Streaming through the desert

“Is this even the way?”, says the man.

“Of course!”, I shout over my shoulder as I adjust my pack. It was lie, I have absolutely no idea where the hell we were, I’m no orienteerer. Orienteering-er? Orenteerer? One who orienteers.

Look, it’s been about two hours since we last saw the tour guide and let me tell you the Sun only gets hotter the longer you’re under it, so I’m not exactly a word smith right now.

Anyway, I’m just following the path same as him. Tony said as much, the tour guide, square shoulders with an orange scarf. “…and stick to the path if you get lost”, he said with a malignant chuckle, but it may only seem that way now.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘A scarf you say?In the desert?’. Well no. It was more like a piece of fabric one would use to shade one’s scruffy looking face from the Sun. A little specific I suppose, but hey, that’s what I saw.

Old mate, the man, (I don’t know his name, it’s actually a little awkward) on the other hand isn’t so worried about the Sun. He reminds me of my old Spanish teacher from highschool, Mrs. Aguilar. She was stern but fair, and passionate till the end about Spanish. She was actually Namibian and not from Spain, which made for a very interesting accent. Anyway, she was 5 foot 11 and built like a brick house, hence why he reminds of her.

Maybe I should ask his name. I mean, he might be the last person I see alive… now that’s an unsavoury thought. And not because I don’t know his name but I’d much rather die at home, if I could choose to die anywhere. That said, getting lost on ‘safari’ wasn’t so bad.

That’s what Tony called it, a ‘safari’. He’s a capable man but a showy one also. If he put as much effort into something productive as he put into looking good without seeming like he tried, he’d be a millionaire. But wouldn’t we all, sigh. He’s certainly not one for clear and detailed instruction anyway.

You’d think something like a quant but deceptively long wooden bridge in desperate need of repair would be blocked off and a detour marked, but not so. And sure, I decided there was time to peel off to explore the bridge, and sure, I may have enticed ‘old mate’ with the prospect of intrigue to get him to come with me, but I’d hardly say it’s my fault the bridge gave out after kicking the support post on the other end. I mean, who was to know.

I don’t think ‘old mate’ saw me do that last bit, all for the best I’m sure, last thing we need is a conflict. We’re a pack now, he and I, together facing the scorching desert, miles away from civilisation, but I digress.

Oh man, what I wouldn’t give for like a nice cold beer right now. Like the kind of cold that’s almost unbearable, brain freeze territory. Yeah, what I wouldn’t give for a brain freeze, at least I’d be cold. I wonder if ‘old mate’ has a beer, stashed in his pack somewhere perhaps. No, ridiculous, I doubt he’d share.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”, says old mate.

“Maybe we should rest.”, I reply, already lowering my pack and collapsing beneath the nearest cactus with the largest shadow. He follows after me and collapses as well. We gather our water and measure it out, we’d have a good long hour or two at the current rate. But it may come to rationing or worse… recycling.

Fortunately we weren’t at that stage yet. I have a protein bar left over and he has half a Vegemite sandwich. I ask where he’d gotten the stuff, it’s hardly popular around here. He simply said, “Back home.”.

Fair enough, my only qualm with the conversation was that asking his name didn’t come up organically. There’s definitely a point of no return with that sort of thing, you either get it early on or hope someone says it out loud down the road, but in this case down the road was only gonna be us, for many many miles to come.

I would like to say we escape, that we are rescued, and we are found. That would be a nice end wouldn’t it? But there doesn’t seem to be an end. Another hour gone and no sign of life. The water is half depleted and my mental faculties have long been unreliable. I’ve spotted numerous oasis’ in my time here. Or is it oasi? Oasises? One who oasis’s?

It’s true what they say, the mind plays tricks and oh man is my mind doing a number on me. Honestly, had I known I could feel such a disconnect from reality by being out here, I’d never have felt the need to ‘experiment in college’.

That’s what everyone’s says right? ‘I experimented in college’? It can mean a few different things I guess, wonder if half the stories people tell are even true. Now I know I’ve lost it.

I feel like an abandoned balloon aimlessly floating as my helium seeps out, earths gravity dragging me down closer to its ever-embrace. I’ve become poetic bordering the macabre, but balloons are happy right?

Oh, is that a ravine? I never knew that was there. That could mean water. I hope it’s water. Yes, oh yes I can see it. Wow! It’s an actual river, damn we’ve got to get down there. Old mate as seen it too, it’ll be tricky, we’re gonna have to help each other on this one. Maybe he’ll offer his name…

Half way down and hardly a peep, he’s concentrating I suppose, but he’s motivated, we both are. That is absolutely running water, I can’t believe it, what a find. Oh? And a nice little tricking waterfall to boot, how lovely. And what’s that? There? In the water, a face, a person.

Gazing into the lapping reflection, I see the person looking back. Their long black hair parted across their round, dirt scuffed face. Their tattered coat a half-remembered recreation of what it once was. Their pale cheeks and darkened eyes, a mark of the cursed. How long as it been anyway…

So that’s what’s become of me, I was beginning to forget. I’ve never looked so rugged, never so tired, but at least I’m no longer thirsty. A shadow of my former self I’d say, now that’s just melodramatic, but what else is there to do out here.

Maybe we’ll find the bodies. There was talk, ya know, of others who went missing. I haven’t seen any others as long as I’ve been out here but today just might be the day. Who knows, but our water is restocked at least and we’ve a chance of getting out, so long as we can find Mr. Orange Scarf that is.

There is talk of figures seen at night, figures lurking and stirring, makes no sense to me but I suppose old mate and I will soon find out. Alas, I spoke too soon, could it really be? A glint of orange at the end of the path there? I think it just might be. Old mate has fallen, he’s seen it too, he’s relieved.

“Here! We’re over here!”, I cry, and well enough it seems, he’s spotted us. Oh, and he’s running to us, how gallant.

“Joseph! You’re alive! How long it’s been since you turned up missing! How did you get out on your own?”, pleads Tony.

Joseph! Thank goodness someone finally said it out loud, and to think it would be Tony, rude though, does he not also see be standing right here?

“I was not alone, Tony. We got lost together, and now have returned together.”, blurts Joseph. Now that’s better.

“What do you mean?”, replies Tony.

“Well look behind m… huh? Where did…”, Jospeh begins, but trails off. Oh that’s right, always the same, and so easy to forget. The mind that lingers is a puzzle, and I have lingered for an age. I guess I’m not getting out this time either.

Hello? Joseph? Tony? Can you see me? Nope, it’s gone. I’ll never be released from this dammed place.