Just Deserts (20 page)

I saw a light come over the crest of another hill, another dune, and in that light I saw two figures moving through the sand.

“We see you, Ethan! Just stay there, keep your light on, and we'll come and get you!”

It was dreamlike, watching the two little bubbles of light that contained the two figures as they bobbled toward me and then disappeared behind another rise. I knew I should have been scared, or at least worried, as the light vanished, but I knew it would reappear. And then it did. They were getting closer and closer. They were starting up the hill.

I felt like crying, but I knew I couldn't. I didn't have enough moisture left for tears.

“Are you okay, Ethan?” Larson called out.

I nodded my head, and the light went up and down in response.

“Good. You just keep still and we'll be there!”

I wasn't going anywhere, even if I'd wanted to. I was so tired, so exhausted, so totally spent that I knew I didn't have the power left to rotate. Or even sit. Sitting seemed like too much work, and if I'd tried to lower myself to the ground, I'd probably either have collapsed or not had the strength to get back up again. As long as I was standing, I was alive. Dead people couldn't stand.

The lights started up the final section of the rise, and I turned slightly away as they caught me in their beams. I averted my light to the side so as to not blind them as well. I just stood waiting as they got closer and closer, the lights brighter and brighter until—

“Ethan, I'm so happy to see you,” Larson said. He threw his arms around me, making me stagger backwards, almost knocking me off my feet. And then Andy threw his arms around both of us, stabilizing us all.

“Me too … thanks,” I said softly. “Thanks to both of you for coming … but … but Connor and Kajsa? They're okay … right?”

“They're back at the camp,” Larson said. “They're keeping a big bonfire going, hoping that you'll see it and find your way to us.”

“Can't find anything,” I whispered. “Too tired … need some water.”

“Oh, of course, here, take this!” Andy exclaimed.

He went to hand me a water bottle, but Larson took it from him.

“You can only have a sip first. Just a sip. Do you understand?”

“Understand.”

“I'm going to pour it in your mouth. You need to swill it around in your mouth and then swallow it slowly. Okay?”

I nodded. I opened my mouth and he poured in some water. It splashed into my mouth and onto my face. It felt amazing, and I had to fight the urge to grab the bottle from his hand. Instead I swirled it around, letting it touch every part of my dry mouth, and tried to swallow it. My throat was so tight and dry that I gagged before it went down. It was unbelievable.

“That was … heaven,” I whispered.

“I'm going to give you the bottle now. Just drink it very slowly, okay?”

I nodded and took it. I held the bottle in my hand, looking at it, twirling it ever so slightly, watching as the water rolled around inside.

“Drink it,” Larson said.

“Oh, yeah.”

I'd forgotten, because looking at the water was so
wonderful. I tipped the bottle back and took another small sip. It went down much more easily.

“I have a lot of your stuff,” Andy said.

“What?”

“The things from your pack that you left behind as you were walking. I've been gathering them up as we found them,” he explained.

“That was brilliant,” Larson said. “Marking a trail, like Hansel and Gretel.”

“I just wish … wish I had some gingerbread right now.”

They both laughed and I smiled.

“You were sick,” I said to Andy.

“Still am.”

“He wouldn't stay at the camp,” Larson said. “He practically forced me to take him along.”

“But … but why?”

“Because you were lost. Do you think eating half a goat and crapping it out the other end would stop the Terminator from finding his man?”

“You know about me calling you the Terminator?”

“Of course I do. I don't know if you meant it as a compliment, but that's the way I'm taking it. Good old Arnold is just about my favourite actor in the world. Can't understand why that man hasn't won an Oscar.”

“Maybe because he can't act?” I whispered.

“Are you kidding? How many actors do you know who could play a cyborg?”

He did have a point.

“Do you think you can walk?” Larson asked.

“I can do whatever I need to do,” I answered.

Andy bent down and started bundling up my sleeping bag. He stuffed it into the pack and then put in another armful of things that he'd been carrying as well.

“Thanks for doing that,” I said. “Can you help me get it onto my back?”

“Are you an idiot?” he asked.

“I guess I deserve that. I am an idiot.”

“Goes without saying,” he replied. “Only an idiot would get himself lost out here.”

“But you still came looking for me.”

“You may be an idiot, but you're
our
idiot,” Andy said.

“Come on now, slip one arm over my shoulder and the other around Andy's shoulders,” Larson instructed.

“Why, do you two need my help to keep upright?” I asked.

“Something like that.”

“How far do I have to walk?” I asked.

“Not far. Less than three kilometres,” Larson said.

“But if you can't make it, don't worry. We'll carry you if we have to,” Andy added.

I shook my head. “I can do it.” I paused. “I can do anything now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MY EYES POPPED OPEN
and what I saw was Connor's face staring right down at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“I didn't mean to scare you like that. I was watching you sleep,” he said.

I gave him a confused look.

“I know that sounds really creepy. We've been taking turns watching you sleep to make sure you're okay.”

“I think I'm fine.” I paused. “I just really have to pee.”

“That's wonderful!” he exclaimed. He turned. “He's up and he's got to go to the washroom! He has to pee!” he yelled out the mesh of the tent.

Suddenly the door of the tent was filled with faces as Andy and Kajsa appeared.

“That's great news!” Kajsa said. “Just great!”

“Be sure to let us know what it looks like,” Andy said firmly.

“You'll get a full written report, including quantity and quality,” I said. “I'll provide it in triplicate.”

“You better, or you will face the Terminator.
Hasta la vista
, baby.”

I did a double take. That was an incredible impression. “Oscar quality, for sure.”

