie asked, having never heard of a redox field.
"Dangerous is the first word that comes to mind," Lowe frowned. "It's this big area of stone slabs, really fragile flat rocks. Except they're hollow on the inside and have trapped gasses that are like a vaporized potassium chlorate. Not too dangerous by itself, but if the stone cracks, and they crack real easy, it escapes into the air and interacts with the exterior of the rock, which is coated in sugar of all things, then it oxidizes and ignites. Hydrogen escapes from the potassium gasses and then expands and explodes. The whole field could go up by just one stone cracking, wiping out anything and everything caught in the blast. And leaving an impressive crater behind, too."
"Are they useful? Like, could we mine for water with them?" Mackenzie asked, wondering if they should stop and dig some up.
"Well, maybe," Lowe said thoughtfully. "But they're far too fragile to risk handling, and we definitely don't want them in the truck. Just stepping on one can break it. If they blew, they'd tear Rhiannon apart. But Bell would kill us long before the redox stones would if we suggested bringing them on board. Best leave 'em where they are."
Mackenzie nodded, watching the blue patch on the screen that represented the redox field as they passed by, Bell giving it a wide berth.
Lowe scratched his chin thoughtfully as he studied Mackenzie. "You know, I hope you aren't offended I voted to bring Renaud over you."
Mackenzie felt her stomach lurch slightly at the mention of Ethan. Ignoring it and instead looking up at Lowe, she said, "No, of course not. He would have done a good job out here."
Lowe looked slightly relieved. "Good. I was worried you might hold a grudge. If it makes you feel any better, it was a really tough decision."
"It's okay, Lowe," Mackenzie insisted. "Really."
"Well all right," Lowe smiled. "Now, we might leave the machinery for the time being and I'll show you the lay of the land."
Lowe then guided Mackenzie from the main cabin and towards the rear, past Jesse's ladder and into the small area with six tightly packed bunks.
"Most of your time will be spent in that seat back there," Lowe began, "but even Diviners have to sleep. Down here, we've got our bunks. Yours is the bottom bunk here, closest to your station. You need to be up and working at a moment's notice, so no sleep-ins. We sleep in shifts, by the way. Four asleep, two at work, no exceptions. Bathroom is through that door back there, nothing more than a water reclaiming toilet and-"
"Wait," Mackenzie interrupted. "Wait, water reclaiming toilet? What exactly does that mean?"
Lowe grinned mischievously at her. "Well, we're out here for weeks at a time, you know. Not a whole lot of water to live off. When our supplies run low, the toilet purifies and recycles our, um... fluids into something drinkable. You okay with that?"
The thought actually horrified Mackenzie, but it was too late to back out now. And she didn't want to appear squeamish in front of Lowe, so she just shrugged and nodded.
"There are some soaps and disinfectants in there, too," Lowe went on. "It's not flashy, but it works. By the way, I hope you don't mind bad smells, because a few days in here with the lot of us and 'body odour' begins to take on a whole new meaning."
"I'll be fine," Mackenzie assured.
"You say that now," Lowe grinned. "Wait until tonight when Abbas kicks off his boots."
"Keep talking and I'll leave my socks in your pillow!" Abbas shouted from the front of the truck.
"What are the other two sections?" Mackenzie asked. "From outside it looks like the truck is separated into three compartments."
"Good catch," Lowe nodded approvingly. "You're right, there are three sections. There's the lovely cabin we're in now, of course. The next section is cold storage. We keep all our supplies in there, like water and food, and if we gather any resources on mission, we store that in there, too. Vasseur's in charge of rationing, we stop twice a day for food and water while Rhiannon's solar cells power up the truck and equipment. The back section is the armory. Extra guns, knives, ammo, some small explosives for when things get really hairy, but you won't need to go back there too often. That's Jesse's territory. He'll set you up with a gun when we next stop."
"I get a gun?" Mackenzie asked, surprised.
