Deep

by Leesa Birch

  DEEP

  Book 2 in the Lake Dweller series.

  By Leesa Birch.

  Edited by Diane Hall of the Writing Hall.

  Cover art by Christel Michiels of Darkyria Design.

  1

  The ground beneath me was hard and dry. Lying on my side on the dirt I tried to move. My body ached all over. Sitting up and looking about me, I could see that the ground was red. The sun was harsh. Once my eyes had adjusted to the brightness I took a better look around.

  Waking up in the middle of a rocky desert was bad enough. Waking up in the middle of a rocky desert with no memory of how I got here, or who I was, wasn't the best start to my day. “Hello!” I shouted. With the vastness of the red landscape, my voice didn't even echo. The only sound was the dust on the baked ground moving under the slight breeze.

  Wiping my dusty hands on my jeans I checked my pockets for some form of identification; no money, nothing with a name on, just a card for an auction. Rubbing my head, I called out again, “Hello, can anybody hear me?” There was no answer.

  I didn't know who I was but judging from my accent I think I was English I couldn't recall any desert-type places this big in England, so I guessed I was far from home.

  Standing slowly, I checked myself for injuries - nothing major - but rolling up my sleeves there were marks on my arms, bruises and needle marks - was I a junkie?

  Parts of my face felt tender, and there were small brown marks around my waist, they felt like burns. Rolling my sleeves back down and straightening myself out I looked across the horizon for a road or any sign of life - nothing. In the distance there was a large rock formation and a small amount of green breaking up the Mars-like surroundings. I figured I'd head towards it - maybe I would see something from the top, or the green could lead me to water.

  I figured there were only a few explanations for why I was alone in the middle of nowhere; firstly, alien abduction?

  It could explain the marks on me and my lack of memory. It could have been a kidnapping gone wrong, although a brief look at what I was wearing didn't scream ‘wealthy person’. So I guessed a ransom wasn't exactly feasible.

  I jumped as a small lizard scurried past my feet. My shoes were becoming quite hot - I needed to find shade where there was none. I wasn't sure how long it was going to take me to reach the large rock so I picked up my pace a little. Several thoughts crossed my mind on my journey. After deciding that aliens more than likely didn't exist, and that I wasn't a wealthy type whose kidnapping had gone wrong, could I have been an escaped mental patient? I didn't feel insane, but then again, I wouldn't, would I? Maybe this was the result of a really great hen party. I wasn't exactly dressed for a party either, but being so drunk that I'd lost my memory sounded far more realistic. Friends leaving me in the middle of nowhere to find my way back, also within reason. My stomach turned. Does this mean I was supposed to be getting married? If so, I was going to be very late indeed.

  As I wandered across the dry, cracked ground, the small sporadic pieces of green drew slowly closer. The marks on my arms itched under my clothes in the searing heat. Rubbing them gently, so as not to aggravate them, I noticed the lack of a ring on my fingers. Was it possible that I wasn't the bride to be, just one of the wedding party? I felt sad at the thought. I had just become used to the fact that someone might be waiting for me, or searching for me. I wasn't feeling good about any of my explanations so far. It could be a student prank involving a lot of booze. I could be a mature student - I didn't know how old I was but I felt very old under the unforgiving sun. The harder I tried to remember something - anything - the thicker my brain fog became.

  Stopping to take in more of the surroundings, I suddenly felt very strange. My head started to hurt and I felt like I was missing something really important. Rubbing my forehead, I tried to ignore it and carry on. I wasn't that far from the rock now; it was looking a lot bigger the closer I came. After a few minutes, the pain in my head disappeared as quickly as it came. It was probably dehydration.

  The rock was about thirty or forty feet across and maybe twenty feet high.

  Walking around it, I decided to climb in the shade - the rock was too hot to touch at the front. Looking for a stable handhold, I grabbed the warm, red rock and started to pull myself up. I was really hoping not to meet anything with more legs than I had, so I avoided the deeper cracks and holes.

  I coughed as the breeze blew dust in my face. The grit in my eyes stung. Stabilising myself the best I could, I rubbed my eyes on my sleeve. Once I could see again, I reached for the top. Rolling onto the flat surface and out of the shade, the sun hit me square in the face.

  Slowly standing, the muscles in my legs were shaking - barely able to hold my weight. I looked around at the desert below me, there were no buildings or signs of life except my own. I turned full circle slowly. The landscape was scarily large. The sky seemed to go on forever.

  Just as I was about to panic, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Turning too quickly, my foot slipped on the loose edge of the rock. Regaining my balance with my heart pounding from my near fall, I followed my gaze. With my hand above my eyes, sheltering them from the glare, I squinted. There was a car in the distance - there was a road! It was the same colour as the desert, I would have missed it only the car left a dust trail. It was too far to attract its attention from here, but at least I had somewhere to head to.

