Pedestals of Ash Read Free Page B

the surface, he noticed barely moist grains sparkling on the blade of his spade. Another half a foot, and the color of the soil changed, indicating it was moist. Three feet down, he hit bedrock and couldn’t go any deeper.
    Using his hands, Bishop pushed around the damp grit and made a bowl-sized indentation, hoping enough water would seep in from the sand and pool on the bedrock. He knew it wouldn’t be much, but even a couple of mouthfuls would work wonders right now.
    Rather than sitting around watching the hole, Bishop thought it best to hedge his bet. He began making his hole wider and deeper. When he reached the dampest earth, he started dumping each shovel of tacky soil into a large black trash bag. When he had filled the plastic bag to the point where he worried about lifting it, he twisted the top and struggled up the bank with his load. 
    Bishop labored under the weight of the moist   earth while he   searched for   a good patch of soft sand that was fully exposed to the sun. He started digging again. In 15 minutes, he excavated a round hole that would be a perfect sized grave for a car’s tire. He took another large black bag and lined the entire bottom and sides of the pit, using small stones to hold the edges of the plastic liner in place.
    Carefully, he dumped the wet sand onto the plastic liner and spread the   damp grains around evenly. Next, he placed his drinking cup directly in t he middle of the moist sand, then covered the hole with the now empty bag. Using more stones to act as paperweights, he sealed the cover as tightly as possible using the original contents of the pit. It dawned on him he could add to the moisture content of his new solar still, so he folded back one side of the cover and urinated inside. His dehydrated body didn’t make much liquid, but every little bit would help. Bishop re-covered the pit and stood back to look at his field craft. One task remained, and he hurriedly added the final touch. He placed a small pebble in the middle of the cover, directly over the cup inside. The quarter-sized stone was just heavy enough to cause the plastic to sag downward in a concave-shaped roof over the pit without touching the lip of the cup. As the sun heated the black cover, the damp sand would surrender its moisture. The humid air would condense on the inside of the plastic bag. The droplets of pure water would be pulled downward by gravity to the lowest spot, which was right above his cup. Bishop smiled, imagining the small rivulets of water dripping into the vessel. It would take some time to recover a usable amount of water, but it was the best he could do at the moment.
    Not far away, he spied a healthy looking cluster of vegetation and retrieved two clear plastic bags from his pack. Picking the leafiest branches, he slid the plastic bag over as much of the gr een leaves as possible. Next, he placed a good-sized rock in the bag, causing the thin stems to bend, allowing the tip of the bag to rest on the desert floor. He used two of his gear ties to tightly seal the open end of the bag around the base of the stems. His contraption looked like he was trying to protect rose bushes from a late frost, but in reality, Bishop knew that the plant would give up precious moisture in order to cool itself from the hot air inside the bag. The humidity trapped in the plastic should condense and run down the inside to the lowest spot – the rock resting on the ground.
    He proceeded back to the streambed, anxious to see if there was any water at the bottom of his pit. Hopefully,   among the three sources, he would get enough H2O to continue his journey without harming his body. His heart was pounding, as he slowly looked over the edge of what he hoped was a well and not a dry hole. There was water! Not much – maybe a quarter inch deep and mostly mud, but WATER!
    In seconds, the suction hose from the water filter was in the hole, and the discharge end was in his mouth. He pumped