by Ben Archer
My feet hurt from the regrettable combination of cheap shoes and hours of walking absolutely nowhere. Hayden hasn’t said a word in an unbelievably long time. He’s spent most of that time staring at the ground. Not to be rude, but its been a welcome break from the constant dribble. For a person that talks all the time, he never really says much.
The unexpected break gives me time to focus on things like the slight warming of the air. There’s been an icy breeze my thin hoodie hasn’t been able to keep out, so I’ll celebrate even a few degree change. It’s also a sign that the long cold night is finally coming to an end. Feeling can now return to my long-frozen cheeks. They savor the subtle warmth coming from the rapidly changing sky. In fact everything changes so fast out here, within minutes, the entire sky is on fire.
My eyes twitch when it reaches the all-too-familiar shade of crimson. I have to force them away to enjoy the rest of the transforming world. Like the jagged mountains breaking the morning light into spectacular beams scattered across the valley floor. They lay on the ground like fallen stars waiting to be picked up.
The heat is rising much faster now. Frost doesn’t even have the chance to melt before being turned into steam. I already have a bead of sweat forming, somehow. There’s a thick blanket of haze rising from the desert floor like low-hanging clouds. I try relieving some of the warmth with a ponytail, but my hair is just short enough to refuse to stay up. After five more unsuccessful attempts, I surrender and just tuck it behind my ears.
Of course our path is leading us straight toward the blinding sun. I attempt to block it with my hand, only to find the reflection off the gritty sand is just as bad. Maybe worse. The ball of fire seems three times its normal size, angry as hell, and ready to swallow us whole.
Within the blistering heat is another major surprise, something on the horizon seems to be moving! It appears to twirl, swirl, and dance right out of the sun itself! The rolling waves of heat and distorted light may be playing tricks, but I swear a solid silhouette twists to life right before me.
Should I be frightened or relieved?
Is it even real?
I snap Hayden back to reality to be a second set of eyes. He confirms that, yes it’s very much real, and yes it’s definitely moving. His paranoia is already plotting an escape into the high mountains. While I certainly understand the caution, my curiosity shrugs it off. We can’t avoid the only living thing we’ve seen out here for absolutely no reason.
He reluctantly agrees after I promise to run at the first sign of trouble. But when he attempts to move in front, I shove him aside as a reminder that I can hold my own against whatever it is. For now it’s only a half formed silhouette against the raging morning sun. One with two heads, apparently.
Even as we get closer, both heads stay put. Recent flashbacks of the three-eyed creature have me suddenly reconsidering our course. Fortunately, one of the heads eventually spreads large feathery wings. It appears this is a normal, one-headed person, with an unusually fat bird on its shoulder. And the details get even stranger the closer we get.
The man is so lanky he could be a stick figure come to life. His rigid posture gives him a prim and proper appearance that seems wildly out of place in such a dusty hellhole. By comparison to the skinny man, the stubby bird looks to be as round as a bowling ball. In fact, it’s not until we’re almost right on top of them that I finally get a complete picture of our mystery couple. And they’re the exact opposite of what I expected to find in such a desolate place.
I’ll start up top with his rounded bowler hat; it’s the grey felt kind with a bushy white feather poking out. His long, rust colored coat has the thick chocolate elbow patches of a professor’s jacket. Resting in his thin hands is a beautifully crafted walking stick with a golden lion head topper. The stick looks too delicate to actually support a person, so hopefully it’s just for show. Every bit of him is dusty, but perfectly put together. From his wing-tip shoes that appear un-walked in, to the suit perfectly tailored to his leggy frame.
What I mistook for a fat bird is actually a splendid white owl with burning golden eyes. Tiny tan freckles decorate its otherwise pure-white body. He stares right through me as we approach. The man, on the other hand, just stands there talking to thin air. He’s engaged in a passionate conversation with an invisible partner that leaves him totally uninterested in me.
This is all Hayden needs to see before trying to push me away from the seemingly distinguished man. Of course this leads to a small shouting match while standing awkwardly close to him. Not that he seems to notice.
