Chapter 13

On the other side of the island, six chipmunks were dragging their feet through the sand to make letters. They were sweating and exhausted, but they’d managed to write out SOS! But the letters weren’t much bigger than they were. No one was going to see them from the sky. Only they didn’t realize that.

“It won’t be long before a rescue plane sees our message and gets us out of here,” said Alvin, collapsing in the sand.

“I don’t hear any planes,” said Theodore. “Or helicopters. You think Dave is coming in a hot air balloon? ’Cause those things are really quiet.”

“Theodore, it is highly unlikely Dave will be coming in a hot air balloon,” said Simon, wiping sweat from his cheek with his shirt.

“But he is coming, right?” There was more than a little fear in Theodore’s voice. The sun was going down, and soon it would start getting dark. He didn’t like to be alone without a grown-up nearby.

“Of course he is,” said Alvin reassuringly. “Just … maybe not today.”

“Alvin’s right. We should prepare to stay the night,” said Simon.

Brittany was flabbergasted. “What? You guys expect me to sleep outside?” Her fur was already a mess from the perspiration. She needed a hot bath and a warm bed with clean sheets.

“Last I checked, Brit, we’re chipmunks.” Alvin laughed. “We’re used to living in the wild.”

Brittany tossed her head and made a small snorting noise. “No, we used to be used to living in the wild.”

“C’mon, it’s just one night,” said Eleanor.

“One cold night,” Brittany grumbled.

Alvin was not going to waste this opportunity to impress Brittany. It was time to show off. “We’ll make a fire,” he announced confidently. “We’re always setting things on fire accidentally. How hard can it be when we put our minds to it?” He began gathering up stray pieces of driftwood washed ashore on the beach. “All I gotta do is light it.”

Simon was standing back, shaking his head. “And how exactly are you intending to do that?”

“I will create a spark by striking this rock with my pocketknife,” he explained. He’d seen it done on a television survival show. It didn’t look that hard. He put his paw into his pocket, but it was empty. “The knife that Dave took from me.”

Simon laughed at him.

“Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea, smart guy?”

“Actually, I do,” said Simon. He took off his glasses and held the lenses toward the setting sun. “As you can see, the lens concentrates the energy of the sun, thus giving us fire!”

Simon couldn’t believe it. He’d actually done it. He’d made fire! At his feet, sparks had begun to light. Simon had managed to set his own furry feet on fire! He frantically brushed the sparks off his paws, and they landed on the pile of driftwood that Alvin had collected. The pyre burst into flames.

“And that is how it’s done,” said Simon, pleased with himself.

Happily, the chipmunks huddled around their blazing fire, drying off and warming up.

“See?” said Alvin. “We’re warm, and if a rescue helicopter comes by, they’ll see us because of the fire! Everything’s gonna be fine.” He was always optimistic that things would turn out all right.

It grew darker, and the chipmunks grew sleepier.

“Good night, guys.” Jeanette yawned.

“Good night,” said Theodore. He picked up a handful of sand in each paw and threw it onto the fire. It went out. They were plunged into total darkness.

“Theodore!” yelled a chorus of little voices.

“What?” said Theodore, confused. “Dave always turns off the light after saying good night.”

Simon groaned. “That fire was kind of keeping us warm.”

“Can’t you just relight it?” asked Theodore.

“How?” said Simon.

“With your glasses. And the sun!” explained Theodore. But the moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake. “Oh.” There wasn’t any sun anymore.

The chipmunks settled in for a long, cold night on their deserted island.