Oasis

by Katya de Becerra

  * * *

  As my senses were reawakening, my first legible thought was of guilt. Last night I’d made a mistake. A big and regrettable one. I went outside during a sandstorm—a big no-no. Dad would be so embarrassed and livid with me. Worse even, I dragged my friends along. I never found my father last night. But then … I remembered how a monster of a four-wheel drive appeared to be flying out of a black column of sand and how it fell down, flattening our tent. Whatever voice it was that called to me, whether imaginary or real, it had prompted me and my friends to go outside right before our tent was smashed. It saved our lives. The rest of my memories from last night were starting to return, but most were blurry and distant. Did I really help rescue some girl who was pinned down by a fallen electrical pole, or was that a fever nightmare?

  Dry and sluggish, my tongue struggled to move. I heard a moan, and it took me a few breaths to realize it was me as I attempted to spit the sand out of my mouth. The mind goes to mysterious places in times of crisis. In that moment, I couldn’t help but think about all the ancient Egyptian mummies stuck in museums around the world: well-preserved bodies with such terrible teeth—teeth often rubbed off to the nub. The lack of effective dental care was a great unifier in ancient Egypt: Even royalty got their teeth sand-damaged. The sand was the force that couldn’t be stopped by palace walls or army hordes.

  With the sand mostly out of my mouth, I focused on my other senses. A slight hissing sound reached my ears. One of those electric lamps, a survivor of the storm, just like me? But other than that—nothing. I couldn’t detect a single noise.

  The next thing I realized was that my left arm was immobile. Then the pain flooded back. Dull and throbbing, it immediately consumed most of my upper body’s left side. Aspirin! My kingdom for an aspirin. And a ride to the nearest doctor’s office!

  With my right arm I reached out to feel the area around me. I was lying on uneven ground. Every time I moved, sharp ridges dug into my skin. I dared open my eyes. Or more like, I peeled them open, as my eyelids were sealed shut with sand. At first, the only color I could distinguish was milky white. Or no color at all, to be exact. A wave of panic choked me as I strained to open my eyes wider, blinking rapidly and deeply, hoping to jolt my vision back into action. Gradually, the all-consuming whiteness morphed into pale blue. The sky. And not a cloud floating above. I shifted my view to the side and saw … sand.

  Sand dunes, stretching far, disappearing into the horizon. I twisted my head to the other side. Same view. No sign of the dig camp. Just sand everywhere.

  I remained on my back, unable to face what I was up against. When the rest of my perception crawled back in and stabilized, I managed to sit up. My head reeled from a headache the size of the Nile. Thirst and pain wrestled for domination. Working through the mind-numbing agony, I pulled up my left arm and clutched it against my chest, whimpering as I did so. Though it didn’t look terribly damaged to me, my left shoulder was a swollen mess. I suspected it was dislocated. I hoped it was dislocated and not something worse.

  “Dad?” I croaked, the sound turning into a cough as sand grated against my throat. “Tommy?”

  “Alif?” A faint response.

  A shape, strikingly dark against the dunes, rose slowly.

  He wasn’t far. Tommy. The rush of relief put a huge grin on my chapped, sand-crusted lips.

  Nearly blinded by the uncompromising sun, I struggled to watch Tommy’s lone frame as he shuffled toward me. Just to be sure, I yelled out, “I’m here.” I attempted to get myself vertical just as the sand mound to my right began to tremble. On my wobbly feet, I edged away from it and watched as a face appeared out of the sand. It was followed by the rest of Lori, who was covered by the nightmarish sand blanket from head to toe. Dried tears made clear paths on her face, stretching from her eyes down to her chin.

  The three of us huddled together, forming a small circle. I wavered on my feet but resisted the urge to lean on Tommy or Lori for support. Neither of them looked like they could support anyone right now, though I bet Tommy was slightly better off than Lori and me. At least when the storm hit he was wearing his camp uniform, which would fare better in the open desert than yoga pants, singlets, and shorts. At least my towel was still tied around my neck. The top of my head was already starting to burn under the morning sun, and I seriously considered wearing my towel on my head like a stereotypical elderly Russian lady.

