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My tanned skin was smeared with muddy drops of water. Everything looked the same. Not a single marking or symbol was present.
It didn’t feel like a hallucination. It all felt real.
I turned in a half-circle, stumbling a few steps at a time. I searched the area around me. The parched crimson dirt had small cracks intersecting, but none made a coherent marking.
They were just freaking cracks in the dirt.
The five empty canteens were a few feet from my legs next to my pack. All were filled with water to the brim. Not a drop ran down the side.
I peered down into the bottles. The water was crystal clear. Not a single speck of dirt swirled at the top or the bottom. Trembling, I recapped each bottle, screwing it tightly into place.
“What the hell, Charlie?” Logan yelled, running toward me, throwing his pack onto the ground.
