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intentionally left it unlocked to tempt her. Anna had no intention of trying it. If it had been left unlocked as a trap, she knew she would probably fall for it. The call of the Pacific was even stronger than her loathing for the pipe.
    But, there was the peep window. Anna stuck her finger through the little bars in the window and slid the shutter open. Why would you need a peep window into this room? To check if the room was flooded, perhaps. Could there be another reason? Sister Elizabeth made me enter the room first, even after checking the window.
    But Anna abandoned these thoughts as soon as she felt a draft wafting through the little window – a draft that would keep the tunnel clear of fog. She wedged a chunk of debris between the bars to hold it open. Then, taking a deep breath, she plunged back into the pipe.
    Anna made three more trips down and back up the pipe without incident. She heaped debris into the cart until it could hold no more. Her impromptu elbow pads held up better than she had hoped and her knees were breaking down about as she had expected. The knees didn’t bother her much, though, because she couldn’t feel them. Her fingers, too, were numb with cold.
    Noon came and went without an appearance from either Sister Elizabeth or lunch. Anna was disappointed but not surprised. The sisters always honored their promises, in their own way, to the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and such. Anna knew if she kept working, they would feed her eventually.
    When lunch finally arrived, Anna was at the bottom of the pipe. The bell struck one as she shoveled driftwood and fish parts into her sack. Sounds traveled to her down the pipe, the familiar clatter of the door screeching open, an annoyed grunt, then the clank of a metal plate on the stone floor. She held her breath and listened. The door opened again, then slammed. There came a second, smaller slamming noise, the peep window being closed.
    She had reached the iron grate, though the last clot of sea junk partially obscured it. Rust had diminished it to a net of lumpy wires, but they appeared to be intact. Her sack wasn’t full, and if she filled it, she could nearly call the job done, but hunger was louder than logic. She scrambled out of the pipe, leaving her sack and trowel behind.
    Lunch was toast and fish stew, the same as every lunch she had eaten over the past five years, except that today the stew was cold. She consumed it before she knew she had started, and downed the tin cup of water in a single guzzle. Not until it was gone did she realize how thirsty she had been, and still was.
    There is plenty of water here, somewhere . This is where all the water comes from, but how do I get it?
    On the far wall of the chamber, water glistened around the edges of the iron plate. It dripped from a slimy film of algae and rust that grew around the plate’s seams. Rust streaked the lower half of the wall. It bore other marks as well, wear marks, grooves worn into the iron.
    It’s a drainage control gate for the cisterns, Anna thought, a flush mechanism.
    A narrow gap ran along the top edge of the plate. Beyond the iron wall lay another chamber, a chamber full of fresh water.
    Anna examined the lift chain and the huge gears of the apparatus. A locking lever and ratchet device held the plate in place. A vertical strip of iron teeth ran from floor to ceiling along one side of the plate. A wheel gear engaged these teeth and was in turn engaged by the ratchet lever.
    Anna squeezed the ratchet catch and let the locking lever drop one notch. The plate slid down about an inch. She hooked her fingers over the top of the plate, stood on her tippy-toes and peered into the space beyond, a square channel receding into the darkness. Water rippled a few inches below the top edge of the iron plate. She returned to the lever and lowered the plate two clicks more. The gap widened enough for her to reach over and fill her cup.
    The water tasted sweet, so sweet she filled and