by Cathy Hapka
“I don't think it's a canteen.” The stopper was wedged in tightly, and Jack bit his lip in concentration as he worked at it. “It might have papers inside or something.”
Ty snorted. “What good are papers to us?” he exclaimed. “Come on, drop it and let's see if we can dig a shelter beneath that frill. It's at a good angle to protect us from the night wind. You can try to open that up and find something to read later.”
Jack knew he was right. Still, he couldn't resist giving one more tug at the stopper. This time it gave way, popping free and flying into the sand, where it disappeared.
There was a scrap of something inside. Jack fished it out—it was a scroll of leathery hide, stiff with age but crumbling only at the corners. He bent down and carefully spread it open on the sand. His eyes widened as he stared at the lines and markings on it.
“Look!” he cried to Ty, who was already heading back toward the larger skeleton. “I think it's a map!”
CHAPTER 11
Ty rushed back to Jack's side. “A map?” he cried eagerly. “What does it say? Does it show the way to Meeramu?”
Jack squinted at the map, turning it one way and another as he tried to make sense of the markings. “I think I see that outcropping we saw before,” he said, pointing to a crude drawing of a distinctively tall, narrow rock they had passed earlier. There were other drawings scattered across the map's surface, though Jack wasn't sure what they represented.
Ty bent over the map. “I think you're right,” he said. “And look, I think this arrow is pointing north, so that means you should hold it this way.” He took the map and turned it forty-five degrees from the way Jack had been holding it.
“How can you tell that says North?” Jack blinked at the squiggle Ty had indicated. “It's not written in the footprint alphabet.”
Ty shrugged. “It looks like Chandaran,” he said. “A traveler taught me that alphabet once when her caravan was passing through town. I thought it was interesting, so I memorized it.”
Jack was surprised that Ty would have knowledge of such a language. Few people in the desert knew much about the rich, fabled city of Chandara, as no caravans had traveled there in many years, but he didn't waste time wondering about it.
“Okay then,” he murmured. “If that's the out-cropping, we're probably somewhere over this way.” He pointed to an area off to the left.
“Right,” Ty agreed, sounding excited. “And look at this! It's a drawing of a tree and a drop of water. That must mean an oasis! It's probably close to here! We should go find it!”
Jack gulped. An oasis! Could Ty be right?
“Even if there is an oasis out there, we don't know how far it is,” he pointed out worriedly. “There's no way of telling that from the map. It could be a full day's journey yet. Maybe we should just camp here like you suggested and think about it in the morning.”
Ty was still staring at the map. “Look, there's another oasis marked over here,” he said, jabbing his finger toward the far left edge of the map, which was starting to crumble away with age. “A bigger one. Maybe it's the Great Oasis!” His voice rose with excitement. “Maybe these travelers discovered the long-lost Great Oasis!”
And look where it got them, Jack thought, his gaze wandering to the huge pile of bones nearby. He shuddered and turned back to Ty.
“Let's make camp,” he said.
“You go ahead and get started on that.” Ty sounded distracted. He spun on his heel, orienting himself by the sun. “I'm just going to take a quick look off that way.”
Jack sighed, not bothering to protest as Ty headed off with the map in his hands. Once again he was faced with the choice of staying behind, as his head told him to do, or following Ty on a trip that could turn out to accomplish little more than bringing sand to the desert.
Why does he have to be so impulsive? he wondered, already trudging off after Ty. Why can't he ever stop to think things through?
“I see something!” Ty's cry interrupted Jack's thoughts.
“What is it?” Jack called, hurrying forward.
“I don't know yet. I think . . .” Ty's voice trailed off.
By this time Jack, too, could see that something was jutting up out of the sand just a few hundred yards ahead. For a second he thought it might be another saurian skeleton. Then he took a few steps closer and realized that the tall, pale spires were the sun-bleached remains of long-dead trees.
“I think it's the oasis,” Ty said, his voice dull with disappointment. “The one on the map.”
