jornada
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The sun beat down mercilessly. The heat distorted the air, and the desert sky did not give even a single cloud to offer any relief. The members of the caravan trudged through the sand, sweat pouring off them. Most of their vehicles had run out of gas or broke down days ago, leaving them with nothing but their feet to see them over the endless dunes.
“We should’ve stopped for water.” One of the men said. “Why didn’t we stop for water?”
Another spoke up in a voice made raspy due to lack of hydration. “Boss said we had enough. Said we could last another day to the next oasis. Probably was right before the trucks broke.”
They had been walking the entire day, and there were still hours left to go before nightfall. Many of them were already prepared to have their bodies become food for whatever animals lived in the desert. Others were looking out for any source of water they might see, even just the right kind of cactus.
“Idiot’s killed us all.” A man said, eyeing the caravan leader. “Damn fool didn’t listen, and now we’re all dead.”
“I say we kill him before the desert does.” Another said. The man had his hand on his gun, although he kept it holstered. “Won’t save us, but damn will it feel good.”
Several of the men muttered their agreement. Others gave their dissent. The man was still their employer, for whatever that was worth out there on the sand. Plus, he swore he knew where the next resting place was. A place where they could get as much water as they needed. Of course, he was not telling anyone else. Probably for his own preservation.
“How can he even tell where we’re going?” Another man asked. “He just looks at the sky, then at some of those tools of his. Not a phone, not a compass, not even a damn map. There’s no way he knows where we’re going. And even if he did, it was distant enough that it’d take most of the day in trucks. We’ll never make it on foot.”
The words rang true. They all knew it. The heat, the lack of water. Even the sand itself. Any one of those would spell death, and they dealt with all of them, and more. And still their so-called leader kept them moving towards a destination they all knew was out there somewhere, but did not know where. It divided the men. Half wanted to mutiny right then and there. Others wanted to wait until they reached safe haven, if they could, before slitting his throat.
The leader paused and looked at his various navigation tools, seemingly oblivious to his men’s intentions. And all the while, they muttered and cursed his name. But, for now they needed him. Needed him to make guide them on their endless journey over sand and through blistering heat. The only thing that kept them going was the promise of his blood whetting the ground. And they would see it done, whether the rest of them survived or not.
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Three men are about to cross a desert, and each agrees to bring one thing to help them through. The first man brings a cart loaded with enough food to see them through. The second comes with barrel upon barrel of water. The third though, comes with a car door strapped to his arm.
This man looks at what the other two have brought and scoffed. The other two were confused, both by his choice and how he treated theirs. When asked about it, the third man answered:
"You two aren't thinking. Food? Feh. Water? Bah. Anyone can bring those. But me? I know what's going on. You see, it gets hot in the desert. Really hot. So, if I get too hot, I can just roll down the window."
...
...
I-I'm terribly sorry for that. I'll just be going now.
