Just Deserts (8 page)

“And the bite is really painful,” Andy said.

“Have you been bitten?” I asked.

“Not yet.”

“But he's right, it is very painful. Of course pain is relative. Compared to the bite of a scorpion, it's like being kissed by a butterfly,” Larson said.

“And you've had that happen, too?”

“About a dozen times,” Larson said.

“Wouldn't we be better off if we were led by somebody who didn't keep getting bitten by things?” I asked.

“If you're out here long enough, it's inevitable. With the camel spider it will hurt like hell, but you won't require any treatment. With the scorpion you'll get mighty sick, you'll need medical treatment and you could end up in hospital.”

For a second I thought about the trade-off: getting bitten by a scorpion versus getting brought to a hospital. I wasn't big on pain, but at least it was an option. Besides, that might turn out to be something I could use against my father—a little physical pain for some emotional blackmail.

“How would you get to a hospital from here?” I asked. “Would you go by helicopter?”

“Do you see a helicopter?” Larson asked.

“You could call one,” I suggested.

“Nobody has a phone, and even if we did, there's no cell reception.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Then how would you get there?”

“We'd tie the person onto a donkey or horse or camel.”

“I don't see any of those around, either,” I noted.

“Not here, but close at hand. There's a nomadic Bedouin encampment about ten kilometres away … in that direction,” he said, pointing off into the distance.

“And you would know that because …?” I asked.

Larson pulled on one of his ears. “I can hear them.” He turned his head slightly as though he was listening. “Can't you hear them?”

I started to listen before a smile gave away the fact that he was joking.

“I know there's an oasis that distance in that direction, and they'll be there watering and grazing their herds for the next day or so. They'd lend us an animal if we needed one. But let's just try to avoid that problem if we can.”

“And how do we do that?” I asked.

“The very best thing is to watch where you're walking. Always keep an eye on the ground, especially at night when they're more likely to come up. Try to avoid bushes and rocks where they might be hiding, and make sure your tent zipper is always done up.”

“I can do that,” I said quietly.

“Of course those are the same pieces of advice that will keep you safe from the vipers,” he said.

“Vipers … as in snakes?” I really didn't like snakes. They gave me the creeps. “Are they very big?”

He shook his head. “Small, no longer than this,” he said, spreading his hands about two feet.

That thought made me feel a little better, although I certainly didn't want to be startled by one.

“And if you're bitten by a viper, it's not nearly as much fuss,” Larson said.

“So they're not poisonous,” I said.

“Oh, no, they're
deadly
poisonous. A bite would probably kill you within an hour or so.”

“But … but … how is that not as much fuss?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well, if a scorpion bites you, we have to find a way to get you to a hospital, and that's a lot of work. If a viper bites you, we just lay you down and either the winds bury you or the jackals eat you. Either way, that's not much fuss.”

Connor and Andy started laughing. Simple minds amused by simple things. I wondered just how loud they'd be laughing if one of them was stung or bitten.

Just then a light appeared over the top of the dune and Kajsa reappeared. Apparently she had survived. She slid down the dune and rejoined our little group.

All this talk about going to the washroom hadn't made my situation any better. What made it easier was that Kajsa had just blazed a trail for me. I'd just follow her tracks and be pretty sure that nothing bad was in my path.

“I'm going to try that bathroom thing,” I said as I got up and turned on my headlamp.

“You know about urine, right?” Larson asked.

“Ah … I think I'm familiar with the concept … I've been peeing for a long time now.”

“Again, I'm impressed, but you need to monitor your urine for quality and quantity,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Was I out here in the desert with some sort of pervert?

“It's essential that you're aware of your urine. Andy, could you please explain it to him?”

Andy nodded his head formally. I think he was fighting the urge to salute.

“The greatest danger to a desert traveller is dehydration,” he began. “You need to consume sufficient water, and the best indicator of your level of hydration is demonstrated through your urination. One of the primary indications of dehydration is that the kidneys shut down and you are unable to void.”

