HOW FAR CAN A PIÑATA RUN INTO THE DESERT?

6. OH, I KNOW HE'S HERE. HIS CAR'S PARKED IN THE DRIVEWAY.

I.

You're lying in the desert holding onto nothing but the magazine. It's hot and you're roasting like a turkey as your face burns in the intense afternoon sun and you feel like you're about to pass out. A flock of black birds circles above you, sqawking and hollering, but then you suddenly hear a different noise. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a long, 18-wheeled truck roar past on the desert highway. You want to get up and signal to it, but you're unable to move. Your eyes close.

You suddenly open your eyes a sliver to see Mr. E standing over you, his head blocking the sun. He helps you up and you see he's bleeding from the side of his face. You are beyond surprised to see him, in a way that words cannot describe. You're not in the right condition to express anything right now, anyway. Mr. E looks at his watch as you stand by the side of the desert road. "He'll be here soon," he says.

"Who?" you ask, but you can tell Mr. E isn't really in any position to say much. His face is bleeding a lot and he looks like he needs medical assistance. He begins to slump to the ground, but you help him up.

A while later, a car approaches in a cloud of desert dust. It's a black towncar that pulls up and out steps a big, older man with white hair you've never seen before.

He sees Mr. E's situation and tells you to help him into the car. You and the older man carry Mr. E into the car and lay him down onto the back seat. You get into the passenger side as the man with the white hair gets in the driver's seat and takes off in the direction of the city.

You sit with your head leaned against the window as you hover between conscious and unconscious for what feels like hours. Day becomes night as you head towards the city and as you arrive at one of the drive-through mini convenience store toll booths, you open your dehydrated eyes to see that the traffic going out of the city is jam-packed. It seems like thousands of people are rushing to get out and nothing is moving.

The driver asks the operator for some water and some medical supplies. The operator hands him two bottles of water, a tube of aloe vera and some bandages and the black town car drives through the barrier.

"Drink. And put that on your skin," the driver says, handing you the bottles and the green tube. You attack the water desperately, pouring it down your throat and getting it all over your sandy clothes. Out of the window, you see the city approaching as you head down the night-time highway and the driver carries on driving with his eyes fixed forward.

***

A while later, you wake up to see you're in the suburbs again. The older man with white hair is still driving silently, so you ask him who he is. He doesn't respond. You look behind you to check on Mr. E in the back seat. He's still unconscious.

"He got shot," you say.

The driver looks at you this time. "I know that. You think I don't know? Just keep your head down and your mouth closed until this is all over."

A bit rude, you think. You note that he has a Scottish accent and you wonder what he means by "until this is all over". Will it all be over soon? You rub the aloe vera on your dry, sunburnt skin and think about the last few days. The silent driver takes you through the same suburban neighbourhood you were in before and makes a turn onto Mapleton Avenue. He parks in the driveway and hands you an envelope.

"There's a key inside. Go and open the front door."

You open the envelope and take out a key. You go to the front door, unlock it and then rush back to help the driver with carrying Mr. E into the house. You each take a shoulder and help Mr. E, who can barely walk, into the empty living room.