“Later. Let me go, woman.”
I had no choice but to follow him to the plastic-wrapped branches where Conner had dug out a small trough in the sand directly below the funnel. The plastic was tight with collected water.
My mouth begged at the thought of a glass of ice-cold H20
Galloway nodded in approval. “Great, now put the catchment down.”
Conner did as he was told, wedging the fuselage into position.
Once it was in place, I understood what they’d been doing. What the rhythmic banging had been. “You made that?”
Conner looked up. “Yep. Well, Galloway did.”
“How?”
“With a rock and a lot of elbow grease.” Galloway leaned heavily on his crutch. “Do the other one, Conner.”
Conner climbed to his feet and repeated the process, digging a hole to keep the trough upright and wedging the metal into position beneath the burgeoning funnel. The metal had transformed into a pockmarked container with sloping sides and a big enough surface area to hold litres of water. Our own personal reservoir.
Is it safe to drink out of metal from an aircraft?
Worry tainted my joy. Who knew what the metal was coated with or what nasty chemicals would seep into our water supply.
But like Galloway previously said, ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ It was this or no water or cooking facilities.
I choose this.
Regardless of the consequences.
Once secure, Conner stood and Galloway held out his hand to me. “Swiss Army knife, please.”
I pulled the lifesaving tool from my short’s pocket. Pressing it into his palm, I suffered another electrical jolt as his fingers brushed mine.
He smiled (more like grimaced) in thanks and hopped toward the plastic. He cursed under his breath.
I stepped forward. “What’s up?”
He spun the knife in his grip. “To extract the water, I either have to unwrap the tree which would potentially lose a lot of liquid or cut the funnel and pour out the gathered supply. The only problem is once it’s cut, the water won’t gather as there’ll be an air gap.”
My mind raced with solutions.
I yanked off my second-to-last hair-tie from around my wrist. “Can you secure it with this?” I looked at the metal container below. “It doesn’t have to be strictly water tight, right? The droplets that escape will be caught.”
I didn’t mention the fact that the sun would dry up any liquid almost as fast as they dripped. Now was not the time.
Galloway said, “You’re right.”
“Great.” I passed the tie to him. “All yours.”
He eyed my tangled blonde hair. “Why haven’t you been putting your hair up? Aren’t you hot?”
My skin danced beneath his gaze, loving the way he studied me and terribly self-conscious, too. I had no makeup on. No beautification of any kind. He saw me at my worst—my sun-bleached, windswept, island-crashed worst.
Oh well, he can’t see all that well.
Perhaps, he’d missed the salt-tightness of my skin or the shininess of greasy hair.
What an awful thing to think.
It must be horrid not being able to see with clarity. I wished he could see me. See the honest to God’s truth of who I was so there was no denying he’d accepted me for me and not some hazy, unfocused version of what he wanted to see.
I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore. “My hair is the only sunscreen I have for my shoulders and neck. I’m hot, but at least I’m not as badly burned as I would be if I tied it up.”
Having earned his answer, he turned away and poised the blade over the end of the funnel. I moved closer, taking his crutch as he balanced and pinched the plastic.
With utmost care, Galloway nicked the bottom. Instantly, a stream of collected water poured into the awaiting metal below. A few droplets splashed onto the sand, absorbing instantly, but the majority made the most satisfying splash.
“Crap, I need a drink.” Conner fell to his knees. “One taste. Please?”
Galloway growled, “Grab the bottles and fill them up. We can’t be stupid with the small amount we have.”
Conner obeyed instantly. Galloway hadn’t been angry, but he did command a certain kind of reverence.
While Conner carefully held the empty bottles in the trough, filling them one by one, Galloway and I moved to the poncho collection.
With bleeding hands, Galloway nicked the funnel, and once again my heart leapt at the delicious flowing water. It took every willpower not to face-plant and slurp up every drop.
Galloway secured the funnel with my hair-tie and swiped sweat off his forehead. The sun had just set, leaving us in twilight. “Well, that’s that.”
Pippa darted over as Conner screwed the caps on the bottles. Yesterday, they’d been empty, and I’d been at a complete loss how we’d ever refill them. Now, they held life-giving liquid.
I would forever be grateful to Galloway for giving us that precious reprieve.
We weren’t dying anymore.
We would survive long enough for rescue to find us.
Because of him.
He’d created water from nothing and found food from nowhere.
Compared to what I’d contributed, that was everything.
Conner and Pippa immediately shared a bottle, swigging mouthfuls, groaning with contentment.
Galloway took the other full one and passed it to me. I shook my head, forcing it back to him. “No, you hurt yourself making this possible. Please, I insist.”
He looked as if he’d argue, so I took matters out of his control. Snatching the bottle, I unscrewed it and held it to his lips. His eyes widened as he watched me with blazing awareness. Slowly, his lips parted and allowed me to tip the bottle so water cascaded into his mouth.