The two boys walked closer, stopping at the edge of the spectral grove. At least two dozen trunks remained out of what must long ago have been a much larger stand of trees. Jack even spotted what had to be the course of the spring that had once fed the oasis. Now it was no more than a dry, rocky indentation in the blowing sand. There wasn't a drop of water to be found, nor a hint of life to be seen.
As he stared around the barren oasis, Jack felt his heart sink past his knees. Despite his earlier thoughts, he realized he'd still held out some faint hope that Ty was right—that a lush oasis was waiting for them somewhere nearby, where they would find all the water they could drink, and tasty plants to snack on until the caravan found them. Instead, his worst fears had come true. They had wasted their valuable time on a fool's mission.
“I can't believe it.” Ty sounded even more devastated than Jack felt. “What a waste of time. I was so sure . . .”
His voice trailed off and he spun on his heel, kicking at a jagged stump nearby. A portion of the bone-dry wood cracked off and fell to the ground at Jack's feet. He stared at it.
“Hey,” he said. “Maybe this wasn't a complete waste of time.” Bending to pick up the wood, he held it up. “We might be able to make a fire. That will keep us a lot warmer than a ditch in the sand.”
Ty's expression brightened immediately. “You're right!” he cried. “Come on, let's grab as much as we can carry. We'll take it back to the dinosaur skeleton—if we camp behind that big old frill, we'll be protected from the wind, and the trapped heat will keep us even warmer.”
Within moments the boys were hiking back toward the campsite. They were almost there when Jack realized that they still had a serious problem.
“Do you have any matches?” he asked.
Ty gulped. “No,” he said. “Don't you?”
Jack shook his head. “Maybe we can try rubbing two sticks together,” he suggested. “I read about someone starting a fire that way in a scroll once.”
Ty wrinkled his nose. “Have you ever tried that?” he asked. “Because I have. It's not as easy as it sounds. I couldn't even get a spark when I tried it—and I kept at it for a good half an hour.”
Jack felt like dropping his load of firewood and screaming with frustration. Every time they had a bit of luck, something else went wrong. Maybe they should just forget about building a camp, forget about finding their way, forget about everything.
He almost immediately felt chagrined at his own negative thoughts. Cragnog had introduced him as “Jack Hardwick, a young man with an inquiring mind and a patient heart.” What would the wise old saurian think if he knew how easily Jack was tempted to give up?
Think, he told himself as the saurian skeleton came into view ahead. Use that inquiring mind for something other than imagining how horrible it will be to die of thirst out here. There has to be another way. . . .
“I've got it!” he exclaimed suddenly, just as he and Ty reached the edge of the camp.
He hurried forward, dumping the wood on the ground near the bony frill. Then he dug into his pockets, praying that the contents hadn't been lost somehow during his long hike. To his relief, his hand almost immediately closed on something cool, hard, and familiar.
“What's that?” Ty asked, piling his own load of wood atop Jack's and then wiping his hands clean on his shirt.
Jack held up his magnifying glass. The lens was cracked but otherwise none the worse for wear. “Glass,” he said succinctly. “We sh
ould be able to use this to start a fire from the sun. But we have to hurry while the afternoon sun is still strong enough.”
“Outstanding!” Ty grabbed the glass and tossed it onto the sand near the frill. Then he hoisted the pile of branches and stepped over a fallen leg bone, so that he stood within the sweeping arch formed by the dinosaur's ribs. From outside, it looked as if he were trapped inside a huge cage of bones. Kneeling down near the natural grotto formed by the dead saurian's frill bone, he quickly piled the branches in a tepee formation.
“We need some kindling,” he told Jack, who was watching.
Jack glanced around blankly. Spotting the remains of the traveler's pack, he hurried over and tried to drag it toward Ty, but it fell apart before he could move it even a few inches. He bit his lip, carefully scanning the area. All he could see were bones and sand and a few rocks.
