Nightrise

on the tap. A trickle of cold water came out. So far he had only been given bottled water to drink at Silent Creek. Indeed, he had been warned that the tap water was unfiltered. But there was no helping it. If he didn't drink, he would die. He cupped his hand and scooped some of the water into his mouth. It tasted stale and metallic. He took off his T-shirt and held it under the flow, then pressed it against himself. Rivulets of water ran under his armpits and down his chest, feeling cool for just a few seconds. He squeezed the shirt against the back of his neck. He would have to do this constantly until someone came or until the air-conditioning was turned back on. But some how Jamie knew that neither of these things was going to happen soon.
    Time crept past mercilessly. The window was a narrow slit with glass the color of milk. He couldn't see out, so there was no way of knowing what time of day it was except that — as midday approached —
    the glare became even stronger, the heat ever more unbearable. He had nothing to read, nothing to do.
    He wanted to scream and pound his fists against the door but he knew that nobody would hear him and it would do no good. Besides, he wasn't even sure he had the strength. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. As each hour passed, he drifted between consciousness and a sleep that he feared might be his death. He had to force himself to get up every few minutes and return to the tap. The little flow of water was the only thing keeping him alive.
    He knew now that he had failed. He should have guessed from the way that Joe Feather had looked at him at the end of the meal only the day before. The intake officer had somehow recognized him and he must have passed on his knowledge to the supervisor, Max Koring. This was the result. They would leave him here until he died and then tell the authorities that it had been an accident. Apart from his bloody nose, there would be no signs of violence on his body. They would bury him in the desert and that would be the end of it.
    Had they done the same thing to Scott? That was what he didn't understand. Why go to all the trouble of the kidnap, the dart guns, the double murder of Don and Marcie — just to bring him here to die?
    Nightrise was supposed to be looking for kids with paranormal powers. Scott, Jamie himself, Daniel McGuire, and many others. But he still had no idea why they wanted them.
    And then the door opened.
    Jamie felt a cool breeze that danced on his skin. He was lying on his back, naked down to the waist, his pants soaked and the crumpled ball of his T-shirt pressed against his head. His chest was rising and falling as his lungs fought desperately for air. Somehow he managed to turn his head and saw a man standing there, silhouetted in the doorway. Jamie couldn't make out who it was but then the man stepped inside and his heart sank as he recognized Joe Feather.
    Feather stood where he was. He swore quietly to himself, then muttered, "What are they doing?"
    He backed out again and Jamie was afraid that he was going to abandon him — but instead Feather found a switch and turned the air-conditioning back on. Almost at once the temperature in the cell began to fall. And then Jamie must have blacked but for a brief moment because suddenly Feather was there, kneeling down beside the bunk. He had a bottle of cold water.
    "Drink this," he said. "Not too much. It'll make you sick…"
    He held the bottle against Jamie's lips and Jamie swallowed gratefully. He had never felt anything quite as wonderful as the sensation of. cold water trickling down his throat.
    For a while, neither of them spoke. As Jamie recovered his strength, he once again examined the man who had introduced him to Silent Creek. Joe Feather was perhaps older than he had first thought. It was difficult to be sure as his face was so sunburned, so lived in. His eyes were very dark. He was looking at Jamie with a mixture of dismay and…something else. For the first time, Jamie wondered if this man might not be his enemy after all. They were both Native Americans. Didn't that put them on the same side?
    "Can you get up?" Feather asked. He glanced nervously at the door, making sure there was nobody outside. "We don't have much time."
    "Why?" Jamie asked.

    'You have to get out of here. They want to hurt you. But I have friends. I've called them. Very soon, they will come. They will help you escape."
    "Escape…?" This was all happening too fast.