"Well, yeah," Lowe replied, as though it was obvious. "We didn't train you how to shoot for nothing, kid. All the dangerous wildlife out here, a gun is often the only thing between you going home or becoming something's dinne
r."
"Did Inglis have a gun?" Mackenzie asked before being able to stop herself.
The smile on Lowe's face faltered slightly at the mention of Inglis. Mackenzie often forgot how fresh his loss still was for the team.
"I'm sorry," Mackenzie quickly said. "Forget I asked."
"No, no, that's okay," Lowe said gently. "There are no secrets between Diviners, and you're a Diviner now. You have as much right to know about what happened as anyone else on this truck."
Lowe sat down on one of the lower bunks and sighed heavily, taking off his cap and wiping his brow. He replaced the hat on his head and gestured for Mackenzie to sit on the opposite bunk facing hm.
"Yes, Inglis did have a gun," Lowe began as Mackenzie lowered herself down onto the mattress. "But it wouldn't have done anyone any good in his situation. We were on foot, Inglis studying a dried up water source, the rest of us doing routine checks and following protocol. Sweeping for threats, working on the truck engine, that sort of thing. See, Inglis had this theory that all these natural wells we've been surviving on for the last few decades must have originated from somewhere. Something must have created them. Inglis suspected it was a river that dried up and pockets of water were trapped in the crust of the planet. It was a good theory, but he was obsessed with proving it. Maybe that's why he took risks."
"Risks?" Mackenzie asked. "Like what?"
"Well, normally no one ever leaves the truck until Jesse has swept the area for dangers," Lowe explained. "Ever. Inglis was impatient, though. Like you, he knew Town's water supply was dangerously low and he was desperate to find a long-term solution. Maybe even somewhere we could settle permanently. So he insisted that we speed things up. He was out in the field taking his samples before Jesse could complete the sweep. Inglis also didn't check for wildlife heat signatures, another handy trick your station can do. But he was rushing and got careless, with all due respect to his memory. That's why no one noticed the ubergrades."
"The what?" Mackenzie interrupted. "I've never heard of them."
"I'm not surprised," Lowe smirked humorlessly. "Most of your wildlife education was in school, right? Well, they're not the sort of animal teachers want to be telling children about. They're... well, to be perfectly honest, they're horrifying. They're among the worst creatures imaginable."
Lowe sighed and shook his head, looking down at his feet. Mackenzie waited silently for him to go on.
"Think of a large slug," Lowe began. "About the size of a pig. You read about pigs, right? Anyway, ubergrades are ugly things that are the same color as their habitat, exactly the same as all the sand and dirt and rocks we see everywhere. You can stand right on top of one and not know until it grabs you. They've got six legs, but they don't move on land much. They bury themselves almost completely in the sand and wait for food to come to them. They can survive years without food or water. They're as close to being immortal as anything can get. If you get too close to one, it bursts out of the ground and then..."
Lowe trailed off and a distant look came across his face, as though he was no longer looking at Mackenzie, but at something else in a different time. After a moment of silence, he shook his head slightly, snapping out of his reverie, then continued.
"Thing about the ubergrade that makes it so horrible is the way it eats its prey. See, it doesn't have any teeth. It barely even has a head! Just this puckered opening at the end of its neck where it sniffs you out. When it comes out of the ground, it pins you down with its front legs, too heavy for you to move it. Then it... spits this acid on you. This disgusting, foul smelling, burning acid that literally liquifies your flesh, melting it right off your bones. Then it doesn't just eat you. It drinks you. Once you're good and melted, it sticks its puckered nose into the puddle that was once a living thing and sucks it up. And the whole time, you're still alive to know what's happening."
"God," Mackenzie whispered. "I think I'm gonna be sick. That's what happened to Inglis?"
Lowe nodded slowly. "Yeah. By the time any of us knew what was happening, he was covered in the ubergrade acid. There were two of 'em, pinning him down and spitting on him. There was no moving him out, and there was no saving him after that crap touched him. Jesse, though... he still tried."