What’s the harm in talking to a man, standing alone, in the middle of nowhere? Really, what harm could he do?
I give the occupied man a slight tug to get his attention. “Hello sir! Please excuse my rude friend here, but we’re completely lost. Is there a bus, or road, or something nearby you could direct us to?”
He eventually drops his invisible conversation long enough to focus on me. “Good day young miss!” he proclaims in an excited cockney tone. “And what can I do for you this fine evening?” I’ll pretend the “evening” comment has more to do with a preferred greeting than mental stability.
“Yes, we were wondering if you knew a way out of…” before I can repeat the question, he interrupts.
“My name is Sir Charles Wilfred Templeton III and this is Bobo.” Now, I’m not sure if he just introduced me to the owl, or his invisible partner, but since the owl nods I’m going to assume the bird.
“Well it’s great to meet you Mr. Templeton. Now if you could tell me if there’s a…”
“And Bobo.” He blurts.
“Excuse me?”
“And Bobo dear. He’s very sensitive you see.”
“Of course he is Mr. Templeton. It’s nice to meet you Bobo.” The coo-coo expression Hayden makes over his shoulder forces a chuckle out at the end of my sentence. Interestingly, it’s the owl that turns to scowl at Hayden. I press on with my question, “Like I said, we’ve gotten kind of lost here and need…”
“We are all a bit lost dear. Why do you think we’re here? It’s to get found.” A rising excitement enters his voice.
“Yes, well, thanks. So as I was saying, is there a road or maybe some other form of transportation that got you here?” The easy question obviously can’t hold his divided attention; he’s already engulfed in another round of conversation with the invisible man. As much as it pains me to admit, Hayden was probably right about this one. The poor guy seems to know his bird’s name and that’s about it. We’re clearly on own getting out of this furnace.
I give the confused man a deflated thank you before turning back to Hayden. The look on his face screams, “I told you so” which makes me want to wipe it off with my boot heel. The only small satisfaction I get is from bumping his shoulder on the way by.
For some reason there’s still this nagging worry that I can’t get rid of. The crazy guy and his fat bird will die without food or water. I doubt they would even make it through the day. Insane or not, no one deserves that. Part of me wonders if he’s too crazy to drink it anyhow, or if he does make it through today, what about tomorrow? I try rationalizing a good reason to keep our water, except there isn’t one.
I quickly remove several large bottles and a few snacks from the overflowing backpack. I fill one bottle cap with water as a peace offering to the stern, fluffy bird. For several awkward minutes all she does is continue making her untrusting scowl. But in time the chubby owl finally shifts her ruffled chest down next to me. Her vibrant yellow eyes, inches away, speak loudly. It’s as if she’s accepting me, and threating my life, all at once. Then she dips her beak in for a hesitant first sip. That’s eventually followed by a few longer ones, prior to checking me out again. I hold steady as she takes her time gobbling down the rest of liquid.
After the last drop is gone, she begins proudly bathing herself on the man’s shoulder. I take this as my cue that she’s finally done with me. Who would have thought that giving an owl water could be such a
n intense experience! There’s without a doubt something special about that bird. It has me curious how such a magnificent creature came to be paired with such an equally odd man. It has to be one absolutely bizarre story!
I plant three water bottles at the man’s feet. The whole exchange seems lost on the man chatting up his imaginary friend. It’s not, however, lost on Hayden. I hear him raising all kinds of hell as I walk away from half of our supplies. His scolding tone reminds me of when dad caught me stealing toys from the market when I was ten. “Am I crazy?” he asks. “That’s all the water we have” blah blah blah. But when he reaches down to snatch the bottles back, I bluntly snatch his wrist. “We have more and he had none.” Hopefully he can tell by the sharp edge on my words that I’m serious. This is the first time I’ve felt anything other than anger since becoming this monster, and dammit, I want to enjoy it!
None of this sits well with him. He grumbles under heavy breath while storming off to finish his mild temper-tantrum. Tiny mushroom clouds puff up under his feet from stomping in the dry sand. It’s so over-the-top that it would be funny if I weren’t so pissed.
