my body lay in the sand, white and gaunt and all bones, like a bleached skeleton of some prehistoric animal. i was dry and desiccated. my stomach was shrunk to nothing, and my tongue so swollen from heat and thirst that i could barely breathe, much less drink. not that there was anything to drink in the desert.
how did i end up here?, i asked myself. i used the last of my energy to turn around and look at my footsteps. they trailed off west, as far as my cracked and sun-blinded eyes could see. no sign of the City. no blue lakes and tall white buildings. no gleam from adamantine roads or piercing towers. nothing but sand and heat.
it’s too late anyway, i thought. if i can’t go five feet forward, it makes no difference if the City is ten feet behind or a million. i’m done here.
why did i leave? i knew there was nothing but desert out here. what was i going to do? walk across it? to where? and now my foolishness mocks me. i’m going to die here.
and then–the sound of silver. not the metal; the color. with an odd feeling of recognition i look up, and remember no more except going blind.
—
thirst. my only thought is for water. i don’t even realize that i’m alive, but i thirst. i open my eyes, but everything is fuzzy. i grope around, hoping to find some vessel of liquid.
“patience. you just died. or close enough. your body is so dehydrated you can’t have anything to drink yet. i’m giving you the appropriate fluids as you have need. rest, and soon you will be able to drink. and be thankful that you are alive”
then i slept.
—
i don’t know why i left. i don’t know where i thought i was going. to some imaginary better place, maybe, beyond the dunes. no one ever finds anything there but death. but i know who rescued me from it, and it is good to see him again. it’s been far too long.
soon now i will be able to eat, to get up and walk around. what a sweet thought! there is no lack of water, here, either, to run strength through my body. and, as soon as i am able, i’m anxious to get back to the City. there are people there that i have missed, and they will be glad to know that i’m alive. i’m alive, and i hate the desert for its death.
i don’t ever want to go out there again.