"What'd he do?" Mackenzie asked in a breath.
"Jesse unloaded his rifle into them," Lowe said flatly. "Twelve shots, but it didn't do a damn thing. Ubergrades have thick skin, they're damn near bulletproof. You can pierce their skin with a knife, if it's strong and sharp enough, but no one who gets close enough to stab an ubergrade is walking away. So Jesse just kept shooting and shooting. And Inglis... he was still alive. Still screaming. I don't think any of us will ever forget the way he screamed when they started drinking his flesh. I know I never will."
"There wasn't anything you could do?" Mackenzie asked, the color having drained from her face. "You couldn't have saved him?"
"I did save him," said a new voice.
Mackenzie and Lowe turned and saw Jesse standing at the entrance to the bunk-room, glaring between them with a withering scowl and narrowed eyes.
"You saved him?" Mackenzie repeated, confused. "But he died."
Jesse glared at her and nodded slowly. "I know. I shot him. One bullet, right in the head. That's what saved him."
Then without another word, Jesse turned around and climbed back up the ladder to his lookout, disappearing through the hatch. Leaving Mackenzie thinking that the water-reclaiming toilet didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.
One thing that Mackenzie quickly learned after a few days of travel was the one thing she never expected when thinking about life as a Diviner.
It was boring.
They had been driving south, towards the mountain ranges, for three days and were still days away from reaching the base of the nearest mountain. In that time, Mackenzie had learned how to use Lowe's weather station, Abbas had shown her how to navigate, Vasseur grilled her daily on protocols and procedures, Jesse had sullenly provided her with a pistol sidearm, and Bell had taught her how to drive Rhiannon. The lesson with Bell had been somewhat brief, though, as Bell would constantly stomp her foot on the imaginary brake from the passenger seat, pointing out with a panicky shriek obstacles that Mackenzie was nowhere near, and cringing every time Mackenzie did something wrong. Bell eventually had had enough and quickly ushered Mackenzie out of the driver's seat, sighing with relief when she was back in control.
"Mama's back, baby," Mackenzie distinctly heard her whisper to the truck.
"Ignore her," Abbas chuckled. "Bell doesn't trust anyone to drive. You did well."
"Yes," Vasseur added, grinning. "Especially well by not losing your temper with her. Jesse threatened to tie her to the back and drag her a few miles, if I remember correctly."
"Like you can talk," Jesse replied smugly from the rear of the truck, casually holding on to the steps on his ladder with one hand. "Lowe told me you wanted to shoot her kneecaps out."
"Did he now?" Vasseur growled, giving Lowe a steely side-eye look.
"I have no idea what he's talking about," Lowe said evenly, winking at Mackenzie, who couldn't help but laugh.
When Mackenzie wasn't learning how to use a new piece of machinery, or trading quips with Lowe and Bell, being a Diviner mostly involved a lot of driving and even more staring at a screen.
Occasionally something of interest would appear on the monitor and she would report it, but after further analysis it would prove to be nothing and they would drive on. The only time they ever stopped was at night to sleep. As Lowe had told her, they slept in shifts. Four asleep, two awake. When they weren't sleeping, they were working, monitoring their equipment in their constant search for water, though none of them expected to find anything until they reached the cooler climate of the mountain ranges.
"So my dad said you searched the ranges before?" Mackenzie asked Vasseur one day.
"That's right," Vasseur nodded.
Mackenzie waited for him to say mor
e, but he remained silent.
"You didn't find anything?" Mackenzie pressed, mainly to just fill the silent void that had filled the truck.
"No," Vasseur replied.
And that was the end of it.
As Mackenzie sullenly turned her attention back to her work station, she suddenly heard Lowe utter a whispered, "Oh, crap."
"What is it?" Vasseur immediately asked.
Lowe turned around in his chair to face them all.
"Wind pressure has picked up from south-south-west," he reported. "Not too strong, but it's carrying a sandstorm our way. Visibility will drop to almost zero within the hour."
