Broken

Dry

When you awake with nothing in sight other than miles upon miles of red sand, you're probably going to die. My wrists ached as my crucifix creaked. The creak brought me the thought that my crucifix could be broken. I began shifting my weight back and forth, the more i pushed the more it hurt. I kept on pushing. I was not going to die tied to a post in cannibal territory. I gave one final push and my crucifix fell. I was still stuck, but on the ground. I began lifting my arms: my wrists spewed blood as the nails that tied me loosened. I screeched as my wrists pulled free from the post, allowing me to sit up. My feet were still stuck.

I felt a hunger pang set in as I looked around, thousands upon thousands of crucifixes surrounded me: some of the corpses missing limbs, others with still-alive victims being fattened up for a roast. The thought hit me again, I was not going to die here. I used my freshly freed hands to pull the spikes from my ankles. As I used my arms to pull, blood poured out of my wrists. I continued. "I will not die here" I said to myself once again. I ripped the stake out of my post and freed my left foot. I firmly grasped the final nail with both hands. I pulled as hard as my starving, sun-stroked body would allow. My hands burnt while touching the sun-heated steel. No matter how hard I pulled I could not get the stake out. I fell to my back, the hunger intensified, my migraine felt like a bullet. "I will not die here" I said to myself once again. I pulled my self back up with the small amount of strength I had left.

 I gripped the nail with both hands, once again. I situated my thumbs on top of the spike and pulled as hard as I could. It felt like my whole sun burnt body was on fire. The stake ripped free of my wooden death bed. I dropped it into the sand as I used my newly freed limbs to stand up. The sand burnt like the hot sun in the sky. "I am not going to die here" got into my head, once again. The endless sand seemed like a prison. I was not going to escape. Nevertheless, I began walking. Telling by the heat of the sand and the sun in the sky, I could tell which direction to go. My best chance was to go south. My desert prison was on the north eastern corner of the island. It stretched far, further than my dehydrated body could travel. Even though my cannibal captor's camp could be seen to the south, that was my best bet. For they almost positively had water. The skin on my sun burnt feet was burning on the hot sand, but I was going to live. 

The time felt still, even though I was walking it felt like no progress was being made. By the time I had finally reached the cannibal camp, I was so dehydrated that my body had ceased sweating, out of lack of water. The shade of the makeshift structures was so soothing, this was my first time out of the sun in days. I searched for any drop of water, I couldn't survive much longer without it. After searching through shelves, I swung my body around and looked to the other structures of the cannibal village. Noticing a water tower, my eyes widened as I ran towards it. My skinny legs ached, I had little nourishment. My captors had kept me starved to prevent my escape. The knew not of my dedication, I had survived the peaks of the Western Rockies with snow falling constantly on my back, walked through the Southern Marshes for days with no food other than small swamp algae.

I grasped the tap and twisted it with my little remaining strength. I perched my mouth below the spout as water cascaded into my mouth. I drank that tap for over a minute, not struggling to keep up with the flow once. Even though the water tasted bad, it was still the best water I ever had. I lifted my head back up, I felt a sudden replenishment of all my strength. I had never been so rejuvenated. I still needed gear. I had been stripped down to nothing but rags. I'm sure my gear was around somewhere. I pivoted in my spot looking for my gear. I looked upon a shelf and spotted my duster. The glorious faded black long-coat I had worn through all my bounty hunting years. That thing had more fraying and stains than I could count. But that coat had kept me alive through the cold, hot and all between. I pulled it over my shoulders and stretched my arms. I was back in business.