Hope and Undead Elvis Read Free Page B

Hope without semblance of mercy or kindness until her ears rang and head pounded with each step. The glare from the bright sand threatened to steal away her vision. At first her eyes had watered from it. Then they'd watered because she was crying. At long last, they stopped watering, because her body wouldn't spare any more of its precious fluids; emotional outpourings were anathema to survival. Every time she blinked, it felt like her eyelids dragged hot sand over her corneas. She wondered how long before she went blind.
    At least if she did, she would no longer have to stare out at the endless waves of unmoving sand.
    "Elvis," she said after a lengthy period of silence.
    "Yes, Li'l lady?"
    "What if this desert never ends?"
    "What if it does?"
    Hope had no answer for that.
    They walked.
    Her shoes shredded after awhile. They had been expensive watersnake-leather Christian Louboutin boots that she'd bought in a Hollywood Boulevard boutique. The four-inch stilettos had made her legs and ass look fantastic, which in turn helped her get her last job. They were impractical for walking on soft sand, and when one of the heels broke off, Hope kicked them off and left them behind to be swallowed up by the hungry desert. Maybe they were the last Christian Louboutins in the world. She didn't care, and didn't look back.
    She'd never felt her feet were all that attractive, even though a guy in Reno had paid her forty bucks to rub them against his chest while he rubbed another portion of his anatomy. Dancing had toughened the skin, but even so, the sharp grains were scratching patterns into her soles. "My feet hurt."
    "I'm sorry to hear that," said Undead Elvis.
    "How long do you think we've been walking?"
    "I dunno, Li'l lady. Maybe a few hours. Hard to say, because the sun ain't moving."
    Hope shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted upward into the cloudless sky. The sun must have moved. It hadn't been in that spot the whole time, had it? "I think you're wrong. There just aren't any landmarks. It's got to be moving." She paused. "Doesn't it?"
    Undead Elvis didn't reply.
    They walked.
    Time passed, but Hope had no way to measure it except her growing weariness. She'd finally accepted that the Sun wasn't moving across the sky anymore. It was like when the world ended, time stopped. "Hey, Elvis. You know that saying about falling trees making no sound if nobody's around to hear them?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "You think time passes if nobody's around to watch it?"
    "I dunno."
    "I'm really thirsty."
    "I'm sorry, Li'l lady. I wish I had something to give you to drink."
    "You're not thirsty?"
    "I'm undead. I'll be all right."
    They walked.
    Hope felt dizzy. Her head reeled with every step as dehydration took its merciless toll upon her body. She wondered if she was the last living creature in the remnants of the world; an epilogue, a coda. When she died, the world might no longer exist at all, because why keep it up if no living eyes could gaze upon it? She would have cried if she had any tears left.
    "I'm dying, Elvis." Her voice had transformed from its pleasant contralto to the croak of an ancient crone. The act of swallowing made her tonsils stick together. "Promise me… promise you won't leave me here in the sand. I want… to be buried… somewhere green."
    "I promise." Even Undead Elvis sounded subdued, as if he too were about to surrender to the elements.
    Hope couldn't walk anymore. Her legs folded and she dropped to the sand with a dull thud. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry."
    "I can carry you," said Undead Elvis. He leaned down and his arms went underneath her. He lifted her up like a father carrying a sleepy child. His skin was cool and dry, and Hope laid her cheek against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and thought about dying.
    The motion of Undead Elvis's body as he trudged through the sand soothed Hope, but she knew if she gave in to unconsciousness, she would never again awaken. Such finality didn't bother her as much as it might