"Dammit," Vasseur muttered. "Abbas, find us a safe place to lock down. Bell, once Abbas has a location, head straight there and park us facing the storm so the wind doesn't turn us over. Everyone else, strap in."
"How long will it last?" Mackenzie asked, sounding worried. "Sandstorms can last days. We've got a tight deadline."
Vasseur nodded and then, fixing his narrow eyes on Lowe, asked, "How long do you think, Lowe?"
Lowe quickly pressed a few buttons on the holographic keyboard and studied his screens.
"Looks like a minor storm, sir," he replied. "Should only last a few hours, but just long enough to piss us off."
"We should gather extra rations just in case," Jesse said, standing at Mackenzie's shoulder. "If the storm picks up and lasts longer, we don't want to be trapped inside without food or water."
"We'll get some supplies out of cold storage once we stop," Vasseur said. "Abbas, do you have a location for us yet?"
"Locking in the coordinates now, sir," Abbas replied at once. "Not too far away. A cluster of rocks that can serve as a wind barrier and help keep most of the sand from damaging any exterior equipment."
"Bell, can you get us there?"
"Please," Bell replied, rolling her eyes. "Do you forget who you're talking to?"
They quickly drove to the location Abbas had found for them and, looking through the windows at the front of the truck, Mackenzie could see Abbas had been right. A large cluster of rocks and spectre trees jutting out of the ground formed a rudimentary wall between the truck and the direction the storm was approaching from. Bell parked the truck facing the rocks and began flipping switches on the dashboard.
"Locking down," Bell announced, which was immediately followed by six simultaneous bangs that sounded like cannon-fire, making Mackenzie jump in her seat.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Don't worry," Bell replied. "It's just our chassis anchors. Rhiannon fires six harpoons deep into the ground that hook in and keep us from flipping over. No matter how strong that wind gets, we're not going anywhere."
Even though Lowe had said the storm was minor, when it hit a short time later, Mackenzie was shocked by the ferocity of it. They were all seated at their stations and watching silently out the windows as the sky began to darken and they could see over the rocks the miles high wall of sand churning its way towards them. Mackenzie felt a lump of fear swell in her throat at the sight of the storm. It stretched high into the sky, blotting out the sun. The wall of dark sand and dirt rushed towards them with startling speed, as though they were driving at top speed straight into a solid wall.
When it struck, the spectre trees outside were instantly flattened. The truck shook violently from the power of the wind and Mackenzie couldn't help but cringe fearfully as she heard the sand and rocks pelt the truck's exterior, the thickness of the storm plunging the truck into complete darkness for several seconds, until Bell flipped some switches on the dashboard and the interior lights flicked on with a gentle glow.
Bell sighed heavily as she stared out at the storm. Mackenzie thought she knew what Bell was feeling. The sight of the sandstorm had a hope-draining effect and Mackenzie couldn't help but despair as she thought about how little time they had to find a new water source and how much this storm would slow them down.
"So," Abbas began after everyone was silent for several moments. "Anyone up for a game of cards?"
Time passed slowly in the truck as the storm raged and howled outside, whistling between the rocks and occasionally shaking the truck on its wheels. Abbas had located a deck of cards from somewhere and he, Vasseur, Bell and Lowe were sitting on the lower bunks playing a game called Thirteen, which Mackenzie tried to learn the rules for, but still didn't quite get. She watched as they played, joined in on the conversation, and tried not to think about the roaring wind that was likely burying them under mountains of sand at that exact moment. Visibility outside the truck was non-existent, so thick was the swirling sand around them. It might as well have been the dead of night, but a quick glance at the time told her it was closer to midday.
Looking around, Mackenzie saw Jesse had removed himself from the group and was sitting in his padded chair in the main cabin, cleaning his rifle. He had his back turned on them all, preferring to keep to himself for the time being.
Quietly removing herself from the card game as Bell and Lowe were arguing over whether or not Bell had been allowed to play her card, Mackenzie approached Jesse and stood hesitantly by her chair next to his.
