Desert Wake ✔

Ch. 12, pt. 1: The Up and Left

"Can you please talk like yourself for a minute?" Ro turns a frustrated face towards mine. I'm walkin' alongside his new sled, which is actually one of Tegan's old ones, loaned out to us fer the duration of our trip west. Ro don't enjoy ridin' while the rest of us walk, but it ain't like we cain all pile on board and expect Nessie to pull us all clear to the sea. And, I'm sorry, but he'd just slow us down if he walked. His ankle might be better, but it ain't no twenty-five to thirty miles a day better.

"I thought you'd be pleased, Rordan," I say real snooty, trying to goad him into rollin' his eyes at me. Tryin' to make him laugh, if I cain. "Wouldn't you prefer it if I always spoke as though I'd been raised in upper-crust society?"

"No I wouldn't. And besides, it's creepy, hearing that voice come out of your mouth. I'm not used to it."

"Well git used to it," I tell him, revertin' to my normal speech. "Tegan's right. I gotta act my way onto that ship or her whole plan falls apart."

"Fine, I get it. But when it's just you and me, May, promise me you'll talk like you normally would."

"Well, of course, my dear. I wouldn't dream of doing anything my darling husband would regard as inauspicious."

Ro half-grins. It ain't no laugh, but I'll take it. "You're going to make it onto that boat, May."

I kiss him on the nose. We left the cave with Tegan and the others nearly a week ago, and I been practicin' the whole time. It's surprisin' to find myself havin' this much fun pretendin' I'm someone else. An actin' troupe traveled through my town a few years back and I was so taken with 'em, all their bright costumes and makeup, I couldn't help wonderin' what it would be like to run off and join their company. But I had the farm and Granddad to think of, so when the troupe moved on, I stayed put. Now, it's like I truly have done and joined 'em. I'm on the road practicin' fer my next role. And not doin' sich a bad job if it, come to think of it.

It sure is nice to travel with folks who know where they're goin' and how to git there. Gina and Vern each pull a sled loaded with supplies and goods. Despite their weight, the sleds glide with surprisin' ease over the land and accordin' to the traders, it's actually less strenuous to pull them sleds than to attempt carryin' everything' on their backs.

Them traders, they got their system down pat. They know where to go to find shelter at midday and they know where to find water and a safe place to sleep every night. I'm not sayin' it's a picnic walkin' all that way, but it ain't so awful as I thought it'd be. Most of my stuff rides on the sled with Ro, so my shoulders ain't so sore. And I'm enjoyin' the new muscles this desert is forcin' to grow on me, even if they ache something fierce by the end of the day.

After the rough patch we suffered at the beginnin' of our journey, I cain't believe how mundane the days is gittin'. Not another livin' soul makes an appearance, and Tegan assures us we ain't bein' followed. Ain't nowhere fer anyone tailin' us to hide, so I suspect she's right. With no lawfolk in the area to fear, the days is all 'bout gittin' that much closer to our destination—nothin' more. I practice my rich folks accent, Nessie pulls Ro along over the dunes, and the traders add a safe and companionable presence to our journey. I'm hot and sweaty and sore, but I cain breathe again. And the desert, if it is awake, it don't pay us no mind.

Course, good days is bound to run out at some point. And when they do, they turn bad right quick.

#

We cross over into semi-arid land some two weeks after settin' out with the Tegan and her lot. This patch cain't but remind me of home. It's got that destitute feel to it, like it's someone tryin' to keep themselves from ruin, stay out of the poor house, quit drinkin'. But they just cain't, they cain't. One night they find themselves at the bottle and the next they got no home and nothin' to call their own. That's what this place is like. It's just about to crack that bottle open with abandon but it's still in denial about hittin' bottom the next mornin'.

Almost makes me homesick just thinkin' about it... Unlike home, though, there ain't no towns here, or no towns with people in 'em anyways. After a day's hike through the semi-arid zone, we find ourselves in a real and proper ghost town. Whole place has been abandoned, and no wonder. Anybody with a lick of sense cain tell this place is the desert's next meal.

"Everyone up and left three years ago," says Gina. She looks 'round with a sort of longing on her face, as if she got a stake in this shriveled little speck on the map. "Most of 'em are beggin' on the streets of the capital by now."

"This where you grew up, ain't it Gina?" She nods but don't say no more. I know better than to prod into a person's miseries, so I let the matter rest.

Winds is pickin' up speed again. The dust's alive and dancin', ready to jump its borders and kick apart this up-and-left town. Seems we're gittin' out just in time.

Past that town is our next aim—mountains with barely the remnants of snowcaps still clingin' to 'em in the end-of-summer heat. There's a pass through them, or so I been told. I cain't quite believe there's an easy way through, lookin' at their towerin' height hidin' the settin' sun directly to the west.

We set to pass the night in what used to be the town's boarding house. Fer the first time since we left the farm, Ro and I got us some real privacy.

"Finally." Ro closes the door behind him. I don't know how much time the people had to prepare 'fore they left this place, but they ain't took none of their stuff with 'em. I guess draggin' it all somewheres else wasn't too appealin'. Well, the point of me mentionin' it, is that this room of ours got itself a bed, and when Ro says "finally," ain't no mistakin' what he plans on doin' in that bed.

He pulls me over and gits to the business of takin' off clothes, both his and mine. "Ro, I got two weeks of dust on me."

But he don't care. "I'll take you just as you are." He nips at my neck. "If you'll do the same for me."

Dusty and road weary though he may be, he's still a sight I'd happily drink up any day.

"Well, you do smell something awful, but I suppose I cain be persuaded to see past it." Laughing, he hoists me up onto him, bare legs straddling his middle and then kisses me like I'm the first drop of water he's had all week. My arms and legs wrapped tight 'round him, dust pressed against dust, I let him carry me over to the bed.

The desert trail and all the sorrows we been carrying on ours shoulders is pushed aside. We let ourselves ferget fer a time that there's anything but the two of us, that there's still people in the world who mean us harm. We ferget that we ain't invincible, that what we have together is as delicate as a seedling struggling against the dust.

We let ourselves be at ease fer a time. That's most likely our first mistake.

A/N: I can't get May's last sentences out of my head. What do you think will happen next? Maybe they'll find a cute puppy dog who will lead them to a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow! Or... maybe something not quite as pleasant? 

Vote donations are still going to support May's acting lessons. They're paying off, don't you think?

This chapter's dedication is for my friend Linna1029 who's series SHADOWS SAGA I am constantly talking up because it is that awesome.  Also, she has a new story starting up called BRIDGE OF SOULS, which will be a twist on grim reapers, and I'm super excited for that!