“Kai?”
“You know, the boy whose father works with you. The driller.”
“Rikkai Smith?”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Rikkai?” he repeated.
“Tall, blond hair, about Will’s age?” I asked.
The doctor nodded. “His father Driesen and I have been friends since before the Great Panic. But what made you think he was with me?”
“It’s what the pirates said. They were coming to find you.”
Dr. Tinker sniffed. “Instead those PELA thugs found me first.”
I considered this. “What did they want from you?”
“The same thing the pirates wanted.”
“Water,” I said.
“Yes. Everyone wants water.”
“But not everyone knows where to find it.”
“Driesen has a special talent,” said Tinker.
“Kai told us.”
Dr. Tinker looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if he didn’t understand what I had said. But his mouth was a thin, grim line, like a man who knew exactly what I meant. “What did he tell you?” he asked.
“A secret river with plenty of water, and no one has to get sick or fight anymore.”
“Is it true?” asked Will.
But the doctor was silent and wouldn’t say anything else. The hover-carrier sped over the ground, leaving the environmentalists behind. Will was getting the hang of driving now, and the ride was smooth and quick. Outside, the desert zipped past in a blur of sand and rock, with no green to be seen. Whatever water the Canadians owned, they had diverted it from this rocky and forlorn area.
“Do you have a plan to cross the border?” asked Dr. Tinker.
“Of course we do,” I said. I looked at Will, wondering if he did. The hover-carrier was fast, but I doubted it could outrace border interceptors. For the first time, I also noted the fuel gauge was dangerously close to empty. This explained why the environmentalists had stopped before reaching their destination. But Will drove like it didn’t matter.
“Those environmentalists were going to kill you,” I said to Dr. Tinker.
“Yes,” he said.
“You’re lucky we found you.”
“If we get across the border, I will see to it that you are adequately compensated.”
“We’ll get across,” Will interjected.
Dr. Tinker did not sound like a man who was grateful his life had been saved. He seemed weary and slightly peeved, as if he had been interrupted in the middle of a game or favorite wi-cast.
“Did you work at the dam?” I asked.
“I worked at the laboratory powered by the dam.” He explained that the research lab was in a different location than the turbines. It reduced the chances of sabotage.
“A lot of good that did,” said Will.
The doctor nodded. “We knew it was vulnerable. But we thought security was adequate.”
“Is that where you met Kai?” I asked.
“I’ve known Driesen for years, as I’ve explained.”
“Were they visiting you?”
Dr. Tinker allowed himself a smile. He looked a little bit like a gnome, his hooked nose splitting his grin in half. “You’ll not get any more information from me. These days even children are spies.”
“Uh-oh,” said Will. “Trouble.”
“What?”
“We’re out of fuel.”
Indeed the carrier was slowing, and the ride was getting bumpier. One of the engines had quit, and the carrier listed to the right.
“Was this part of your plan too?” asked Dr. Tinker.
Will fought for control as we veered off the road. “Hold on,” he said.
The carrier hit the ground with a bone-rattling thump. It threw me hard against the seat, then snapped my head back against the headrest. But it was nothing next to the earsplitting shriek as the carrier’s bottom raked against the rocks.
“Wheels down, Will!” I shouted.
“They are down!”
We spun in a grinding arc, the shredding, screeching sound of metal against rock like a cacophonous symphony. Finally we came to a halt. There was a ragged gash where a side panel had been ripped open. Dust motes danced in the shards of sunlight that streamed through the gap.
“Well, I don’t think we’ll be doing much more driving,” Dr. Tinker muttered.
Will looked at him sourly, then unbuckled his seat belt.
“Where do you think we can find some fuel?” I asked.
“I don’t know!” Will snapped angrily. “What do I look like, a hydrogen diviner?”
“Now children,” said Dr. Tinker.
Will slammed shut the carrier door, leaving me behind with Dr. Tinker.
“He’s not really angry,” I explained. “We’ve been through a lot.”
“Remarkable. Did your parents recruit you?”
I wasn’t going to waste breath trying to convince Dr. Tinker we weren’t spies. He didn’t intend to give us more information anyway, and I liked thinking of myself as a spy.
The door banged open, and Will jumped backed into the driver’s seat. “They’re coming!”
“Who?”
“PELA!”
Sure enough, through the cracked viewscreen I could see the dust kicked up from three hover-carriers about five kilometers down the road.
Will pressed the starting buttons on the instrument panel. The carrier’s engine whined, but it failed to lift even a centimeter from the ground.
“We’re doomed,” said Dr. Tinker.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“You should have left me back there.”
“Shut up!” said Will. He turned to me. “There’s still a charge left in the desalinator.”
I nodded and unbuckled my belt. I went to the back of the carrier while Will continued to try to start the engine. The desalinator’s battery showed it had stored energy for perhaps two more bursts. It would not be enough to stop PELA, but if we could draw them outside, we might have a chance to steal another carrier.
After several more failed tries at the engine, Will joined me in the cargo hold. He took the hose from my hand, and we hunched near the doors.
“I wish we had bullets for the guns,” I said.
“I don’t want to kill anyone else.”
“You had to kill those guards,” I whispered.
Will carefully inspected the end of the hose, turning it over and over in his hands. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m scared, Vera.”
“So am I.”
Will looked back up, and his eyes were red-rimmed and gray. I offered my brother my hand, and he grasped it like a last chance. “We’re going to get home,” I said. “Remember? You promised.”
“I did,” he said.
A concussive boom shook the carrier, knocking us both to the floor. It was followed by several smaller booms and then the sulfurous tang of torn metal.
“They’re shooting at us!” I screamed. I was on the floor, my hands covering my head. Hot pieces of metal singed my hair and stung the backs of my arms.
“Stay down!” Will yelled.
Two more booms shattered the viewscreens inside the carrier. Glass rained onto the floor, and the cargo doors blew out. Small arms fire followed, the bullets ricocheting off the carrier’s broken hulk. Smoke and dust swirled around the interior, making breathing nearly impossible. A single glass canister slipped from a shelf and smashed into a thousand pieces. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t speak. All I could do was keep my head covered and pray it would end.
Then all fell silent. I raised my head. I was alive, and so was Will. I could not see Dr. Tinker.
A loudspeaker broke the silence.
“Come out with your hands raised!” said Nasri’s amplified voice.
I looked over at Will and knew our situation was hopeless. Yet we lay there for several minutes until Nasri repeated himself and threatened to open fire again. Will raised his arms first, and I followed. We stepped over pieces of shredded metal and exited the carrier through a gaping hole where the driver’s side door used to be. Dr. Tinker was already outside with his hands clasped above his head.