Full Circle

One eye half opened, head turned upward, he peeked at her yet again. Still there? Of course. But he'd known that before he'd peeked. She yet burned in the sky. Unfailingly bright. Unrelentingly hot. She cooked and caressed him in equal measure. A giggle escaped his lips.  He closed the eye and kept moving.

Concentrate on the count. Yes, the count. Forty-nine steps with eyes closed.  On the fiftieth check your progress. Peek.  Still walking a straight line?  Good.  Sun still there?  Bad. Nothing to be done but continue to walk. Forty-nine steps...peek at fifty.  Don't lose the count. That was his mantra.  That would see him through this.  Superstitious?  Well...not until today.  Today the superstition of maintaining the count and surviving occupied his entire being.

The trek had begun with both eyes wide open.  But as the hours passed and the sun had her way with him, it crept into his thoughts to maintain as much moisture in his body as he could.  Hence the closed eyes which grew into the mantra.

The drag of the sand slowed his progress of course, but surely he could manage the eight to ten miles he estimated would bring him to safety.  Hadn't he walked miles on beaches with the sand swallowing his feet and the tide sucking greedily at every step? Aah...the beach.  There was a sweet memory.  Sun, sand...water.  He quickly turned his mind back to the count.   Best not to think of water. Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty...peek. Giggle.  Proceed.

At the next fiftieth he checked his progress, the traitorous sun, and his watch. 3:25 pm.  Oh God.  Had he really been out here less than three hours.  It felt like days.  The brutality of the sun warped time.  The watch didn't help.  He removed the treacherous timepiece from his wrist and hurled it into the waste.

Half a bottle of water remained from what he'd started with.  His lips were chapped severely...it was painful to drink...but oh yes, he did drink.  Three restrained sips when his soul cried for him to upend the bottle over his face.  But no...he would not.  Three sips and he returned it to the pack.  The mantra continued in his head and he continued through the unforgiving landscape.

He missed the watch.  Stupid impulse to toss it.  He stumbled and caught himself.  Coordination is still good.  Another slight stumble. Then a prolonged giggle.  Oh Jesus.

A peek.  No giggle.  The water was gone.  When did I drink that?  Can't remember.  What caused his previous giggles he couldn't remember.  Certainly nothing funny now.  Maybe never again.

Total elapsed time since he'd walked away from the plane?  Oh God...where's my watch?  Three hours now?  Four?  A plane...supposedly carrying a load of contraband and a full tank of fuel.  Sadly it had contained neither.  He'd landed it without incident approximately three-fourths of the way to his destination.  A blessing or a curse?  A quick hot death if he'd crashed.  A long hot death in the wasteland if he landed safely?  Yeah...definitely a curse...forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.  Peek.

Time meant nothing, The mantra consumed him. Had he missed a count?  Couldn't recall.   No of course not.  I'm still alive...forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. Peek. More than a peek. Eyes wide open.  The  quality of the light had changed.   The hellish mistress in the sky appeared to be retiring for the evening.

Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.  Eyes opened in a perpetual squint.  Nothing for it...he had to watch the horizon.  Could not afford to miss his destination.  He walked, he counted, the sun retreated faster than he would have thought possible.    At turns he cursed her and praised her, hoping one or the other would speed her descent.  As she touched the horizon her last light glanced off an object.  Not close but not far.  Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.  His steps quickened.

In the days last light he reached out and laid a sunburned hand on the wing of his plane.  He stepped back.  Three steps.  He considered how far he'd come and whether he could possibly go further.

By God...I've come full circle.  The hint of a smile touched his lips...then spread.  This time the giggling continued for a very long time.

☀️

©️ Tracy M. Gray

4-5 December 2017

Inspired by the one-shot "Shade" by Kimiko C. Gray