The Sands of Borrowed Time (19 page)

Consumed

Callee found it a struggle to stand, let alone walk through the dust ladened hurricane. 

I feel so weak.  I don’t know how much longer I can last,
she thought as Laren held her one arm and Jeff the other, all three bracing each other, struggling onwards, the sand blasting hard across their faces, the dry air screaming around them like a frenzied spirit. 
So thirsty, so tired,
she thought as she stumbled forward with her eyes closed, her muscles aching. 
I feel awful, this dizziness, this blinding headache; the pain is spreading throughout my whole body,
she continued in anguish.  She wanted to tell the others to stop and rest awhile, but there was no hope either way. 

“Dammed if you do, and damned if you don’t,” she slurred under the sound of the whistling wind.  She staggered forward, fell to her knees and got dragged back up with the aid of Jeff and Callee, all three trying desperately to keep going.  The day got darker as the storm got stronger.  “Can’t breathe,” Callee gasped, not hearing herself above the swirling wind.  Laren looked across at her, only seeing despair in her face. 

See looks like a living ghost,
Laren thought.  Callee felt the same looking at Laren, her usual jolly face was inanimate, dead.  What had brought them to this;
a star?
  Laren asked.  “A star exploding into the galaxy, spreading stardust which is meant to create life?  In order to create, you must first destroy,” Laren continued out loud, no one hearing.  She had heard that phrase somewhere.  It had resonated with her, and now she could see it working its peculiar magic. 
Wipe the slate clean, squish all the slugs and start again,
she continued to ponder,
brutal, indiscriminate, but necessary
. 
But why take down the good guys also?
 
Why take so long to create something good, then destroy it on a whim?  It just doesn’t make sense.  It doesn't seem natural for God’s sake! 
Callee could feel Laren’s grip weaken, Jeff trying to urge them both on, setting the pace a footstep ahead, pulling at Callee’s arm. 

“We have to keep moving?” Jeff shouted, shunting them forward.  “We have to try!”  Callee closed her eyes, the lashings of dust across her face turning her skin numb; the colours, the patterns dancing before her eyelids getting intense.  The noise of the howling wind felt distant as her mind struggled to focus on the grim reality surrounding them.

“We have to keep going!” Jeff shouted again.  “Let’s keep moving!”

“I have to rest,” Callee demanded anxiously as she fell to her knees, watching Jeff’s stricken face.  “Just for a few minutes.  I just need a few minutes,” she continued, looking pleadingly into Jeff’s eyes. 

“Of course, of course you can, Callee,” Laren said.  “We all need to rest for a bit,” Laren continued as she knelt down next to her, lifting up her face in the palm of her hands. 

“Don’t give up on us,” Laren cried, tapping Callee’s face gently. 

“Go, go on ahead, I’ll catch you up,” Callee replied with unfocused eyes. 

“No!  No!  Just rest a bit!  You’ll get your strength back.” Lauren replied crying, hugging her, not wanting to let her go.  “You’ll feel better in a minute.”  Jeff looked down at them both kneeling in the sand, feeling helpless.  What could he do? 

Callee looked up at Jeff, tears rolling down her cheeks, her voice pleading with him, “You have to go, Jeff, while you still have a chance.” She ushered him onwards.  “Go…please go while you still have strength left,” her voice sounding dry and tired, the colour in her eyes and skin draining away. “You deserve a chance,” she finally said before closing her eyes, the tension in her face dissipating until she looked like a pale, sleeping doll, held up by Laren’s shaking arms.

             
She’s a ghost,
Jeff thought in his tired, delirious state. 
They’re both ghosts. 
He began to panic, turning from the girls, running, stumbling through the sand.  He fell, looking over his shoulder as he got back to his knees.  There was no-one, the girls had gone, just the dark, sandy air swirling around him.

Ghosts,
he thought as he deliriously continued northwards.

Bracelet on the Blanket

“Down the hatches,” Cain said as he slammed his bottle of brew into Carla’s bottle, spilling beer over her legs, his manic and blue eyes burning deep into hers, his tough gaze hard to break from.

“I do believe these are the last of our outstanding brew,” he said matter of factly as he put his nose to the open bottle top, closing his eyes as he savoured its bittersweet smell. 

Carla stood up to wipe the mess from her skirt, “That’s a relief then, maybe we can do a nice wine next time, something that doesn’t make your bowels explode, there are enough problems without you gassing half the planet.”

“Wine!” Cain broke into a rapturous laugh.  “Wine!  Fucking wine!  What the fuck with?  Don’t see many award winning vineyards around here, do you?” Carla sat back down in a huff.

“Would be so nice, though, wouldn't it, a nice glass of fruity, red wine,” she said dreamily with a broken smile. “With some red meat, sitting out on a patio in the evening summer Sun.”

“Uh, what the fuck are you like, red wine on a patio,” he said shaking his head. “You need to wake up girl, there will be no red meat and wines on summer patios for us anymore.”

