Desert Wake ✔

Ch. 9, pt. 1: Our Daily Salvation

"Ro! Oh gods." I pull on the rope but it don't give. Not. At. All. 

I'm gonna lose him. Ro will be dead, and where will that leave me? Alone with a dang goat out in the middle of this godsdamn good fer nothing wasteland.

I keep tuggin' away, useless though my efforts may be, cuz what else am I supposed to do? I cain't give up. I don't give up even with that hopelessness pricklin' the back of my neck like it's a plague of lice come to suck me till I'm all hollowed out; nothing more than a blade of dried prairie grass.

Purdy soon though, I'm sittin' back instead, rope still taut in my hands, watchin' what I'd begun to think was impossible: as the shack gives itself to the desert, the dust has to relocate itself somewheres. It drains away, and slowly, the shiftin' ground releases him, lets him claw his way out the rabbit hole into the world again. I'm so shocked at Ro's resurrection, I cain barely move.

The desert, a place that takes and takes and takes—it gives, finally. It gives me back my Ro.

After I git over myself, I realized I cain't be still no more. The disbelief is gone and now I gotta act. I scoop dust away from him, which ain't easy seeing as though it's makin' a funnel, aimin' to suck him back down into the shack. But soon the shack is full up and that's when things git easier.

A little more strugglin' and he's free. I reach fer him, heave him onto my lap, clearin' away the dust from his eyes and nose and mouth as best I cain, barely thinkin' of poor Reba, lost to us fer sure, I am that relieved to have him back.

I didn't believe him about the desert handin' out favors, but now I get to thinkin' I was too quick to judge. Cuz here he is, sputterin' and breathin' hard, but breathin'. Alive. My Ro. And besides that, we got two days and a dust storm 'tween us and them lawfolk. Truth is, that storm almost killed the lot of us, but it may have saved us, too. If they was on our trail, Jacob Longbow and his lawfolk friends may not have even survived that storm, and now even if they did, there ain't no trail fer 'em to follow. The dust saw to that. Them men gonna be hard-pressed to find us now, and I cain't believe what I got to thank fer that.

Maybe the desert don't hate me after all.

#

It don't take me long to lose my sense of optimism. We're down one goat, and that stings something awful. We tried to save her, of course. Pulled on her lead, dug, dug, dug. She was too deep, poor girl. We could've tried all day, but she'd have choked on the dust, long before we'd managed to git to her, if we managed it at all.

Givin' up on her ain't sittn' well with me, but the dead don't ask us to undo what cain't be undone. We gotta accept that.

My heart aches fer that stubborn goat, but from a survival kind of way of lookin' at things, what's worse than Reba's desert burial is the fact that one of her coffin mates is a piece of tin sheeting. We lost our sled.

"You know it wouldn't fit through the hole anyways," says Ro.

I kick at my bag. "Don't make its absence suck less."

"I'll be okay. My leg is better, really May."

I turn myself away from the sun, pretend its harsh rays are the reason fer my eyes to be waterin' up. After a moment, all I gotta say is, "Well, all right then. Let's git."

Gittin's all we cain do. Sun ain't gonna burn less if we stand here debatin' our woes.

We load Nessie up with some of our heavy baggage, but even with her help, my shoulders feel awful sore after a time with all that weight on 'em. When the heat of the day chases us off the path, we count ourselves fortunate to discover the side of a barn, still halfway standin', which provides a bit of shade and a place to lie against.

While we're restin', Ro consults his compass and unrolls his map.

"We've got to start heading south-southeast now."

"Why's that?" I stare down at his map. He's pointin' to one of a series of tiny black X's next to which have been scrawled some nearly incomprehensible words.

Ro smiles fer the first time since we set out the day before yesterday, and I find myself unaccountably reassured.

"Water."

It's Ro's belief that each X on the map is our daily means of salvation.

Ro done told me that old trader back in the north gave him locations fer water sources, but I didn't necessarily believe they was applicable to this particular stretch of desert. No one never passed by my farm to come this way, and I mean no one. Granddad always said its cuz there ain't nothin' but death waitin' fer folks out here. I'm tendin' to believe this was one of the few sober thoughts Granddad ever had, given our trials and tribulations so far, but Ro, he don't see it that way.

He's gonna lead us to the nearest X on the map, there'll be water there and that's that. Ain't no room in his head fer doubt. I've never been one fer blind optimism, but I keep my comments to myself. At least we have a direction to set our feet towards. We have a goal, whether it's real or just the invention of a no good trader who done wanna steer Ro to his death, and me with him.

By the time we spy what I suspect is that long sought fer X, Ro ain't walkin' so good. He's usin' a stick I found fer him a ways back as a make-shift crutch and I cain tell from the set of his jaw that he's hurtin'. We need water, shelter, and rest.

The land ain't flat here like it has been so far. Craggy orange rocks stick up out of the ground like hands of buried giants. Followin' Ro's lead, we head towards one of the biggest and circle it till we come to its southwest side. Despite the sun shinin' its end-of-day rays on that area of the rock, there's a section cut into its center still held in shadows.

"A cave." Ro lights our lantern. "Just like the trader wrote on his map."

I tug on Nessie's lead, and follow him inside. Sure 'nuff, after a long narrow passage that slopes down as we shove our way along it, the space opens up into a sizable cavern. The air's different here. Cooler, moister. I ain't used to the feel of that, but I take it as a good sign that we will indeed be drinkin' our fill tonight.

That's 'fore I spy them faces starin' at us from across the cave, of course. One by one, lights flicker on and the sounds of guns bein' cocked echo through the chamber. We just woke a whole band of armed folks.

A/N: Ro lives! But Reba... poor, poor Reba.

Who do you think the people May and Ro have just come across are? They have guns, locked and loaded. Ain't good. How's our brave young couple going to get out of this one?

This chapter's votes will go to the Reba Memorial Fund :(  If you need to pause in order to mourn before clicking the golden star, I understand.

I'm dedicating this chapter to  court617 who REALLY wanted me to post early (and I did...12 whole hours!). She's been voting up a storm, giving to all of the various DESERT WAKE charities. I'm sorry I couldn't spare Reba's life for you, Courtney. Sometimes beloved characters must be sacrificed for the sake of plot development. I'm feeling pretty guilty about it at the moment, though. Honest!