  Lori interrupted my fashion deliberation. “Rowen was right next to me when we dashed.” Her pale hair hung lankily around her reddening face. Like a group of zombies, we hobbled around, searching for the rest of our group. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to discuss our predicament. It was becoming very obvious with each step we took that we were in lots and lots of trouble.

  Eventually, we found them. Minh, Rowen, and Luke were all half buried in the sand. In the eerie tradition of Pompeii body casts, the three of them lay twisted close to one another, enwrapped in sand and shadows and one another’s limbs. Luke’s hand was flung over Minh in a protective way that perhaps should’ve made me jealous but didn’t. Their mouths were slightly open, breathing in the scalding air. They were alive.

  I called to them, urging them to wake up. Tommy and Lori did the same. Minh was the first to open her eyes. She let out an inaudible whisper, and I leaned in closer to hear it. I could swear a cloud of cold air escaped her lips as she spoke. But it must have been just sand coming out of her mouth or an illusion brought on by the heat and twisted by my panicking mind.

  I knelt next to her. With my uninjured hand, I moved Minh’s hair away from her face. I untied the towel from my neck and used it to clean the sticky patches of sand from her cheeks. Lori helped Rowen sit up, leaving Tommy to slap Luke awake.

  “Water?” Minh asked me, her eyes pleading.

  “Sorry,” I replied.

  I didn’t want to say it, to acknowledge what was surely already on everybody’s mind, but someone had to. “I don’t see the camp,” I said.

  “That’s odd,” Tommy replied, fiddling with his wristwatch, which looked a lot like that semisentient communication device on Futurama. “My compass has lost it.” The more Tommy focused on the gadget strapped to his wrist, the more the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened. He was muttering under his breath, “We couldn’t have gone that far from the camp. And even if we did, the camp is east of Dubai … And the only serious patch of the desert that borders the camp directly is to its north … But none of this makes sense anyway because we couldn’t have wandered that far from the camp!”

  I watched Tommy, following the movement of his lips, forcing myself to focus. What he was saying about the geography of the camp made sense to me, triggering a faint memory of how we got to the dig from the airport, though I wasn’t really paying that much attention at the time. I said, “So if we walk against the rising sun, shouldn’t that get us to the areas near Dubai? There are settlements out there. And once we get there, all we need is access to a phone.”

  “In theory, that should work,” Tommy replied.

  “In theory?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “My compass must be broken.” He shook his head, annoyed and lost.

  Broken compass or not, we didn’t have much of a choice. We gathered in a disordered line and began our trek through the sand and the heat, guided by the sun. I was at the end of the line when I made a sudden stop. The towel in my hand gave me an idea. I dropped the towel to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Lori sounded concerned and suspicious. I blinked away the droplets of sweat clouding my vision. “Leaving a message for our rescue team.” I knelt down and spread the towel out in the shape of an arrowhead, its tip pointing in the direction we were headed.

  By the time the sun reached its zenith, we came across a desert arroyo, not too deep but steep enough to create a thin line of shade. Lori and Rowen were keen to keep going, and it took Tommy a solid effort to convince them they were going to get themselves killed by the sun and the h
eat if they continued on in the desert during the day. Reluctantly, they stayed. The six of us clustered in the shade like a family of mice under the stairs of an old house, waiting till the killer sun started to set.

  HEMINGWAY, BONES, AND MIRAGES

  I could kill for some strawberries.

  Strawberries and water.

  And that ride to a doctor’s office, where painkillers are plentiful.

  I should’ve been a Girl Scout. I should’ve done some orienteering or something super physical besides swimming. But instead, the closest I came to wilderness survival “training” was all that time I put in mindlessly consuming episode after episode of Man vs. Wild. Minh made fun of me for watching a show where a ripped dude drank his own urine to “survive.” According to her, if you have to drink your own urine (or anyone’s urine) to survive, then nature has already defeated you. But now, all I could see was vast arid land extending in all directions, and all I could think was how scared I was. Surrounded by dunes that appeared to be in constant motion, I couldn’t even concentrate on how breathtakingly gorgeous it all was. No … All I was capable of wondering was—would this be how it’d end for me? Would this be where I’d die?

