Wednesday, July 28, 2010

She's crying when I come to: we are all in the room, and I'm surrounded by supplies, like a survivalist Christmas, and the others are all dressed in comfortable, loose fitting clothes (four others, precisely). Except Jasmine. Jasmine is dripping wet and naked, and crying.

First things first, I check myself. I have my camping-food bars, and a book, and bottles and bottles and bottles (seven total) of water. I walk over to Jasmine and take off my jacket, set it gently on her shoulders. "What happened?" I ask her.

"I wanted to shower first. It was early this time!"

I check my watch. She is right, the time on the face (mechanical, roman) is a good fifty minutes before the usual time.

"What were you supposed to bring?" I ask, shooing the others away.

"the buckets."


"I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," I say, looking around. We'll make do, and once the bottles start emptying out, we'll fill them back up again.

"I'm hungry." This is John.

"Not yet. Why didn't you eat before we came here?"

"Fell asleep."

"In all that gear?"

John nods.

I sigh. I stand up. I say: "Okay people, we've got three days, and a liter and a half of water each, and four cliff bars each. This isn't going to be easy, and I'm going to be doing the count down. I hope you all made the appropriate arrangements and." I pause. I breathe slowly. I continue, "And I hope this is the last time we all see this room."