Connor undid the tent zipper and I climbed out. I was surprisingly steady on my feet—which were sore, but not screaming out in pain.

“Here, drink this,” Andy said as he handed me a water bottle.

“You don't understand. I'm trying to get rid of liquid.”

“Drink,” he said firmly.

I tipped back the bottle and drank, deep and long. My body was still crying out for liquids to replenish what I'd lost yesterday.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Okay,” he replied and took the bottle back from me.

I went toward the edge of one of the buildings. Our camp was at the site of some ruins, on a rise, and sticking out of the dune were the tops and sides of a dozen stone buildings—thick walls, with openings where once there must have been doors or windows, but with most of the structures still buried beneath the sand.

Larson had told us about these buildings, about this settlement. As best as the historians could tell, they were well over five hundred years old, and at
one time, long before living memory, the desert had simply swallowed them up. Then the relatives of the winds that had buried them in the first place blew away the sand, uncovering them again just a few years ago.

I couldn't help but think about the sands covering me up. Yesterday suddenly became more real again.

I gave a wide berth to the still smouldering embers of the bonfire that Kajsa and Connor had made to light the way back to camp. I could still see it burning in my mind. It was the biggest fire I'd ever seen in my life. If I hadn't been so tired, so exhausted, so nearly out of my head, I would have welcomed just sitting there. All I would have needed were a few marshmallows.

I rounded the corner and, now out of sight, started to pee. It flowed out, dark yellow, but still yellow. It kept coming and coming and coming. If this was a sign that I was rehydrated, then I was rehydrated. I figured I should be. I'd drunk gallons of water before I'd finally drifted off, and then Larson had woken me repeatedly throughout the night and forced me to drink more water than I thought I could hold.

“That looks good.”

I turned slightly at the sound of Larson's voice.

“You know, a week ago I would have called the police if some guy snuck up behind me and told me that my urine looked good.”

“A week ago was a lifetime ago.”

“More bumper sticker sayings?” I asked.

“It sounds like I should get myself a car.”

The flow stopped and I zipped up. “You don't have a car?” I asked in amazement. “Next thing you're going to tell me is that you drive a camel.”

“I have many camels.” He paused. “Not to sound like I'm bragging or anything.”

I laughed. “Camel envy isn't one of my many faults.”

“I don't know about faults, but your kidneys must be made out of steel to have survived so well.”

“My kidneys are good, but I woke up with a splitting headache this morning. I feel the way I used to after staying up drinking all night—like a hangover.”

“That's a dehydration symptom—alcohol causes it, too. We'll just keep giving you lots of water today.”

“Do we have lots of water?” I asked.

“We have as much as you can drink. We're all going to cut down on our intake to make sure you have enough.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Actually we do. I've got to tell you, I'm pretty impressed by what you did.”

“You're impressed with the fact that I got lost in the desert and almost died?”

“I'm impressed you got lost in the desert and
didn't
die. I've known people who've lived their whole lives here who got lost and panicked.”

“I think I was too scared to panic.”

“No, I'm serious. You were so calm.”

“If calm is another word for nearly catatonic, then I was calm. In fact, other than dying, I couldn't have gotten any calmer.”

“Don't sell yourself short. You
should
have been scared, but you still did everything right, including leaving a trail of your belongings for us to follow.”

I thought about claiming that as part of my master plan, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

“You're thinking I was smarter than I was. I was leaving things behind because I was trying to lighten my pack. You're giving me more credit than I deserve.”

“Now I'm even more impressed. You could have left me with the wrong impression, but you didn't. There's a lot more to you than you give yourself credit for. A lot more than your father knows about.”

“Are you planning on telling him that?”

“No need. You'll be showing him yourself as time passes.” He smiled. “But enough about the future. We need to live in the moment. We're all just grateful to have you back.”

“Especially you. I imagine my father wouldn't have paid you if I died.”

“Ethan, your life means more than a few dollars.”

“I'm sure he paid you more than a few dollars.”

“He did, and the money has already been delivered. It's mine whether you live or die, although I have a preference.”

“So do I.”

“You know this has to be about more than money, or it isn't about anything,” he said.

“My father wouldn't agree with that.”

“He's entitled to his opinion … even when he's wrong.”

“I don't think my father would ever admit to being wrong, and I guess, if making money shows you know what you're doing, then he's wrong less than almost anybody on the whole planet.”

“It isn't all about making money.”

“But you certainly were willing to accept money to take me, and the others, on this trek.”

“Money is not intrinsically good or bad. It's what it's used for that
makes
it good or bad,” he said.

“And just what
good and noble
thing are you going to use this money for?” I asked.

“Water.”

“You're going to buy water?” In some ways, after yesterday, that didn't seem like such a strange thing to spend money on.

“Not really buy the water. I get the money to dig wells so that water can come to the surface.”

“Wells … how many wells do you have?”

“Not enough.”

“Cute answer. How many do you have?” I asked again.

“I've been able to raise enough funds to build seven wells.”

“And you need an eighth?”

“An eighth and a ninth and a tenth and an eleventh and … well, you get the idea.”

I could understand the need for a well and water maybe better than anybody in the entire world right now, but why would anyone need to build so many wells … unless …

“You put in that well at the oasis where we stayed the other night, didn't you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“It was something the nomads said to Kajsa.”

“I don't know how much Arabic she knows, but she probably just misunderstood.”

“She doesn't speak any Arabic, but she was managing to communicate pretty well in French, and she got more answers than you're giving me. That well is yours, isn't it?”