  “Let me have a look.”

  I looked up to find Tommy standing over me. Not waiting for an invitation, he knelt next to me and reached out for my numb left hand, curled up against my chest.

  “I’d rather not move it,” I protested, though I wasn’t sure whether my reluctance was due to the threat of more pain or the possibility of Tommy’s touch making me dizzier than I already was. I blinked hard. “It’s already much better,” I lied.

  “Let me have a look. Please?”

  Hesitantly, I nodded, and he reached out for my injured arm, gingerly separating it from my chest. I let go, allowing him to run his fingers over my skin, poking and prodding my sore shoulder area. I watched his face while he was too busy concentrating on my shoulder to notice. It was a rare unguarded moment when I could stare at him without getting caught. Interesting to know: Your crush on someone didn’t go away when you were near death.

  The moment ended when Tommy let go of my arm and awkwardly placed it back against my chest. “Just a sprain. It’s not dislocated.”

  “How do you know?” It came off whiny. I enjoyed Tommy’s attention and didn’t want it to end, the terrible circumstances of it be damned.

  “Because you would definitely feel it every time I made your arm move.” He smirked and stood up to leave. He didn’t go far though—the arroyo was nothing but a ditch the size of a kiddie swimming pool—and returned carrying what appeared to be Minh’s scarf. “Here, let me.” Tommy knelt by my side again as he made a sling from the scarf to support my left arm. Once it was done, he walked away fast.

  My mouth open in unsaid Thanks, I watched him retreat to the farthest corner of the arroyo. Then I noticed Luke staring at me. His eyes were dark holes and unblinking. He looked like a ghost stuck between two worlds, and it made my skin crawl.

  * * *

  We resumed our trek at the first sign of the sun nearing the horizon. With no food and no water since our dinner at the dig camp, I was losing my focus, my limbs getting heavier with each step. Our heavy drinking last night didn’t help the situation either.

  Minh’s scarf served me well, and I thanked her for it the first chance I got. As we left the arroyo’s shade, my mind started to wander, my feet dragging against the sand. I was a mess. My friends didn’t look much better off. We were like an undead herd, our spirits cramped into bodies that were no longer able to move the right way.

  Tommy assumed the role of our unofficial leader, but the longer I watched him, the more I could tell he had no idea what he was doing. When he thought no one would notice, he threw befuddled glances at his compass. Each time, he frowned. Was he thinking the same thought I was? How the hell did this happen to us?

  From our ragtag group, Lori seemed the most out of place. During our reprieve in the arroyo, she had readjusted her sparkly headband, which held back her no-longer-very-slick hair. She was pouting like that was gonna get someone to come to her rescue sooner.

  We had to stop by some thorn-covered bushes when Lori announced she needed rest. This rare patch of vegetation stood up against the sands, its silhouette spiky and unfriendly. By now, even Tommy knew it was useless to argue with Lori, so we just dropped right where we stood. Tommy lay down next to me and closed his eyes. Before I could overthink what his choice of a rest spot could mean, Lori demanded I come with her. Minh was already on her feet, and, staying together, we followed Lori behind the denser-looking section of the scrubland, where it reached our waists.

  Without a word of warning, Lori pulled down her shorts and crouched.

  “All right then.” Minh shrugged and shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking away from Lori’s stream of dark liquid as it turned the dirt ashy black.

  Lori finished and stood up, giving us a withering look. “What? Are you judging my unladylike behavior, or are you waiting for a special invitation?” That provoked another shrug from Minh before she took a few steps away from us and squatted on the ground, though not without a certain ballerina-like grace. Feeling the peer pressure, I joined Minh but avoided looking down.

  You could survive without food for more than three weeks. Without water? Three days. Maybe four. And the first sign of trouble? Dark urine.