Ty was looking around and reaching the same conclusion. “What about our clothes?” He reached for his makeshift headscarf, then touched his shirt. Then he shook his head. “No good. Too sweaty. And we don't have time to wait for anything to dry.”
“We could try burning the map,” Jack suggested reluctantly. He hated to destroy such an interesting relic, but they were running out of time. The afternoon sun would soon be too low to spark a flame.
Ty shook his head. “I don't think that will work,” he said. “We need something dry and light that will burn quickly and easily—leaves, small twigs, paper, straw, something like that.”
He turned out his pockets, but all that tumbled out was a small handmade kazoo. Ty lifted it to his lips and blew out a weak, off-key note, then tucked it away again.
“Do you have anything else in your pockets?” he asked Jack.
Jack reached into his right pants pocket and pulled out the contents. The remainder of the bag of snacks fell to the sand, along with the root digger and the plant-identification book.
Ty's face lit up. “Perfect!” he cried, lunging toward the book. “Why didn't you say you had something made of paper? We can use this.”
“Wait!” Jack cried. “No. We can't burn that. It was a gift. A very special one.” He touched the cover gently, remembering the pride in his father's eyes as he'd handed it to him, the shy way his mother had pointed out the details in some of the drawings she'd copied so carefully.
Ty rolled his eyes. “No matter how special the gift, it won't do you any good when you're like him.” He gestured toward the huge skeleton.
“No,” Jack said again firmly. “I won't burn it. Here.” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out his notebook. He stared at it, wishing there was another way. Then he shrugged. What did it matter? It wasn't as if he would need the journal to remember this trip. “We can use the pages in this notebook,” he told Ty. “I haven't written on many of them anyway.”
“Great!” Ty took the book right out of Jack's hands. “I'll try not to use the written-on pages if I don't need them, okay?”
“Just a second. I'll do that—”
But Ty was already flipping open the book. “Hey, my name!” He grinned and started to read, clearly expecting something good.
Jack held his breath. Any journal entries he'd made about the trip that included Ty's name would certainly have also included the word idiot or stupid or jollyhead, or something worse.
“Wow,” said Ty, his grin slowly falling. “I didn't know that's how you . . .”
Jack felt twinges of embarrassment, guilt, and anger. It was none of Ty's business what he'd written in a private journal. He'd never meant for Ty to see it. But now that he had . . .
“Ty, you shouldn't have . . . I didn't mean for you—”
“Never mind,” Ty said. Keeping his eyes down, he flipped quickly through the pages until he reached the first few blank ones. He tore them out and crumpled them, pushing them into the center of the pile of firewood.
“Here,” he said, handing the notebook back to Jack without meeting his eyes. “Why don't you keep going with the paper? I'll start working with the glass.”
CHAPTER 12
By the time darkness fell, Ty had a strong, crackling fire going. Jack had fetched more wood from the dry oasis, and as the desert heat dissipated along with the last rays of the sun, he was glad for the small pocket of cheery warmth in the vastness. The flames snapped and popped as they ate through the dried wood, the light casting orange reflections on the smooth surface of the enormous dinosaur bones surrounding the boys.
As he sat warming his fingers near the fire, Jack's stomach grumbled noisily. He had been so busy worrying about water and shelter, he had nearly forgotten that it had been hours since he'd had a bite to eat.
Remembering the snacks in his pocket, he fished out the bag. “Here,” he said, his voice breaking the silence that had reigned at the little camp since Ty had read the entry in Jack's notebook. “We might as well finish this off. We can split it.”
“Thanks.” Ty accepted his share of the dried fruit and nuts and ate it hungrily. Jack chewed his own portion slowly, trying to convince his body that it was being adequately nourished. After he'd finished, he carefully sipped a small amount of water, gauging how long the remainder would last. Not long, he decided with a twinge of fear.
Meanwhile, Ty was gazing into the fire, his blue eyes uncharacteristically somber. Jack wondered what the other boy was thinking about. He never would have imagined he might miss Ty's voice and laughter, but he did now.
