I wake up to a pounding head and a burning throat. It seems like last night's glug of alcohol won't be as forgiving as I first hoped.

I peek up from the top of my sleeping bag to where Mum is still fast asleep, wrapped up like a mummy, a single strand of hair swaying every time she breathes.

One glance at my clock tells me it's eight-fifteen in the morning. Just when I'm about to turn on my side to fall asleep again, a piece of paper littered on the floor next to me catches my eye.

With a jolt, it all comes flooding back. I'm supposed to meet the girl by the river.

* * *

No one is awake when I cross the digging site and make my way down the path to the river. All along the campsite, there is dried earth, cacti of all shapes and sizes, and tall, rough grey rocks. On the horizon, jagged mountains climb, peaked with snow.

The girl, who signed B, is in the water again. Only this time she's changed to shorts and stands about halfway across with a shovel. I watch as she scoops out brown mud from the riverbed.

"Hello," I say as I climb down onto the rocky bank.

"You're late," is her only reply. She goes on digging, and the only sound to be heard in the silence is her shovel dipping into the water.

"Don't just stand there!" she snaps, turning round to face me. I notice her face is devoid of makeup today. But her eyes are still bright and her face still pretty. "Are you going to help me, or did I call you down here for nothing?"

So it was her who'd written the note last night. I'd had my doubts.

"Is your name really B?" I ask as I stoop down, take off my shoes, and roll my jeans up to my calves. Then, I take the spare shovel, slightly wincing at how heavy it is.

"No," she replies. "It's Beatriz."

"Behwhat?"

"Beh-ah-tree-th," she says slowly. "It's Spanish."

"You're Spanish?" I suppress a shiver as the cold water laps against my feet.

"Mum is; I'm half. But you can just call me Bea if you want."

"Bea," I repeat, going in a few steps more. "Like the insect?"

She nods, and heaves another clump of wet sand onto the pile, narrowly missing my face. "And you're Jules, right?"

"Julian," I correct.

"Sweathead sounds better." Again, there's the sly tone in her voice.

"But—"

"Shut up and start digging."

* * *

As soon as Bea realises I'm useless at digging, she calls out on it straight away.

"Stop splashing me!" she yells, throwing her shovel into the water, soaking me. "If you want to be useful, go to the pile and see if we've found anything."

So, I leave her to her digging and plop myself down on the small beach. Then I begin to sift my hands through the sloppy, grainy mud.

"No, not like that," says Bea. "Get the metal detector and do it."

It takes me a few seconds to realise what she's talking about. A little further ahead, a small metal stick with a disc on one end lies on the sand. I crawl towards it, surveying all the buttons and options on the screen. Taking the initiative, I press the 'on' button, and it beeps to life.

It takes me a while to figure out how the thing works but I soon get the hang of it. I flatten out the mud into small sections and wave the disc at the end of the rod slowly over it. Occasionally there'll be a beep and we'll jump in excitement, but it'll only indicate vast quantities of zinc and iron, two of the metals which Bea said to ignore.

"We're looking for gold in the alluvial deposits," she reminds me.

Though through all the debris that I sift through, the gold bar doesn't light up even for a second.

We carry on like that for a while. In silence. Feeling the scorch of the sun on our backs; listening to the rustling of the trees, the gentle humming of the water, the splashing of Bea's shovel, and the rare beeps of the metal detector.

And then a new sound joins in. It's a low rumble, something that shakes me to the very core. Bea puts down her shovel on the bank, brows furrowed.

"The water," she gasps, trailing a hand in. "It's vibrating!"

Curious, I scoot to the river's edge and slide in. The water hums around me and it's not long before the whole thing is bubbling like a soup.

"What is this?" I murmur.

And then I scream.

Heading towards us is a ripple in the water. I can make out scales that glimmer in the sunlight, a flash of silver, more ripples.

"Get out!" Bea is yelling.

But it's too late.

The water engulfs me, and the world turns black.