  * * *

  What stopped me from falling into total despair was compartmentalization. As I forced my feet to move again, slipping on the sand and listening to my fellow strandees’ heavy breathing, my brain offered a shiny picture to distract me: my bed, fresh linens straight from the dryer, crisp and inviting. Oh, to run my legs against their coolness. The picture helped. But only a little.

  The sun’s behavior was peculiar. We’d left the arroyo at first sign of sunset, but as we ventured farther from our place of temporary rest, the bright disc on the horizon seemed to fluctuate in size—shrinking or dilating every time I took a look at it.

  Tommy’s frustration was clear in his voice. “I don’t get it! We’ve been moving for hours. There’s no way we could’ve gotten this far out during the storm. No way!”

  His sudden outburst earned no answer.

  My eyes drawn upward, I registered a black dot of a bird briefly swooping across the luminous sphere. It flew up, circling us from above. I heard its distant call, and another bird answered. Scavengers were gathering. Waiting for us to drop. What was it Hemingway wrote about vultures? Something about them being a sign of impending death.

  * * *

  During another rest stop, Lori was first to pick up on a weak glint of gold in the distance. She froze dead in her tracks and stared, pointing a finger at whatever was flashing at random intervals. “The high-rises of Dubai!… But how?”

  We looked in the direction she was indicating and, indeed, there was a faint glimmer, pulsing weakly. Though it didn’t make me think “high-rises of Dubai” but rather a lone lighthouse stuck in the desert. But high-rises or not, we were all mesmerized until Tommy’s harsh voice jerked us out of our collective trance. “It’s a mirage. We need to move against the sun and away from those lights.”

  “We’ve been going against the sun this entire time, and now the sun has changed its direction, apparently,” Luke snapped. “I suggest we stop going against the sun and go toward that light.”

  It must’ve taken a lot of Tommy’s self-control not to scream back his response at Luke. “Do you know how many people died in the desert when they thought salvation was near? And I’m sure they believed until their final breath that what they saw was a human settlement or an oasis, but none of it was real. They died of dehydration and sunstroke!”

  Minh, her nose and cheeks burning red from the sun, came to stand next to Lori. Swaying on her feet, she placed a hand on Lori’s shoulder but addressed Tommy, “We’re lost. Obviously, there’s something wrong with our sense of direction. We’re all hallucinating that the sun’s n
ot moving the way it’s supposed to. We don’t know where we are, and this glimmer may be the only hope we have of surviving.” Their movements eerily synchronized, Lori and Luke nodded in agreement. Tommy rolled his eyes at them and then looked between me and Rowen, the only members of our group who hadn’t yet expressed views on the subject.

  “I say we go toward the light.” Rowen nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, cutting off any attempt from Tommy to persuade him otherwise.

  I found everyone staring in my direction, waiting for me to support or reject Tommy’s advice. I sensed that regardless of what I would decide, the group would go toward the glimmer. Our collective mind had been made up. And yet they were still waiting for me to weigh in.

  I shaded my eyes with my hand and focused on that patch of sand at the distance where Lori saw what she thought was our salvation. I couldn’t deny there was indeed something there. It was a flickering kind of light, and now that I studied it, its pattern wasn’t like that of a lighthouse at all. Instead, it was random and sporadic in strength. Some blinks were longer, more intense. I wondered if it could be a piece of glass or a mirror dropped by some traveler. Or could it be a larger man-made object, a part of a roof or a wall, but reflective somehow? Solar panels? None of that explained the erratic pattern of the light though. But maybe whatever it was could give us shelter, possibly even hold some supplies. Was it irrational? My brain must’ve been fried if I was imagining a little house in the middle of sand-covered nowhere. Not just a house, but a house stuffed to the brink with canned goods and bottled water. And strawberries.

  “If we were to vote, I guess those who wanted to go toward the light would win anyway,” I said. Tommy’s face changed. Speaking against him, even indirectly, made my stomach flip. But I didn’t owe him anything. I was trying to be realistic. I added in haste, suspecting what he might suggest next, “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to split up and go our separate ways.”