The sweat rolling down my face is a reminder to not enjoy the show much longer. Even though he’s only a few feet in front of me, Hayden’s already disappearing into the dust and heat. A few quick tugs ensures the backpack is tight enough for the long hike ahead. As my toes take the first step, “Miss” drifts in over my shoulder.
I turn to find his long arm held out to me. At the end of it is a small chain dangling from the tip of his finger. It holds a petite locket that’s leisurely spinning in the vivid morning sun. Light bounces brilliantly off its smooth silver sides.
“This is yours Miss.” he warmly says. “It will help you get found.” My lips part to decline it, tell him to keep his pretty trinket, but it’s already somehow in the palm of my hand. The aged chain is strangely cold in the scorching heat of the day. Delicate etchings and swirls flow gracefully down both sides. Every new look reveals some masterful new detail I missed before. Engraved on the back is a lovely inscription in a language I can’t read.
“Patris amor. Amor patris.”
The words flow beautifully, even if I can’t understand them. They lock my cheeks into a frozen smile just from speaking them aloud. It’s the kind of feeling that transforms the world into a fresh place. “I don’t know what to say Mr. Templeton. Thank you isn’t enough for such a wonderful gift!” Stumbling through words to fully express my gratitude.
“Say you will live a long life dear.” All the confusion is gone from his voice. “You had better go now, Quinn. Your friend is almost out of sight.” It’s sadly true. As much as I would love to finish this conversation, Hayden is barely a blip on the horizon. I don’t know if he doesn’t know I’m not with him, or simply doesn’t care.
“And don’t forget to go to the left” The distinguished man concludes confidently. I have so much to ask Mr. Templeton, including the meaning of “go to the left,” but he’s right, I have to get going if there’s any chance of catching up to the pouting prince.
I secure the brilliant locket around my neck before running to catch up. As I turn to wave at the puzzling man, I find that he and the bird are already engulfed in a massive gust of wind that devours them completely. The sand forms a tight cone as if a tiny tornado has touched down right overtop them. Then, just as mysteriously as they arrived, they’re gone again.
Chapter 31: Blossom on the Tree
What the hell was she thinking!?!?
The old nut bag was visibly crazy! So what does she go and do? Give him half our water! Look, I’m as understanding as the next guy, but come on! We gotta look out for ourselves!
“Who knows how long we’re gonna be out here Quinn!!!!” Of course my screams get no answer. It’s because she knows there’s no excuse for it! My frustration builds with each step out into the bleak landscape. The more sweat that falls, the more rage I throw her way. She owes me an explanation AT THE VERY LEAST! There has to be a reason why she would do something so irresponsible without even asking me first!
“OK, in the future, when you make a decision that could get us killed, could we at least talk about it first?” I spin around to find absolutely nothing behind me. I’ve been wringing my hands in disgust at no one! Where did she go? I’m positive she was behind me when… oh no. Don’t tell me she stayed back there with Capt. Crazy-Ass and the winged volleyball! Maybe she had to give him her shoes or something too!
Whatever.
At least I can stop wasting all my time worrying about her and concentrate on getting out of this damn furnace! But ughhhhhhh, she still has what’s left of our supplies! I only have a half-full bottle and it’s going fast. At least she didn’t give that away too! Well she can keep them! She’s gonna need all the help possible if she’s staying with that maniac! Besides, I’ll travel faster without her, and it will be nice not worrying about someone else for a change.
All this sounds great, but the farther I walk, the more my legs want to turn around. I slow to a crawl while my head and heart battle for control. Does she really need me? I’ve seen what she’s capable of, but the enemy here isn’t something you can fight.
My feet have already unconsciously turned around. I guess there never really was much of a choice. Besides, I can just scoop her up and we’ve lost maybe twenty minutes. The whole “I’ll travel faster without her” sounded tough, but let’s be real, I would be dead with only half a bottle of water.