"Mind if I sit down?" she asked.
Jesse didn't look up from chambering bullets into a magazine as he replied. "Suit yourself."
Mackenzie sat down beside Jesse, watching him work on his rifle. He acted as though she wasn't there, focusing on what he was doing.
"I'm sorry about the other day," Mackenzie blurted out.
"What about it?" Jesse asked.
"Well, you know," Mackenzie shrugged. "Lowe telling me how Inglis died."
Jesse frowned, but still didn't look up. "No problem."
Mackenzie picked at a thread in her vest as an uncomfortable silence fell between them. She was struggling to think of something to say when, surprisingly, Jesse was the one to speak.
"Inglis was my friend," he said quietly.
"I... I'm sorry," Mackenzie said, feeling as though she should say more, but couldn't think of anything that would do.
"S'okay," Jesse replied, finally looking up. He met Mackenzie's eyes and offered a tired smile, but it faltered and he quickly resumed his usual broody expression.
"You two were close, then?" Mackenzie asked.
"Yeah," Jesse nodded. "And then some. He raised me. After my parents died."
"Oh," Mackenzie said, surprised. She'd never heard Inglis was Jesse's guardian. "Was... Was it... hard for you to..."
"Shoot Inglis?" Jesse asked, finishing the question for Mackenzie. "Well, I didn't enjoy it. Did I hesitate? Of course I did. But if it was down to dying to the ubergrades or dying by a bullet, I know which I would prefer. Quick and clean was the far better option. If the situation had been reversed, I'd have wanted Inglis to shoot me without a single moment of hesitation. Just to spare me the hell of dying that way."
Jesse finally finished loading the magazine and clicked it into place in his rifle, then set the gun aside. He looked back at Mackenzie, looking as though he was considering her. Then he reached up and hooked his finger into his collar and pulled his shirt aside somewhat, revealing enough of his neck and collarbone for Mackenzie to clearly see the burn scar she had caught a glimpse of several days ago.
"See this scar?" Jesse asked. "My dad did that. He got sick, but it wasn't anything you could just give him medicine for. It was in his head. He started losing hope. I was only 7. One day, I guess it got too much for him, or the sickness on his brain got too bad, because he set fire to our house. He and my mom both died, but I got out. Got burned on the way, but I survived. Inglis took me in. He's half the reason I wanted to become a Diviner."
"God," Mackenzie whispered. "I... I never knew."
"Not many people do," Jesse admitted.
"So, what's the other half?" Mackenzie asked. "Of why you wanted to be a Diviner?"
At this, Jesse's tired smile reappeared. "Well... I wanted to prove I wasn't like my dad, for starters. That I wasn'
t the kind of person who would give up when things looked bad. That I'd always fight to survive, and help others survive. And that's what being out here is all about, really. Survival. Both ours and everyone back at Town."
Jesse leaned forward, closing the space between he and Mackenzie. She found herself acutely aware of how close they were, now, being able to clearly see her own reflection in Jesse's dark brown eyes.
"So what's your story, Miller?" he asked. "You know mine, now. What about you? You happy you're here? Or would you rather be back at Town with your boyfriend?"
At this, Mackenzie scowled at Jesse and narrowed her eyes angrily. "Ethan's not my boyfriend."
"Yeah?" Jesse replied, sounding doubtful. "He looked a little more than friendly the last time I saw you two together. You kiss all your friends like that?"
"You..." Mackenzie started, then stopped herself. She took a quick breath to calm herself down, then replied in an even, clipped, tone. "What's your problem with me? Ever since we met, you've done nothing but say snarky crap and try to embarrass me. If you hate me so much, why did you vote for me to join the team? You told me before the vote that you were going to vote for Ethan, so why'd you change your mind? Did you think you'd get bored without me here to torment?"
"See, it's comments like that that made me think you weren't cut out for this life," Jesse replied, sitting back in his seat, looking at Mackenzie as though disappointed. "You gotta have thicker skin than that. And, to answer your question, I never said I was going to vote for Renaud. I just said I thought he'd be a better fit."
