Slight Detours | Wattys 2015

(14) ALLY

There are certain occasions when profanity becomes an inescapable reflex, much so, that it may even render useless someone equipped with the barrier of a trained filter. Now, for instance, would be a perfect example.

“Holy shit!” I scream as Jared pulls off the third and final cactus needle imbedded in the nape of my neck. In an attempt to calm my erratic breathing, I pinch my thumb and index finger together in brisk meditation.

“Did it leave a mark?” I ask him, rubbing the back of my neck soothingly.

“It left a huge mark,” he snorts, “heart-shaped and about the size of a water buffalo’s ass.”

“Ugh. Go die in a shithole.” I hopelessly try to claw my way out of the narrow pit we’d fallen into, failing miserably.

“Sorry to break it to you, but this is a shithole,” he announces.

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!” I scream at Jared who looks to be lounging comfortably on a slab of sand stone. Beyond annoyed by his ways, I pick up the nearest rock I can find then hurl it at him with all I’ve got. I watch as the rock flies soundlessly, almost like it’s in slow motion up until it makes contact with the ground in a merciless plop.

To my dismay, the rock doesn’t go anywhere near Jared; it doesn’t even graze him.

“Nice try,” he mocks.

I pace around the rocky area, which eventually turns into frustrated stomping. It was all Jared’s fault, you see. This situation right here was none of my doing. The sign we’d come across a hundred or so paces ago had read “Straight Ahead: Boneyard Bill’s Mechanic Shop” in bold red. I repeat, in bold red.

To any person out there, the message couldn’t have been any clearer. To Jared, on the other hand, it meant diverting from the said direction as much as humanly possible. I mean, he’d literally gone off the trail three steps into the weedy expanse of desert, claiming he’d seen someone behind a cactus.

Now, that was just purely insane.

When I’d managed to bring him back over to the marked trail, we’d gone another ten feet’s distance before he’d broken away once again, paranoid about someone following us. Apparently, this someone was the same person that’d been hiding behind the cactus.

A couple missteps and forceful tugs later and we ended up stuck in this gaping hole right in the middle of the Nevada desert. So, yeah, I was definitely overjoyed.

Not.

About an hour had passed since Marvin and Tully went off to get some help. It was nearly four P.M. then so, logically, it would be more or less five in the afternoon by now as the sun begins to set, peppering the sky in redish hues and evening light.

I let the humid air surround me for a second, spreading my arms out but quickly drop back to the floor.

“It’s getting dark out,” I sigh, curling up into a ball while resting my head against the packed wall behind me.

Jared chuckles. “No thanks to you, Captain Obvious,” he mutters sarcastically, picking himself up and plopping down right next to me. At first, I’m taken aback by his gesture. It’s unlike of him to be nice during situations like these. He tilts his head invitingly and I lean into him, resting my head in the crook of his neck.

“Why don’t we play a game?”

“Depends on what kind of game.”

“Twenty questions,” he whispers in my ear, “If you’re up for it.”