Only mad dogs and Englishmen would come out in the midday sun. Yet there he was. Even his shadow had the sense to find shade beneath his boots. Pulling a soiled handkerchief from a pocket Tom wipes his forehead of sweat. Uncorking a water bottle, takes a mouthful. Holding the cool water before swallowing.
An ambling breeze offered little reprieve from the blistering heat that beat down upon the weary soiled young men. The breeze coughs dust into the air and the men watch as it swirls and dances across the desert. A tumbleweed races after it as if not to be left behind. Wiping his forehead again Tom looks about for a likely plot to dig. Taking heavy swig of water. Corks the bottle and shakes it to gauge what was left inside. Not much he figured.
On a map, Tom locates the group's position by landmarks about them. A compass needle quivered nervously, baffled by the magnetic rocks about it. Wondering if the trio had wandered off the grid. He looks back from where they had come, hoping they would still find his vehicle where they had parked it that morning.
A small outcrop of rocks catches his attention.
"Marshall! Over here!" Tom calls out pointing to the pile of rocks in the near distance.
"Coming! ...Travis! Over here." Informs Marshall.
Tom kicks at a rock. Dislodging it to awaken a small tan-colored lizard from its siesta.
Watching the prairie lizard scurry away in search of another sanctuary.
"Sorry..." Apologizing belatedly, "... Rummage inside this lot." He instructs the other two
to investigate the pile of rocks.
Taking a slug of water, gasps for a mouthful of dry air. Marshall lights a cigarette and sends
a plume into the still air.
"How can you smoke in this heat?" Questions Tom watching the smoke gradually disperse
in the breeze.
"What heat?" Responds Marshall taking another drag.
Seeing a vein in the rock, Tom takes a long nose hammer to wedge the rock apart. And gives
it a short sharp strike. 'Crack!'
'Crack!' Striking it again, the rock splits open.
Tome examines it as though it were an autopsy. Searching for remnant fossils and remains
of a time before time.
"Nothing..." He mutters beneath his breath dropping the pieces of rock to the ground,
"...Any luck guys?"
"Nah_, just an old arrowhead... I think?" Travis examines the jagged piece of stone.
Handing it to Marshall for a second opinion.
"Hmm...." Mumbles Marshall taking a water bottle he pours water over the supposed artifact. Washing away dirt holds it up to the sun, "... Navajo, could be Apache. Hard to tell till we get back."
"Keep looking..." Informs Tom, but before he could finish, a gunshot rang out.
'Boom!' A gun shot sounds loudly and the bullet strikes a nearby rock to ricochets harmlessly
away.
"What the...?" Tom crouches instinctively behind a boulder and peers about for the source.
'Click-clunk.' Sounds a cocking Winchester.
Its owner, a young woman stands above them. A leather satchel slung heavy over her
shoulder. A leg of a hare protrudes from the opening. Her sights set down the barrel at Tom who raises the soiled handkerchief in his hand as though to surrender.
YOU ARE READING
Man in the Moon
Science FictionTom stumbles upon a discovery that challenged everything he had ever read about the Roswell crash in Forty-Seven. A satellite that cannot be allowed to go into orbit. Cradling a homing beacon that would signal a fleet of un-welcomed visitors to the...