“Void?”

“To pass urine.”

“Then we have no fear of me being dehydrated, because I have to pee like a racehorse, so if you'll excuse me I'll just—”

“That's only the most severe reaction,” Andy added. “You need to be aware of the colour of your urine. Good urine needs to be a light-yellow colour. If it gets too yellow, or thick, you could be facing problems.”

“Believe me, if my urine gets
thick,
I'll let you know. Can I go now before I wet my pants?”

“Good luck,” Andy said.

I almost said something about how I was going to take a pee, not go off to war, but I didn't think he'd find the humour in that. Frankly, I wasn't sure he'd find the humour in anything.

I started off. I tried my best to move slowly, casually, completely aware that while there were
only four sets of eyes within miles, they were all upon me.

I tilted my head slightly down to light a path a few feet ahead of me—a path marked by two sets of footprints, one out and one back. Kajsa's steps wove a winding route around rocks and bushes—a route I assumed was safe, or at least safer than anything I could have come up with on my own. I started up the dune, the sand cascading down almost as fast as I was moving up. Reaching the top, I stopped, out of breath, and turned and looked back.

The little fire and the four figures surrounding it were the only things I could see. In this big unknown world, they were the only things I knew at all, and I felt a reluctance to go down the far side of the dune and lose sight of them. I had the irrational thought that the moment I disappeared they would quickly gather themselves up and vanish, leaving me alone again. Technically I guess I could have just turned off my light, become invisible in the dark, and gone right there … but really, I did want a little privacy. Even if they couldn't see me, I didn't want to see them while I was relieving myself.

I skidded down the far side, taking a few steps, the flow of the sand and gravity making it much easier than the climb. I looked back over my shoulder and felt a growing sense of uneasiness. I knew they were just over the ridge, a few seconds, a scream away, but
I was once again alone. And this time I was in the dark with
spiders and scorpions and vipers … oh my!

I chuckled to myself. Although I certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore, this didn't look like Oz, either. I couldn't recall Dorothy or Toto ever relieving themselves on the yellow brick road, but I certainly had to go. I undid my pants and quickly released a stream of liquid that drilled a little hole before vanishing into the sand. I just hoped I wasn't going to disappear the same way.

It kept flowing and I caught the stream in the light of my headlamp. It was definitely yellow, but was it too yellow? I'd never really contemplated the colour of my urine before. That was probably a good thing, a
normal
thing. What type of person would be aware of the colour of their pee? What sort of person knew if it was too yellow?

What I did know was that if quantity was good, I was potentially the Olympic champion of taking a whiz because it just kept on coming. That wasn't a surprise. I couldn't even remember when I'd drunk so much water in a day. I'd assumed that most of it had come back out as sweat, but apparently not.

When I finally finished, it was time to get back to safety. I started back to the top of the dune, carefully retracing my and Kajsa's tracks.

Just as I was about to reach the top, I had the urge to turn off my headlamp and become invisible—
maybe more than one person could magically appear out of the darkness. I reached up and then stopped myself—
spiders and scorpions and vipers
.

I stumbled over and began the descent toward the fire. My feet sank in and I slid as much as walked to the bottom. I took a spot beside the others on the mats.

“Well?” Larson asked.

“Mission accomplished,” I said, giving him a big thumbs-up. “It wasn't that tricky. I wouldn't compare it to climbing Mount Everest.”

“That reminds me,” Connor said. “Larson, you promised us you'd tell us about the time you climbed Mount Everest.”

“You climbed Mount Everest?” I asked him.

“Only once,” he said. “And it's not that difficult.”

“Not difficult?” Connor said. “You're joking, right?”

Larson shook his head. “At last count, close to three thousand people have done it, including a thirteen-year-old boy and a man who was legally blind. It might be the highest peak, but it isn't the most difficult.”

“What mountain do you think
is
difficult?” Kajsa asked.