"But..." Mackenzie began, flustered. "But why didn't you vote for him then?"
"He was a better fit right away," Jesse replied. "We wouldn't have had to train him as much in the equipment, but I thought you had better potential. The way you handled that situation with the gaper? That was what a Diviner would have done. That's what your dad would have done, too! Almost no thought for your own safety, just doing what you had to do to make sure nobody died. That's why I voted for you."
Mackenzie stared back at Jesse, not knowing what to say. She was spared having to come up with a response, however, when her terminal began beeping insistently at her.
Turning her chair around to address the issue, Mackenzie examined the readout on the screen in front of her. When she realized what she was looking at, her eyebrows pressed together in confusion and doubt.
"What?" she whispered to herself.
Mackenzie leaned closer to the monitor and examined what she had seen. Jesse rose from his seat and stood at her shoulder, also peering at the monitor.
"What is it?" he asked.
Mackenzie pointed at the screen, at a small line of bluish-green that was barely thicker than a hair.
"That," Mackenzie said. "I think that's water."
"Where?" Vasseur demanded, suddenly appearing beside Mackenzie.
Mackenzie pointed at the hairline of blue and green again. "Right there. It wasn't there a moment ago, though."
"Could the sensors have been damaged by the storm?" Jesse asked.
"No way," Mackenzie replied before Vasseur could. "I retracted the sensors to shield them from the storm, but they're still on. They're just pointing straight down. The signal is faint, that's why they didn't pick up on the thermal reading right away, but that is definitely water."
"It doesn't look like much," Vasseur commented as Bell, Abbas, and Lowe also appeared nearby, all looking surprised and hopeful. "Barely more than a trickle."
"It's deep underground," Mackenzie said, examining the readouts. "About half a mile."
"We can't dig that deep!" Bell exclaimed. "We don't have the equipment for that!"
"Even if we did," Abbas chimed in, "it would take us weeks we don't have to dig that far down."
"Wait, wait..." Mackenzie said, her fingers flying over the holographic keyboard, not blinking as she examined the numerous screens and the numbers that kept scrolling and the thermal readouts that showed the supposed water. She examined the data and then gasped softly in amazement. "It's flowing. Look, it's flowing!"
"So?" Lowe asked, confused. "What good does that do us?"
"Remember you told me about Inglis' theory?" Mackenzie asked excitedly, turning in her seat to face Lowe. "You said he thought there might have once been a common water source, something that created all these natural wells. I think this might lead us to it."
"Excuse me?" Jesse scoffed. "There is no common water source. We looked."
"Oh, and did you ever find an underground river?" Mackenzie snapped. When Jesse remained silent, she continued. "No matter how far down this river is, it had to have come from somewhere. And the fact that there's still a current to it proves that the place it came from is likely still there. I think this might be what we're looking for. This could be a new water source for us to relocate to!"
Vasseur frowned at the monitors as he thought, taking in all the details and weighing his options. Mackenzie remained silent and held her breath.
"I agree," Vasseur finally said. "There's something to this. And we'd be stupid to not at least check it out. Abbas, work with Miller to figure out where this river is flowing from, then backtrack it. I want coordinates by the time this storm passes. Everyone else, eat something, have some water, and get some rest. Something tells me tomorrow is going to be a busy day and we're going to need all the strength we can get."
Then Vasseur looked down at Mackenzie and nodded at her, an impressed smile on his face.
"Not bad for your first week," Vasseur said. "Good job, Miller."
"Thank you, sir," Mackenzie replied, trying to contain her excitement.
Jesse leaned in close and murmured in her ear, "What'd I tell you? Potential."
Before Mackenzie could reply, Jesse walked away to climb into his bunk. Mackenzie could barely hear the howling of the storm anymore as she and Abbas worked. She was far too excited to pay attention to anything other than the task at hand.
To think I was bored!