Duat

Dark. Black. Beautiful. I’d never seen stars like this in my life. Well I guess I take that back; I’ve seen plenty of night skies like this in movies, magazines, perhaps even in my dreams. But this was some real-life stuff. The sky was the blackest black I’d ever witnessed, with thousands of bright twinkling stars that only my measly human eye could pick up on. I was laying in the soft harsh sand and I was freezing. But freezing didn’t really matter – I was going to die soon anyways. I squished the sand between my fingers. I guess this was a good way to die. The Sahara Desert would consume me, and I’d always be carried in her belly as a late-night snack. Maybe millions of years from now, an archaeologist would dig me up and frown in disappointment at my fossilized bones. Only human.

What little primal instincts I had left in my frail, cold body was incessantly thinking of water. Water. Water. Water. I imagine this is how an addict would obsess over their addiction. I licked my mouth. My tongue felt like sandpaper against my dry and blistered lips. I could feel my body stiffen and my eyes getting heavy. This was it.

I manage to look around me to take in one final glance of the bountiful sand ocean. The sand looked nearly blue from the light of the sky. Water. I turned my head upward to see the night staring back at me and closed my eyes, letting go.

Then I died.

Dying wasn’t what I thought it would feel like. I assumed I’d feel light and airy, something like the wind. But no – I still felt weighed down by my physical body and my mind was still available. Darkness was my only view and an unnerving silence surrounded me. Water. Obsessive thoughts of water still lingered, which seemed so material and unnecessary in death. Perhaps Hell was real, and I was transitioning to my eternal torture chambers.

“You’re gonna be okay,” a whisper said in the distance. Water.

I tried to follow the mysterious whisper in the darkness.

“Lyla. Lyla. Lyla,” it said gently. Again, I foolishly tried to follow my name in the thick blackness, which had no end in sight.

Perhaps if I tried calling out, “Hello, is anyone there?” My voice seemed to echo for several minutes and in some ways, it didn’t feel like my own.

Suddenly a microscopic white dot appeared in front of me. Darkness surrounded it so much that I couldn’t tell if it was a small hole in the nothingness or if it was something else far, far away. I walked towards it and it grew. I picked up the pace and felt the heaviness of my feet running faster and faster. Water.

“Lyla. Lyla. Lyla!” The voice was more demanding this time. In a quick and sudden swiftness, the white dot overwhelmed the darkness and seemingly ingested me.

Then I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry, but I could see two people hovering over me. They were moving their mouths, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, as a pervasive ring was swarming in my ears. It was near deafening. Until it wasn’t.

“Lyla! There you go. There you are. You’re gonna be okay,” he pat my face a couple times and I could clearly see who it was. Charles, my friend, who was holding me in his arms. A confusing expression was left on his face. Somewhere in the middle of horrified and relieved. It was so deeply etched in his face, that I was convinced he’d wear it forever. Water.

“Water,” I said. Charles nodded and turned around speaking Arabic to the other person. Then the most beautiful water bottle I’ve ever seen appeared in front of my face. It was like I’d finally found the holy grail. I tried to grab the bottle, but my arm was too weak.

Charles then said, “Here, let me”. He twisted the lid off and held my head up, like a mother would a baby. Then the water slowly caressed my lips and into my mouth, down my throat – and it burned. It burned so bad, but at the same time I could instantly feel a rush through my body. I felt like a dry sponge, that when you pour just a little bit of water on it, it expands and swells in that area. Water.

“More,” I said in a demanding tone. Charles gave me a little bit more and said, “That’s enough. We need to get you to a hospital”. Then he turned to the guy behind him and spoke some Arabic. We’d been in Egypt for 2 months and Charles was my personal translator through everything.

The stranger, whom I’d never met, came around to my other side and they both prepared to lift me.

“This might hurt,” Charles said.

I shook my head so slightly that they probably didn’t even notice. Suddenly, they lifted me, and I could feel the pain of every bone and muscle in my body. I screamed out loud and Charles looked at me in pity. The two of them started talking in Arabic, as they slowly carried me to a truck nearby. Then they laid me inside the back seat and closed the door.

The stranger took the driver’s seat and Charles sat in the back seat with me and adjusted my head so that it laid on his lap. During the drive, every so often, Charles would give me a small sip of water, even though my body hungered for the entire bottle.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Near Kharga,” he said.

Then I asked, “What happened?”

Charles looked at me and then out the window, “You don’t remember?”