“Nothing seems very difficult once it's done, but if I had to choose, it would definitely be Vinson Massif.”

“I've never even heard of that one,” I said.

“Not surprising. It hasn't been climbed by many people because it's so remote,” he said.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“Antarctica. That's what makes it so difficult. The weather conditions are very severe. It was the hardest of the seven summits.”

“You climbed it seven times?”

He laughed. “I don't think anybody has done that. The seven summits are the highest mountains on each continent.”

“And you've climbed them all?” I gasped.

He nodded. “But you have to remember that it's more a testament to my stamina and stubbornness than anything else.”

“I'd never do that. I'm afraid of heights,” Connor said.

“Me too,” Larson said. “That's why I decided to climb the mountains, to help me overcome my fear.”

“Wouldn't it have been easier to
not
climb them, instead?” I asked.

“Easier, yes. Better, no. You have to confront your fears if you hope to overcome them.”

The other three nodded in admiration and agreement. I shook my head the other way. That was perhaps the stupidest thing I'd heard in a long time.

“I've never known anybody who's climbed the seven summits,” Kajsa said.

“Again, not that unusual these days. I think there
are close to three hundred people who have done it.”

“Yeah, but that's three hundred out of a world population of almost seven billion,” Connor pointed out.

“So will you tell us about climbing Mount Everest or the Antarctic mountain?” Kajsa asked.

“Definitely, I'll tell you all, but not tonight. It's late and you all need some sleep.”

“Can you at least answer one question first?” Connor asked. “I just wanted to know if you used oxygen when you climbed Everest.”

“Yes,” he said. “Some people think it's cheating, but I figure the only thing you're cheating is death. Now, time for bed. Where is Ethan going to bunk down for the night?”

“He's in with me,” Connor said.

“I have to share a tent?” I blurted out.

“There are only two two-person tents,” Larson said.

“But there are five of us,” I said.

“I always sleep outside,” Larson said. “You're welcome to do that if you want.”

I knew it was already getting colder, but I'd be in a sleeping bag, and it wasn't like the canvas was going to help keep it any warmer. Besides, I wasn't worried about rain in the middle of the desert. Maybe sleeping outside wouldn't be the worst thing.

“I just need you to do up the sleeping bag very, very tightly,” Larson continued.

I gave him a questioning look.

“When the temperature drops at night, cold-blooded creatures, like scorpions and vipers, look for warm places to sleep … like the bottom of your sleeping bag. The worst thing is knowing that there's a viper in the bottom of your bag, somewhere close to your feet, and that you have to just lie there, motionless, and wait until the sun comes up. Then the temperature rises enough that it
needs
to come out,” Larson said. “It would be pretty eerie to have it slowly move up your body until it came out the top, right by your face, and scurried away.”

I felt a shudder go through my entire body that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature.

“It would be quite the test of one's will—overcoming your fear and mastering your emotions,” Larson said. “So are you going to sleep outside tonight?”

“Just show me which tent is mine,” I answered.

CHAPTER TEN

I STARTED FOR THE TENT
and then did a quick turn-around and grabbed my pack. Everything I'd need for the night was in there. I picked it up—it felt very heavy now—and followed the bobbing path of my headlamp back to the tent. I dropped the pack to the ground and then bent over and undid the zipper. I climbed inside and dragged the pack—and some sand—inside the tent with me.

I was startled to see that the tent wasn't really a tent, but
half
a tent. There was a wall, the bottom half canvas and the top half mesh, that divided the little tent into two smaller mini-tents. I sort of liked that idea. It wasn't exactly a private room—actually, it wasn't a room at all, and it wasn't really private—but still, it felt good to have the illusion of privacy. I did up the outside zipper to seal me in and other things out. I didn't want to think about what could be crawling or slithering around out there. It was enough to know that with the zipper done up, they couldn't get in. I checked the zipper again, aiming my
light and running my fingers along the seam, making sure it was perfectly, completely closed.