“Alcohol won’t help you.” He shook his head and looked up at the sky. “I don’t think it’s going to rain today.”

I resisted saying I told you so. “So what are we going to do?”

“We need to find water.” He looked down, and I could see him thinking. “We need to go to the ocean.”

“What? We can’t drink the salt water. Even I know that will kill us.”

“No, we’re not going to drink the water.” He jumped up. “We need to collect the rocks.”

“The rocks?” I froze. “Why?” I had images of him pummeling Steve—and maybe myself—to the ground. I could almost see the pools of bright red blood in the sand. I shivered at my morbid thoughts and shook my head.

“I think I know how we can get some water.” Jakob’s eyes looked at me searchingly, and I knew that he had witnessed my shoulders shaking.

“From the rocks?” I frowned. How were we going to get water from the rocks? “You’ve heard the saying that you can’t squeeze blood from a stone, right? I’m pretty sure you can’t squeeze mineral water from it either.”

“Bianca.” He gave me a wry smile. “Please, just start collecting rocks from the ocean.”

“What are you going to do?” I huffed. “I’m not your slave.” You can tell me what the plan is; I’m not too dumb to understand, I thought.

“I’m going to show Steve what he needs to do.” He gave me a smile and then looked down at Steve, who was watching us with a curious expression on his face. “You do agree that it wouldn’t be fair if we asked Steve to shuttle rocks back and forth, what with his bad leg and all.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Steve frowned, and I could tell that he was annoyed that Jakob had pointed out his inferiority. “I may have a slight impediment, but I assure you that I can still get the job done.” His tone was snide as he spoke to Jakob. Then he looked at me and smiled. “I can assure you, Bianca, that I’m very capable of getting the job completely done.”

“Come with me,” Jakob said, grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him up hard. “I’m going to need you to dig a hole.”

“A hole?” I exclaimed, my mind once again drifting to thoughts of someone getting their head smashed in by a giant rock.

“Bianca, why aren’t you going to get the rocks?” Jakob snapped, and I ran toward the water.

My heart skipped a beat as I reached the water and looked back. I saw Jakob and Steve walking farther away from the water toward the sand dunes. I reached into the water and pawed at the ocean bed. Why did he want me to find rocks? And why was Jakob having Steve dig a hole? Was he planning on killing one of us and then burying the body? I looked out at the empty horizon and shuddered. What I wouldn’t have done to have seen a yacht sailing along the smooth waters in that moment, or even a young guy on a Jet Ski. I’d feel bad about leaving Steve and Jakob behind, but I’d make sure to get help.

“Have you found any rocks yet?” Jakob’s smooth voice made me jump as he entered the ocean behind me.

“Not yet.” I shook my head and went back to running my hands along the seabed. “How many do we need?”

“We’re going to need quite a few. The larger the better.”

“What for?”

“Survival.” He walked away from me. There he was with that word again. I wished he wouldn’t keep saying it. The word survival made me think of death, and the last thing I wanted to be preoccupied with was my own mortality right now.

I stared at his back for a few seconds before turning around.

“So did your parents have a happy marriage?” Jakob called out to me as we looked for rocks.

“I think so,” I answered, not knowing how to respond. “My dad really loved my mother. He was devastated when she died.” I felt a pang of pain in my chest as I recalled my father sitting on the couch staring at a photograph of my mother. “He never loved anyone after her.”

“So it was true love, then?”

“Yes, I believe it was.”

“It’s ironic what love can do, isn’t it?” He came closer to me.

I could see a fairly large rock in his hands, and I stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Love can make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but it can also crush you. It can crush you so that you feel like you don’t want to live.”

“I think love is what people make of it.” I bit my lower lip. “It only controls you if you let it.”

“What if external forces are making those decisions?”

“I would hope that adults could make their own decisions when it comes to love.” I shrugged. “And if they can’t, maybe it isn’t really love.”

“It’s easy to be philosophical about love, isn’t it?” His tone changed, and he looked away from me.

“I guess so.” I stared at the rock in his hand, contemplating telling him about my father and how he’d let the loss of my mother take over the rest of his life. I loved my father more than anything, but I was still so angry at him for letting her death dictate the rest of our lives. Especially if there were signs related to her death that he’d missed because all he could think about was her grief. “So what are you going to do with that?” I asked softly, and took a step away from him. I knew that now wasn’t the time to tell him about my father’s letter. I saw his eyes narrow as I moved back, and a small smile curved on his face.