“I know, but a girl has to dream, doesn’t she?”

“Dream on babe, you’ll only be tormenting yourself.  Dream on.”  He took another swig of beer, beads of sweat on his forehead catching the sand from the breeze.

Carla looked across at him as he swiftly finished off the bottle with a satisfying belch before tossing it across the plains, watching it bounce across the hard, dry ground and out of sight into the brown, dusty haze.

“You enjoy all this shit don’t you?” Carla said, looking at him sternly. “You enjoy this misery, this fucked up world, and it’s fucked up people.  To you it's like a game, a challenge perhaps, to see what a big man you are.”  Cain looked across at her with a sarcastic, sweet smile, the furrows of his tanned brow wrinkling.

“This, my dear girl, is what life is all about,” he said softly.  “This is as real as it gets,” pointing his finger towards her. “You think that cosy life you had before was real; waking up every day in your pretty, little, brick cage, working day after day for a prick you didn’t give a fuck about, while the rich rested in their mansions all day long, spending your wages on shit, then more shit, thinking a holiday was a well-deserved treat because you had been working so… damned… hard.”

“I must say, I,” she paused and gave out a forced, sarcastic laugh, “I didn’t quite see it that way.” 

Cain quickly broke in, “That’s because like every other dimwit you were blind to what was really going on, what the truth was, like lambs to the slaughter.”

“And what was the truth, Professor?”

“That we were all being fucked brutally up the arse.”

“Really?” Carla smirked.

“Yes, really,” Cain replied with a slow, mocking nod, “and the sad thing is, you enjoyed it so very much; day in, day out.  Like a little, pet puppy; you sat down when they told you, ate when they told you, and took a shit when they told you.”  Carla continued to smirk, thinking Cain was getting into one of his hilarious rants again.

“But I have some good news,” Cain added.

“Please, do enlighten me?” her eyes mocking him back.

“You’re free of it!  Finally, you're free!” he said with a slap of his hands across his thighs.  “So use it wisely, and don’t let anybody shackle you in chains again, or you,” pointing his finger at her again, “you, and every other deaf, blind and dumb cunt will be damned again.”

“That’s very charmingly put, and may I say, useful information.  I will bear that in mind as I slowly choke on this radioactive shit for dust,” she replied, returning to the buggy.  This isn’t freedom; this is life on borrowed time.  Look around you, what is this crap blowing in the wind, filling my lungs and killing me slowly?  The sands of borrowed time!” she shouted back over her shoulder, swirling her finger in the air at him.  Cain followed her to the buggy and jumped in, feeling the heat from the Sun exposed leather seats.  He looked across at Carla, at her tired face, her sullen eyes, her matted, unkempt hair.

“Freedom takes its toll on some,” he said aloud.  “Some take it by the horns and tame the beast…”

“And others?” Carla interrupted nervously.

“While others see a rabid, wild animal that scares them to death.  They run away, looking for the nearest cave to hide in, looking for security and shelter.”

Carla stared ahead silently as Cain started the engine and engaged the gearbox, flooring the accelerator, sending the buggy flying forward.

“So why are we looking for Kyla then?  She has tamed the beast as you say, made it in the big wide world.  She deserves her freedom, does she not?”  Excuse me if I appear confused on the matter.” Carla asked.

“Kyla wants independence, not freedom.  She is as scared as everyone else by this little situation.  Her eyes don’t even see the beast, only its shadows.  She wants to be her own person, strike out on her own, but doesn’t know how to do so, that’s why she’s running.”  Carla looked across at Cain confused as he drove the buggy deeper north across the plains. 

He looked across at her, sensing her bewilderment before continuing, “She is scared like all the others.  She is running from this disaster.  It consumes her as she runs, not able to be free until she is free of it.”

“Well, that will never happen, not for any of us.”

“Exactly!”

“Even for you,” Carla said above the roar of the engine.

“Maybe, and point taken, but the beast doesn’t scare me, not as it did before.”

“Really, now!” Carla said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Really, yes,” Cain replied with enthusiasm.  “The beast has been wounded, maybe fatally.  There is no system of control over us anymore.  Don’t you see that?”

“Yes, but we are still limited, by the disaster, are we not?  We will always be bound by something, restrained against our true will by the forces of nature alone?”

“Of course, but not by anyone’s rules anymore, and that’s the important difference.  We are as the wild animals now, free to build our own system, choose our own way, free of rules, regulations, and bullshit.  Free to explore our environment as it truly is and shape it to our needs.”

“Look ahead!” Carla exclaimed.  “Do you see it?”

“Yes, yes, I see it,” Cain replied as he strained his eyes, looking through the thick, yellow haze.  “A land ship,” he continued.  “A lovely little ship, parked in the middle of nowhere, for all to see.”  Cain turned the buggy towards the ship, looking eagerly at it, his eyes following the tall wooden mast upwards until it disappeared into the sandy haze.  A phrase, almost looking like graffiti, caught Carla’s eyes, etched on its side,
The curse of the wild,
written haphazardly in bold, red letters across its wooden planks.

