Youslus had brought a tool kit and a crate of spare parts that may or may not have belonged to the motor. Then he crouched down on his haunches, just out of reach of his prisoners, the shotgun straddled across his knees, and watched Leggy work. Teddy worked with a pickaxe down in the pit. Steady, ringing blows echoed throughout the canyon. Derek and John sat against the cliff wall, husbanding their strength. The cliff faced east, and the bright sun stared them in the face as it rose through the morning sky. By noon the sun stood directly over their heads, baking their skulls. They were parched with thirst, tongues thick and swollen in their dry mouths, heads pounding. Finally, Derek spoke. “Water,” he said. “You got to get us some water. Especially Teddy. He’s been workin’ all morning.” Youslus looked up and blinked, as if he’d forgotten about everything but the motor. Now he shook his head as if waking from a daydream, noting the position of the sun in the sky.