  I lowered myself down the side of the rock facing the road’s direction. I wasn't concentrating as well as I should have been and missed a foothold. I lost my grip with my tired hands and slid the last ten feet or so. I landed harshly on my bottom and a cloud of red dust rose around me, making me cough. I was glad no one was around to see my seriously ungraceful dismount. Dragging myself to my feet, I pointlessly brushed off what dust I could. I needed a bath.

  I walked with all the strength I could muster in the direction of the road. As the heat bore down my energy deteriorated quickly. I couldn't tell whether my vision was blurring or if it was just the heat rising from the ground. I couldn't see the road from ground level; I could only hope I was going in the right direction.

  I had no idea how long I had been walking for, each step pained my legs and feet, I hadn't seen any other cars since my descent from the flat-topped rock, surely I hadn't missed it? There was no point in stopping now, I didn’t want to think about what could happen if I spent all day out here with no water. I had to think positive, or about anything that would take my mind off my current predicament.

  Halfway through my fantasy involving a large, cold puddle and a sudden downpour of rain, I stumbled upon the road - literally - I scuffed my shoe, almost tripping over it. Now for the hard decision - left or right? I studied both directions, they were identical. The road just went on and on, blurring into the distance. I would’ve tossed a coin if I’d had one. I took one more look both ways and decided to follow the direction in which the car had gone.

  The tarmac was camouflaged in its Mars-like surroundings, the red dust had almost completely covered it. I walked along the side of the road as the hard, scorching surface had started melting my shoes beneath my feet. I wondered how long it would be before another car would drive by. It wasn't exactly rush hour.

  I was walking for what seemed like forever before I heard a low rumbling sound over the whistling plains. Turning round, I noticed a small dust cloud in the distance - it was heading this way. Straightening out my clothes, I stood with my thumb out. Hitch-hiking wasn't exactly safe, but neither was dying from exposure.

  As the small red truck came into view, it started to slow down. I tried to form a partial story ready in my head as the truck pulled over next to me. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the side window was startling. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, I was hoping
I would recognise the person looking back at me, but I didn't; not even a flash of memory. I looked mid-thirties, pale and tired. The door swung open revealing an elderly man with a concerned look on his face.

  “Where you headed?”

  “The next town, if that's alright,” I answered.

  He leant back into his seat so I could get in. I exhaustedly slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. My stomach turned unnecessarily and I held myself.

  “I know what you mean, honey, I have an ulcer that is trying to finish me off. But there's plenty of life left in this old buzzard yet.” I smiled at the gentle-faced man. “What's your name, hon'? It looks like I came along just in time.”

  He pulled a bottle of water from the pocket in the door and handed it to me. I drank most of it before I answered him.

  “Debbie, my name is Debbie.” Of course, I didn't have a clue what my name was. It just hurt my head to think too hard about it. I guess I must have looked like a Debbie as the man didn't question it.

  “My name is Carl, but you can call me Jumpy.” Jumpy shifted the gears again with a crunch.

  The inside of the truck was old but looked well-loved with the faint smell of smoked wood. The radio was on low, playing some old country songs in the background. Staring out of the window, I was grateful that I wasn't walking any more. I wasn't sure what to do once I reached the town but my thoughts were interrupted by Jumpy. He jerked in his seat and I clenched my stomach as it joined in.

  “Them's sympathy pains,” he chuckled at me. “I suppose you have an interesting story as to why you're stranded in the middle of Arizona.”

  Arizona. That would explain the redness of the landscape and the heat. Reasons as to why I was here escaped me.

  “Not so interesting,” I offered. “Some friends thought it would be funny to strand an English person in the middle of the desert. Not really nice, was it?” He considered my explanation before continuing.

  “Nobody needs friends like that, Debbie, maybe it's time to find some new ones.”

  Grateful that an axe murderer hadn't picked me up, I relaxed slightly. Drinking the rest of the water my host had graciously given me, I asked him, “So why do they do they call you Jumpy?” I settled in the comfy, old leather seat and waited for an answer - eager to hear someone else's story as I had none of my own.

  Shifting in his seat, as if settling down for the night, he began his tale.

  “It was a nickname given to me in my younger days. You see, miss, I used to work with loggers, do you know what that is?” He looked briefly at my nod before turning back to the road ahead. “Back then, we done it mostly by hand. The machinery we had was back at the plant, so cutting down the trees was a hard job with long days. We would sometimes sleep out in the woods to save time getting back out there in the morning.” He sighed a little and flicked on the headlights, I hadn't realised that the sun had been slowly setting.

  “I miss those days. The peace and quiet. Fresh air and good company. Anyway, sometimes trees fall by themselves, old age or illness. When they go they make one hell of a noise in the night. Used to make me jump every time. So the boys started calling me Jumpy. Never really shook that one off; that's what happens when you come from a small town. What's it like where you live?”

  That was a hard one, I hadn't really thought that far into my story. So I tried to change the subject.

  “How far is it into town? It's getting late and I need to call my friends to come and get me.” Checking the dials on the dashboard he calculated something in his head. After a short while he agreed with himself, “Maybe twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic.” He nudged me and smiled. Smiling back, I stared out of the window. There were a million and one stars above us, if only one of them could take away my frustration of not knowing who I was.

