Page 50 of The Island

“We need water if we’re going to survive until morning in here. Food too. But water most of all. You won’t be making any decisions about what to do with us if we don’t get water,” Heather said in a quiet but insistent whisper.

Matt nodded. “Hold on,” he said.

He closed the shed door and locked it.

“What is happening? I cannot believe this!” Hans exclaimed.

“Ze houden ons gevangen. Ze gaan ons morgenochtend vermoorden,” Petra said dispassionately.

The only word Heather thought she understood was vermoorden.

Yes, they are going to murder us.

The shed door was unlocked and opened. Matt came in with a liter bottle of water. “That’s the best I can do,” he said, putting it in front of Heather.

“Thank you,” she replied. “How are we going to pass it to one another?”

“Um…”

“Can you get the children to take a drink each? Please,” she said.

Matt was clearly embarrassed. “What?”

“I can’t. Could you do it for me, please? Just hold it to their mouths and get them to drink.”

Best way of getting an adult to bond with a child is having the adult feed them. It’s primal, one of the parenting books Tom had made her read said.

Matt sighed. “OK, then,” he said.

“Kids, I want you to take a big drink each,” Heather said.

They were so thirsty both kids drank greedily from the bottle.

“What about us?” Petra inquired.

“You can share with her,” Matt said, plonking the bottle down in front of Heather.

“How are we supposed to go to the toilet?” Hans asked.

“You’re going to have to figure that one out for yourselves,” Matt said.

“Where’s my dad?” Owen said.

Matt looked at Heather. “I’ll let your mum explain that.”

“She’s not my mother,” Owen said.

“Well, she’ll tell you,” Matt said. “I’m leaving but we’ll be keeping an eye on you, so no funny business. If you sit still, you won’t get strangled. If you mess around, I’m not to blame for what happens. And no noise if you know what’s good for you. Ma likes her sleep. Good night,” he said.

“You’re really going to leave us like this?” Heather asked.

“What can I do?” he said. He exited the shed and locked it.

“Where is your husband?” Hans asked when he had gone.

Heather knew there was no way around this now. But someone needed to be holding that boy tight while she said it.

Poor Owen. Poor Olivia. Oh my God, those poor kids.