“Are you hurt?” he asked urgently.
“Carter!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
They picked themselves up and inspected each other for injuries. The back of his left hand was slightly burned, and she plucked a few metal fragments from her forearms. Their injuries were minor, but the radio’s were fatal. There was nothing left to salvage.
“How on earth do you make a radio explode?” Fenella demanded. “I thought the worst that could happen is we’d waste time and it wouldn’t work!”
For lack of an actual explanation, he said, “Me too.”
She gave him a blistering glare, then turned to the boat. “I don’t suppose you carry a compass in case you get kidnapped and dumped in a swamp?”
It was unnerving how close she kept getting to the truth. Hehadkept one on his person ever since he’d gotten kidnapped. “I do, actually, but they took it. You’re right, it’d be good to have one so we don’t go in circles. I can build one.”
“So can I.” She glared at him. “And mine won’t explode.”
“Girl Scouts again?”
Icily, she said, “Little Bit isn’t all marketing and design, you know. I may not be an inventor, but I understand the science behind our products quite well.”
Carter blew out an exasperated breath. “That wasn’t what I meant. I learned how to build my own compass in sixth grade science class.”
She eyed him suspiciously, then admitted, “Me too. Have you got all the stuff for it?”
He found a magnet and a roll of wire, and used his mini wire cutter to clip off a short length. He handed it to Fenella, who rubbed it against the magnet while he used his mini-welder to melt a sheet of plastic into a cup shape. Once it had cooled, he filled it with swamp water.
“Got anything that floats in your purse?” he asked.
She shook her head and picked up a leaf from the ground. “I did learn this in Girl Scouts.”
Fenella placed the magnetized wire on the leaf, and floated the leaf in the cup. They watched as it gently turned, orienting itself in a north-south direction.
“Compass accomplished!” Fenella cried.
They gave each other a high-five. Her dainty hand smacked sharply into his.
Glancing at the shadows, he said, “That way’s north. I don’t know which way we ought to go, though.”
“If most swamps are in the south, then shouldn’t we go north?” Fenella suggested. “It might give us a better chance of getting to the edge of the swamp instead of deeper in.”
He shrugged. “Sure. It’ll get us closer to Refuge City, if nothing else.”
They climbed into the boat. She picked up the oars, then eyed the clear water jugs with longing. “I don’t suppose we could spare some to wash our faces? And maybe our hair…?”
Her hair was plastered to her head with drying mud. Based on how his own hair felt, she probably not only found it depressing and disgusting, but also itchy as hell. He was deeply tempted, but said, “I wish, but we don’t know when we’ll get out of here.”
She didn’t take her gaze off the jugs. “Rule of thumb for water is a gallon per person per day. We’ve got five two-gallon jugs. So they can’t be expecting this whole thing to take more than five days, maximum.”
“Oh. Right.” He was once again impressed with her unexpected practicality. He’d never joined the Boy Scouts, but if they were half as good as the Girl Scouts apparently had been, he should have. “But you never know what might happen. And we can’t drink the swamp water.”
“I know. We’ll have to use that for bathing.”
They both eyed the black swamp water. His inner monster who communicated in color flashed [cozy deep blue] followed by [relaxed pale blue] and [happy aqua]. Carter did not find that reassuring in the slightest.
“I guess it’d be better than being covered in mud,” said Carter.
“I think it’s only that color because of tannins. So it’d be like bathing in strong tea,” Fenella said hopefully. Then she blew out a frustrated breath. “But I’m sure a one-day start isn’t as good as it sounds when you’re fleeing deranged kidnappers.”
Or deranged wizard-scientists,he thought.