Clearing his throat, Jack leaned forward. “You know,” he said awkwardly, brushing a stray spark off his pants leg, “I didn't really mean all that stuff I wrote. It's just that we're pretty different, and sometimes . . .” He didn't say anything more for fear of making things worse between them.
To his surprise, Ty simply shrugged. “I know,” he said. “You seem kind of weird to me sometimes, too.”
Jack exhaled. “Then everything's okay?”
“Yeah. It's okay.” Ty shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. “Now quit being such a chatterbox,” he teased. “It's time to get some sleep.”
“That's a pretty sensible thing to say. . . .” Jack hesitated a moment and then added, “I mean, for a jollyhead.”
Ty stared a long moment at Jack. “Hardwick, I think you actually made a joke. Could it be true?”
“Aw, just go to sleep, Ferris,” said Jack. And they did.
When Jack opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself staring into the fire, which was down to a few sparks in the embers. He sat up, groaning as muscles he'd never known he had protested.
“Guess you're not used to all that walking, hmm, Book Boy?” Ty commented from across the remains of the fire. He was poking at a glowing coal with one of the few remaining unburned sticks.
“It's falling off an Aepy I'm not used to,” Jack snapped back before belatedly noticing the other boy's grin and realizing he was teasing. He shook off his aches and pains as best he could and stood up. “Guess we'd better put out the rest of this fire and get moving.”
“Agreed.” Ty hopped to his feet, and both of them kicked sand over the last few sparks. The sun was still low in the eastern sky, but the desert heat was already building.
Jack opened his canteen and took a sip. His throat was screaming for more, but he forced himself to stop after a few mouthfuls. There was no telling how much longer the remainder would have to last.
“I'm glad you're finished with the idea of sitting around waiting to be found,” Ty commented, slipping on his sandals and picking up his makeshift headscarf. “If we keep up a good pace,” Ty added, “we might even reach Meeramu by nightfall.”
Jack blinked, wondering if this was another joke. But Ty seemed all too serious. “You mean you want to keep heading southwest?” Jack asked.
“Of course.”
“But there's no telling how far off track we could be,” Jack said, bending to retrieve his magnifying glass and other belongings. “We might be heading straight toward the Forbidden Mountains, o
r even the Blackwood Flats.”
Ty shrugged. “Or we might be heading straight toward Meeramu,” he said. “There's only one way to find out, right?”
Jack remained silent as he tucked his plant-identification book into his pocket. He still thought they might have a chance if they headed due east. That seemed the safest plan. They had no way of knowing exactly where they were, but the coastal road was no more than a day and a half's trek from any point in the Great Desert east of the canyons.
Of course, there's not much chance we'll make it a full day and a half with no food and almost no water, he thought grimly. We might not even make it half a day. Still, we're more likely to meet up with the rest of the caravan if we head that way. Aren't we?
His fingers closed around his notebook, and he felt a flash of guilt as he remembered how hurt Ty had looked as he'd read it. Was he really so sure Ty's plan was wrong? Or was he just disagreeing because it was Ty who was suggesting it?
Maybe he's right, Jack told himself. Maybe I'm worried for nothing—letting my worries soar like the wings of a Skybax, as Dad likes to say—and we'll come upon the Overlook as soon as we set out. It's as likely a happy ending as we would have trying any other path. At least I hope so.
Swallowing his uneasiness as best he could, he nodded. “All right,” he told Ty. “Southwest it is. Let's get started.”
Three hours later, as he tipped the last few drops from his canteen down his parched throat, Jack had reason to doubt his own decision to give in to Ty without an argument. He had never been so hot and thirsty and tired in his life. Glancing forward at Ty, who was trudging along a few yards ahead, he guessed that the other boy was feeling much the same. Neither of them had spoken for at least an hour, and it was all Jack could do to continue putting one foot in front of the other.
There was no sign of the Overlook, though Jack scanned the horizon in all directions at least every five minutes. There was no sign of the caravan. And there was certainly no sign that they were anywhere near Meeramu.