***

 

The refrigerator hummed loudly, and John tossed the compress inside. He went back to his mother, who was still bent over Emily.

 

“Found it,” John said.

 

“Good. Why don't you go and grab our gear out of the cruiser?” Brooke asked.

 

“Even the water?”

 

“Just bring in one more gallon. If we have to get out of here in a hurry, I don't want us to have to worry about loading everything back up.”

 

John's shoes sank in the sand as he trudged to the cruiser and opened the rear hatch. Sand fell from the hatch door like a waterfall, dumping the hot granules over the tops of his shoes.

 

He placed the gear down inside the station and walked back over to his mom.

 

“Now what?” John asked.

 

“We wait and see,” Brooke said, not looking at him.

 

“How long will it take?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Can I do anything else?”

 

John's voice was soft and an octave higher than usual. The pit of his stomach churned, feeling like it was going to turn inside out. He clutched his belly and stared back down at the sand still lingering on his shoes.

 

“I'm sorry,” John said.

 

“John, this wasn't your fault.”

 

“I should have been paying more attention.”

 

“John.”

 

“I could have warned her if I'd seen it.”

 

“John.”

 

He felt his mother's warm, rough hands cup his face and pull his head up.

 

“I need you to listen to me. This. Is not your fault. Okay?”

 

John nodded.

 

“This was a freak accident. Nothing more.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now, I need you to watch your sister. Wait a little bit longer before you take the compress out and then keep it on Emily’s forehead. If she wakes up, come and get me”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To try and make a call.”