about, and maybe he knew.
We soon passed out of the small settlement. The shacks and rubbish-strewn streets ended abruptly, as did any sign of cultivation. What few sad fruit trees and root crops I had seen had no place past the town’s outer boundary; now, there was only the wilds. The road suddenly seemed to smooth out and calm down, as if pleased to be leaving civilization behind, and before us lay the desert.
I had been aware of its presence for some minutes. It could be seen beyond the town, hunched down, spread as far as the eye could see. Its smell permeated the air; hot and dry, barren and cruel. I could even feel its weight, its distance, its vastness affecting my emotional tides like the sky at night, or the sea on a stormy day. But now for the first time I really
noticed
it. I saw its beauty and danger, its mystery and shapely curves. And I perceived the sharp edges that waited for those unacquainted with its harsh truth.
Now that the road had levelled to merely uncomfortable—and Scott had dropped his speed as if mourning the potholes left behind—I had a chance to talk.
“Scott, you have me confused.”
“It’ll all become clear,” he said. “Or… clearer. More obvious.” He shook his head, trying to rattle loose whatever he was trying to say. “Just wait and let me show you, Pete.”
I nodded, tried to return his smile, but the sun must have stretched my skin. I uncapped the lid of my sunblock and coated my face and arms once more, taking off my cap and rubbing it into my scalp. It grated and scratched. Glancing at the mess on my hand, I saw that a thousand grains of sand had become mixed in, turning the cream into an effective exfoliant.
“Ha!” Scott laughed. “Just like being at the beach. You get used to the sand eventually, just like you get used to being thirsty, sweaty, tired. You can get used to anything, really. Remember going to the beach as a kid? That time when our families went together, you wanted to go canoeing, but I dragged you over to explore the rock pools and caves?”
“You got me into so much trouble.”
“I was a kid, what was I supposed to know about tides?” He laughed again, wild, uninhibited, untempered by normal worries like mortgages and jobs and love. I loved him and hated him, and for the thousandth time I wondered how that could be.
“We could have died.”
“We should have gone farther into the caves. But you were scared.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t know what was there. We could have died.”
“You never find out unless you look.” If I didn’t know him better, I may have imagined mockery in his smile.
“You said you’d found a city,” I said. “A city of ghosts?” He glanced across at me, handed over a bottle of water, looked ahead again.
The road had effectively ended as we left town, cross-country evidently being a more comfortable ride. This desert was not as I had always imagined it to be—the high, sharp-ridged dunes of
Lawrence of Arabia
—but rather flat, hard-packed, supporting sparse oases of vegetation that seemed to sprout from the bases of rocky mounds or in shallows in the ground. Leaves were dark green and thin, their ends sharp, threatening and unwelcoming. If these plants did flower, now was not their season. The sun was high, the heat intense, and mirage lakes danced across the horizon. Ghost water, I thought, and the idea made Scott’s silence even more frustrating.
“What city could be hidden out here?” I asked. “It’s the desert, but it’s hardly wilderness.”
“Hardly?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “What’s wilderness?”
“Well… the wilds. Somewhere away from civilization.”
Scott lifted a hand from the wheel and swept it ahead of him, as if offering me everything I could see. “This is as wild as it gets,” he said. “Civilization? Where? Out here there are scorpions and snakes and spiders and flies, and other things to do you mischief. It’s easy to die in the
We soon passed out of the small settlement. The shacks and rubbish-strewn streets ended abruptly, as did any sign of cultivation. What few sad fruit trees and root crops I had seen had no place past the town’s outer boundary; now, there was only the wilds. The road suddenly seemed to smooth out and calm down, as if pleased to be leaving civilization behind, and before us lay the desert.
I had been aware of its presence for some minutes. It could be seen beyond the town, hunched down, spread as far as the eye could see. Its smell permeated the air; hot and dry, barren and cruel. I could even feel its weight, its distance, its vastness affecting my emotional tides like the sky at night, or the sea on a stormy day. But now for the first time I really
noticed
it. I saw its beauty and danger, its mystery and shapely curves. And I perceived the sharp edges that waited for those unacquainted with its harsh truth.
Now that the road had levelled to merely uncomfortable—and Scott had dropped his speed as if mourning the potholes left behind—I had a chance to talk.
“Scott, you have me confused.”
“It’ll all become clear,” he said. “Or… clearer. More obvious.” He shook his head, trying to rattle loose whatever he was trying to say. “Just wait and let me show you, Pete.”
I nodded, tried to return his smile, but the sun must have stretched my skin. I uncapped the lid of my sunblock and coated my face and arms once more, taking off my cap and rubbing it into my scalp. It grated and scratched. Glancing at the mess on my hand, I saw that a thousand grains of sand had become mixed in, turning the cream into an effective exfoliant.
“Ha!” Scott laughed. “Just like being at the beach. You get used to the sand eventually, just like you get used to being thirsty, sweaty, tired. You can get used to anything, really. Remember going to the beach as a kid? That time when our families went together, you wanted to go canoeing, but I dragged you over to explore the rock pools and caves?”
“You got me into so much trouble.”
“I was a kid, what was I supposed to know about tides?” He laughed again, wild, uninhibited, untempered by normal worries like mortgages and jobs and love. I loved him and hated him, and for the thousandth time I wondered how that could be.
“We could have died.”
“We should have gone farther into the caves. But you were scared.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t know what was there. We could have died.”
“You never find out unless you look.” If I didn’t know him better, I may have imagined mockery in his smile.
“You said you’d found a city,” I said. “A city of ghosts?” He glanced across at me, handed over a bottle of water, looked ahead again.
The road had effectively ended as we left town, cross-country evidently being a more comfortable ride. This desert was not as I had always imagined it to be—the high, sharp-ridged dunes of
Lawrence of Arabia
—but rather flat, hard-packed, supporting sparse oases of vegetation that seemed to sprout from the bases of rocky mounds or in shallows in the ground. Leaves were dark green and thin, their ends sharp, threatening and unwelcoming. If these plants did flower, now was not their season. The sun was high, the heat intense, and mirage lakes danced across the horizon. Ghost water, I thought, and the idea made Scott’s silence even more frustrating.
“What city could be hidden out here?” I asked. “It’s the desert, but it’s hardly wilderness.”
“Hardly?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “What’s wilderness?”
“Well… the wilds. Somewhere away from civilization.”
Scott lifted a hand from the wheel and swept it ahead of him, as if offering me everything I could see. “This is as wild as it gets,” he said. “Civilization? Where? Out here there are scorpions and snakes and spiders and flies, and other things to do you mischief. It’s easy to die in the
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