“The sails are bound,” Cain said.  “Either the crew has gone for a wander, or they are inside resting, sheltering from the wind.”  Cain pulled the buggy alongside the ship.

“Looks like it's seen better days,” he said, looking at the splintered, weather-worn wood.

“Shall we take a peek, a little look around?” Cain asked, “See whose home.”

“Could do,” Carla replied as she stepped out of the buggy, looking more tired than ever.  The wind was gaining strength, whistling round the ship, rattling its loose wooden frame as the watery Sun blazed down upon them.  Cain gave Carla a leg up onto its deck, soon following by climbing up, Carla giving a helpful pull on his arm.

“Nice ship,” Carla said sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It certainly looks like it's been through some rough times.  I guess the weather doesn’t help too, the state of the wood is shocking,” Cain said as he looked around intently at the woodwork, smoothing it carefully with his hands.

“Maybe it was dumped here a long time ago,” Carla said, looking bored.  “Maybe they got stuck here, died, their skeletons inside, grinning with delight that it came to this,” she continued with playful amusement.

“No, look down there, fresh tyre tracks, the sand would have covered them within a day or two if they were not.  They must have come recently; very recently.  They must be close by.”  Cain replied with a stern look on his face, looking around into the desert like he was deep in thought as Carla turned to see the tracks for herself.  “Look here, these marks, these holes, shrapnel and bullet holes, even burn marks present around the impact sites,” Cain continued. “This ship has certainly seen some action for sure, and recently.

Carla walked across to the bridge, knocking on the door, it's hollow sound suggesting it was suffering from dry rot.

“Anyone at home?   I think we took a wrong turn, and it would be so kind of you if you could give us some directions so that we could be on our way,” she shouted through the door.  “Hello, hello o!” she continued, breaking out into a laugh.

“Stop this nonsense,” Cain said angrily.  “There’s no fucker here, that is plainly obvious!  One fucking beer is all you’ve had and look at you!”  Carla looked across at him with a sly smile on her face before opening the door and walking inside.  Cain quickly followed her but was stopped at the door by Carla.

“No don’t, it's too gruesome,” she said as she raised her shades to look him in the eye.

“Fuck off, get out my way or I’ll punch you out my way,” he replied, throwing her aside.  Cain looked around.

“There’s no fuck here, you dizzy bitch,” he said, looking at the blankets on the floor.  “But they must be close, look at all this water, no one would leave so much fucking water,” he continued in amazement looking at the dozens of bottled water lined up in a row on the floor.  Carla picked up one of the blankets and held it to her nose.

“The sweat is fresh, young and female,” she said, throwing the blanket back to where she picked it up.  “What a doss-hole,” she continued. “They could’ve at least given it a lick of fresh paint, hung some pictures up on the wall, put a nice carpet down,” she said smiling at Cain.  He picked up the blankets and looked at them.  Just as he was about to chuck them back on the floor, Cain saw something grabbed his attention.  He pulled the blanket nearer his face, staring at a small bracelet half-hidden in the folds.  He picked it up, placing it in his palm, looking stunned.

“Do you know who this belongs to?” he asked Carla, walking over to her and pointing eagerly at the bracelet.

“Let me guess,” holding her finger to her mouth, playing the bad actress before saying, “Bayliss?”

“No!

“Perhaps one of yours then?

“No!  No!  No!”

“I have no bloody idea then,” she teased.  Cain clenched his lips firmly tight, giving out a large sigh through his nose as his cheeks bloated, turning blood red.

“She’s staying here, on this ship,” he suddenly burst out.  “Here!”

“Oh, you mean, what’s her name,” she said with a sneer.  “Ah yes, almost forgot, Kayleigh.”

“Kyla!” he said throwing the blanket at her. 

She laughed, “Oh come on, that trinket could be one of many of its kind.  It could have fallen from the wrist of any girl.”

“No, I sense her here.”

“You want badly to think she’s here.”

“Either way, I intend to find out,” he said as his eyes glazed over.

He rushed back out through the door, his forceful haste almost unhinging it, running out onto the deck, frantically circling its perimeter, looking deep out as far as he could see into the desert.

“She’s here, I know it,” he said aloud, not caring if Carla was listening or not.

“She’s fucking close,” he continued in a muffled tone, “so close, I can almost feel her touching my skin.”  He heard Carla’s footsteps behind, slowly creeping up on him, the soles of her boots clanking against the dry rotten wood of the deck as her skirt fluttered in the wind.  Cain continued to look out into the swirling, dusty wind, the tracks of the ship now completely covered.

“Lost in time,” he whispered to himself, “as we all will; today, tomorrow, doesn’t matter when.  The sand will surely consume us all.”