I shrugged as best as I could. All I knew was that I was sure I had died in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Everything before that was blurry - besides the beautiful night sky.

Charles shook his head and said, “You’re not in a condition to talk about this. Let’s talk later.”

I had more questions, so I whispered, "Who is he?" pointing at the stranger driving the vehicle.

Charles rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed with my questions, "That's Asar. I met him in Kharga and he just wanted to help out."

The car stopped, Asar told Charles something in Arabic, and then got out of the car. Charles looked down at me and caressed my forehead. I thought I’d saw a tear in the corner of his eye but couldn’t tell because it was dark out. I laid there in silence as a green light illuminated, in and around the car. It was flashing on and off.

The door swung open and Charles gently got out. Then in a swoop, two men, whom I’m assuming were nurses or doctors grabbed and pulled me onto a gurney. Again, the excruciating pain rang all throughout my body. I had almost forgotten about it until they moved me.

As they were trekking me into the hospital, I noticed where the green flashing light was coming from - the hospital sign, as if it’s lights were going out. The building itself didn’t look much larger than an elementary school back home and in some places, it was dilapidating. I had a sudden rush of anxiety and felt more alert since being found. I reached out for Charles, as if he were my only hope.

I could tell that Charles knew exactly why I was scared because then he said, “You don’t have a choice. This is the nearest hospital. You need immediate care and I’ll be right here the whole time,” he brushed his hand through his hair. He did that when he was nervous.

Before I knew it, I was in my own room. It was very small, almost like I’d been shoved in a closet. Two people, whom I presumed were nurses were working fast to get my vitals. Charles was standing in the doorway, as there was nearly no room left. One of the nurses grasped my arm and said something in Arabic. I looked at Charles who then said, “They’re gonna put you on a drip”.

Again, anxiety riddled inside me. I was unsure how I felt about being poked and prodded in a foreign country, but at the same time, it was do or die… literally. So, I nodded apprehensively.

After several hours of X-rays, CT scans, blood draws, and medication, the doctor determined that I was severely dehydrated, and my ankle was broken. He told me that if I had been out a couple more hours, I’d sooner meet death and that I was extremely lucky. He wanted to keep me in the hospital for at least another day for observation but expected a full recovery.

I looked down at my cast around my ankle and wiggled my toes. Charles finally sat down next to me and squeezed my hand. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I asked, “What happened, Charles? I’m dying to know.” I chuckled but Charles didn’t.

He sat quiet for a while. Perhaps he was just pondering on the right words to say or bracing me for the information he was about to give.

“We went skydiving… remember?” When he saw my blank stare, he continued, “Yousef took us. We skydived out of El Qasr. Then the desert did what she always did, she was unpredictable…” he trailed off then started again, “It was meant to be a mild wind all day, but when you jumped off, the wind took a sudden turn for the worst and threw you east.”

Then he fell silent, leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees and said quietly, “You were lost for nearly 72 hours, Lyla.”

Bits and pieces came back to me. I of course, remember Yousef. He was Charles friend who had been our tour guide the entire time. I can barely recall skydiving, but I do remember being lost. Lost so deeply in the sea of sand. Hot, sweltering days, and freezing cold nights. I remember feeling the pang of dehydration shortly after being lost and the panic attack I had when I realized I was surrounded by nothing but sand.

I shook my head, “I just can’t believe you guys found me”.

Charles forced a smile, “Yeah. We didn’t stop looking. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if we never found you… seeing you lay there in the sand so still and not being responsive, I thought the worst.” He squeezed my hand again, then sat back in his chair with a sigh of relief.

The next day I was up and walking around and I felt like a new person. The doctor decided to discharge me and told me to drink plenty of water and get rest. “Shukran Jazilaan Lak,” I said. I knew a few words of Arabic and the least I could do was thank them for saving my life.

Charles said a few more words in Arabic to the doctor and we left the room, making our way to the exit doors. I looked up at Charles whose eyes were big, round, and his smile was almost… cynical. His face looked distorted and almost like it wasn’t his. He stopped walking and looked down at me.

Something wasn’t right. “What?” I asked in terror.

He whispered in my ear, “Water”. A deep and sinister laugh came from his mouth.

Suddenly everything around me - the hospital, the busy staff, the lobby room, Charles, all dispersed into sand. Before I could grasp what was happening, there I was again, in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Laying on my back looking at the dark, black, beautiful night sky.

And in the distance, I could hear my name, “Lyla, Lyla, Lyla…”.