“Hey!” Stanley shouted, hoping to scare it back inside. His mouth was very dry, and it was hard to shout very loudly.
“Hey,” the thing answered weakly. Then a dark hand and an orange sleeve reached up out of the tunnel.
Zero's face looked like a jack-o'-lantern that had been left out too many days past Halloween— half rotten, with sunken eyes and a drooping smile.
“Is that water?” he asked. His voice was weak and raspy.
His lips were so pale they were almost white, and his tongue seemed to flop around uselessly in his mouth as he spoke, as if it kept getting in the way.
“It's empty,” said Stanley. He stared at Zero, not quite believing that he was real.
“I tried to bring you the whole water truck, but,” he smiled sheepishly, “I drove it into a hole. I can't believe you're...”
“Me neither,” said Zero. “C'mon, we got to get back to camp.”
Zero shook his head. “I'm not going back.” “You have to. We both have to.”
“You want some sploosh?” Zero asked. “What?” Zero shaded his eyes with his forearm.
“It's cooler under the boat,” he said. Stanley watched Zero crawl back through his hole.
It was a miracle he was still alive, but Stanley knew he would have to get him back to camp soon, even if he had to carry him.
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