Within minutes a tiny speck appears on the horizon. It seemed to be heading toward me before stumbling into a small sandstorm. All I can see now is a blonde poof of hair inside the intense storm. It’s a good thing I did come back. She never would have caught up to me with this thing! For a selfish moment I wonder if this could be karma for her wasting so much of our water.
Only for a moment though.
One long…
Sweet…
Delicious moment.
Once it’s over I get back to figuring out how to help her. Going headlong into a cone of swirling shrapnel doesn’t seem like much fun, although it looks like that’s what’s gonna happen. I charge in without another thought and find it even worse than it looked from the outside. “Kneel down, then put the pack over your face!” I scream to the stuck girl. She shouts something back that I can’t hear either.
I hastily rip off my jacket (that’s seen a lot of use lately) and throw it over both our heads. From inside our new bubble I’m free to repeat, “I said put the pack in front of your face!” She doesn’t respond to my snide smile and seems content to huddle in silence while the sand finishes lashing our cocoon.
Holding the jacket up exposes my stomach to the raging tornado. For the most part, it’s like rubbing fine grit sandpaper against my soft belly, although it will occasionally hit a spot that’s like grinding salt into a fresh wound. Fortunately the storm doesn’t last long enough to do much more damage than fill every crack on my body with sand. Behind both knees, between every finger, even the folds of my eyelids get filled with grit.
Quinn has an entirely different problem. Her wavy bob has become the best afro you’ll ever see! Judging by her expression, the same could be said of me. Our shared chuckle sets a positive mood to return to the desolate road to nowhere. But it’s not long until our refreshed spirit is thrown into a blender ─this time by Quinn.
“Turn left” she declares quite forcefully.
“Alright, why left?”
“The last thing Mr. Templeton said was to go left.”
“Well if that pinnacle of knowledge says to…” Safe to say the good mood is gone.
“Trust me, I think he knows what he’s talking about. Let’s try it.” I wanna disagree just to spite the crazy ol’ bastard, except this appears to mean a lot to her. Besides, what do we have to lose? We don’t have a clue where we’re going anyway. If it makes her feel better, let’s go left!
“How left would you like to go? Like a gradual tilt or full ninety degrees?�
�� Judging by the wrinkles crawling across her nose, she isn’t amused.
“I don’t know. Just go left.” She instructs while rubbing a silver pendant with her thumb.
“Well that’s new isn’t it?”
“It was a gift from Mr. Templeton.” She answers briefly.
Fair enough. No matter how much I really want to start a new verbal brawl, I suck it up, and work on getting us out of here before we kill each other.
“Is this ok?” pointing slightly off to the left.
We’re back to our silent march under the scorching sun. Small talk comes rarely, and when it’s there, it’s forced. Mostly by me. To make matters worse the scenery never changes. The mountains always look the same, no matter how far we go. Nothing we pass says “living things are here.” Time is the only thing left crawling in this desolate place.
Chapter 32: Wildfire
Hours pass with no sign of anything good for us. This is a place where even vultures don’t scavenge. My forehead is the first to beg for relief from the unforgiving, merciless sun. It’s grown tight enough to move as a single sheet of thick skin every time I squint. Of course, there will be no break today. The only shade is the soaring mountains, and they seem to run further away as we can walk toward them.
Our time in the sun has taken a heavy toll on us. What little remaining water that’s let has been rationed tightly, but still doesn’t go very far. Two sips every fifteen minutes has turned into one every thirty. Dehydration was tolerable when it was only a dry mouth, but now it’s a dull ache pulsing through my everywhere.
Each step directs a new bolt of pain to rip through me. Nothing is left out. My feet hurt from walking, eyes from straining to block out the sun, even the tips of my ears are burnt from baking so long. We can’t even distract ourselves with some tasty snacks because the salt would burn our chapped lips. Plus it would make us crave the cooling relief of water that much more.
If we were ever making progress, that time has long passed. Now we’re stuck at a grinding pace that feels slow, cruel, and pointless. Needless to say my frustration grows with every finished bottle of water. What if we had those other bottles? Why didn’t I just take them back? Would she really have stopped me? What right did she have to decide that for us? The “what if’s” are really starting to pile up.