  There were lights in the distance, a few white ones but mostly pink and blue. It didn't look much like a town though.

  “Is this it, are we here already?” The lights grew stronger as we approached. We slowed down and pulled off the road with a thud. It wasn't a town - it was a diner complete with motel and petrol stop. Turning off the engine momentarily, Jumpy turned to me.

  “This is as far as I take you, honey, not exactly what you're used to, I guess. But there's a phone, food and a room if your friends can't get out this time of night – okay?”

  A slight panic enveloped me. I didn't know what I was supposed to do next with no money and no real plan. I turned to Jumpy,

  “Thanks for the ride, Jumpy, you most likely saved my life - I won't forget you.” I hoped I wouldn't anyway, I hoped the amnesia was a one-time only thing. I opened the door of the old red truck and slid out into the, now cold, night air. My feet had recovered slightly but not enough.

  “Take care of yourself, miss.” The light in the truck went out as I closed the door. The engine started and he pulled away, kicking up dust by my feet. I sighed as I was alone again.

  Looking round at the diner and motel, I could see a pay phone slightly hidden under a flickering white bulb. I made my way over to it, pulling out the card I had found in my pocket. The card was for an auction, with the name ‘Griffin’ on the bottom and a number next to it. It was my only clue. Picking up the receiver, I dialled for the operator; I could only hope this Griffin character knew who I was and wouldn't mind me reversing the charges. The squeaky voice of the operator sounded, asking if she could help me. As I held up the card to the light, so I could see the numbers more clearly, a gust of wind took it from my hand. Dropping the phone, I tried to grab the falling card. It hit the dirt and rolled too fast for me to catch it. I scrambled for it but it blew out of the range of the light. “No!” I yelled into the darkness.

  Tired and infuriated with myself, I sat on the bench by the road’s edge, fighting back a tear. “There's no buses this late, miss,” came a small voice. I looked up. I didn't realise that this was a bus stop.

  Turning, I saw a pink and blue waitress’ uniform with a mass of blonde curls piled on top of a happy-looking head.

  “My God, you look just awful. Are you okay?” I was too tired to lie, so I figured the truth would have to do.

  “I'm not sure where to start.” My voice wavered as she sat down next to me, listening intently. “I don't know who I am. I woke up in the desert this morning. I can't remember how I got there. I have no money and I'm filthy.” The last part made her giggle.

  “Sorry,” she said, quietly. “I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that ‘filthy’ sounded funny in your accent. I suppose it's pointless asking you where you're from. You really have amnesia?”

  I wiped away a tear and looked at her properly. She seemed sincere. I shook my head.

  “Alrighty then, I guess we should get you cleaned up and call Wade.” I didn't have time to argue - she had already pulled me up and was walking me towards the diner.

  “My name is Beth, my family runs this place.” She pointed at the blue and pink lights that spelled out ‘Myers’. “We should call you something until you get your memory back though - any preferences?” I thought back to my reflection in Jumpy's window. “Debbie, I guess.” I could live with that. “That's just fine, you look like a Debbie,” she said.

  Opening the doors to the diner, the smell of food reminded me that I didn't know when I’d eaten last. Considering we were in the middle of nowhere, the place was quite busy. People turned and stared as we entered, I guessed I did look that bad.

  “Ya’ll go on with your business, nothing to see here.” She sounded stern but she was smiling when she said it. I guess she knew them. She walked me to the far end of the counter and sat me on one of the red stools.

  “I'll get you something to eat while I call Wade. He's our friendly law enforcement officer - he may be able to help you. Don't look so worried.” Beth wiggled off behind the counter and out of sight.

  Looking round, most people had gone back to their conversations and food. It was a friendly looking place. I missed home, wherever that was.
A plate of fries hit the counter in front of me with some chicken on the side. “Thank you,” I said, looking up. A large, happy man was smiling at me.

  “Lost, eh? Not to worry, you’re in good hands. I'm Joe Myers; this is my place.” A sharp lady’s voice cut in from somewhere in the back.

  “Actually, this is my place, Joe, you just work here.” Joe scoffed as the lady came into view and put her arm round his waist.

  “This lovely lady here is my wife, Marie.” She held out her free hand over the counter. I took it and she squeezed it hard. “Nice to meet you, Debbie - Beth's just finishing up in the back.” I wasn't sure how to thank these people, they were all being so nice and calm about everything.

  Beth came back to the counter as I ate my fries. “Sorry, Debbie, Wade can't make it out here tonight, something about the fair in town. He should make it around lunchtime tomorrow.” Joe scoffed again.

  “He always makes it out here for lunch.” He turned and went back to the grill. Marie watched while I ate my fries and some of my chicken before turning to Beth.

  “Why don't you take your new friend over to the motel and get her settled in.” She stroked Beth's curls as she spoke. Beth pulled away.