Chapter 1: Everything Lost in the Desert

We've been living like this for awhile now: hiding among the sandstorms and making our escapes by day when the sand shielded us- barely avoiding the bandits who roam this land in search for anything they can find and destroy. Trying to find a better life after the demise of most of my family and some of my village, my brother and I accepted a journey with a traveling caravan. We lived drama as we were sold and seperated but we eventually found each other again among our native people.

After the bandits attacked, the survivors could not afford the protection fee and began attacking nearby villages for food and water and money. By the time my brother and I catch up with them by chance, there are no more villages still standing and thus no food supply. Water is available but difficult to find as the desert expands over the oasis. We hide with them having nowhere to go until the food supplies run short and people slowly starve to death. The savages among us dispose of the corpses by roasting the meat.

A rumor that the bandits have seen us arouse the sickly people in hiding. None have the physical strength left even to cry. I have not the emotion left to care. What would these people cry for, anyway? Starving women lay with their half-starving children. One who witnesses the deadness in the eyes of our men, caused by the endless pain and suffering, would never be able to imagine the spark they held at one time.

My little brother has already informed me on several occasions that he, in fact, has a death wish. I am just happy to be back with him again. I cover his eyes with my hand and lay his head on my chest, humming to him. I look to the dog beside me which we had discovered a stray upon the return to our people. She gives me that reassuring look which gives me hope of finding a safe haven for my brother, and a place for her to live out her short life in happiness.

In hopes of finding a village who could afford the protection fee, we travel. Our numbers cut by half or more in just a day. Every day more people die. It is like the tavern I used to work at, where people would come and go, and by the end of the day... not a trace of any of the day's disturbances remained... and just like that, the living, breathing people, slip from our minds.

Eventually it is only my brother and I left along with the dog: the strongest of us walking on all fours- the least damaged of us bearing a thick coat of fur the sand could not penetrate. I give my little brother a shawl of mine, which is big enough to spare him from the painful sting of the sand. I am left exposed but for the now scanty, torn, and weathered clothes I am wearing. We survive for days scavenging food and water from dead ones decorating our path. We hide by night when the sandstorms die down and the moon shines so brightly.

To the left of us spreads the vast desert, curded with dunes, random boulders, and sand deposits. To the right, a large rocky layered cliff. It looks as if God, should he exist, has cleaved a giant mountain in half and left only one massive piece standing. I find a perfectly hidden cave tonight. Twigs collected at the entrance, blown in by several years of heavy winds, provide us with a fire. After bedding my brother, he turns his head weakly and glances at me. He was never one for physical assertion. He is weak and will die soon should I not find a protected place for him to go.

I leave the safety of the shelter, scouring the sea of sand by moonlight for any rations of something edible. Someone grabs my arms from behind, forcing my shoulder blades together. I am pushed into the blue sand. My massivness compared to that of a grain of sand is painfully obvious, but a few grains is all it takes to disable my vision. The sand irritates my eyes and the after-product of tears clouds my sight. It is all I could do at the moment just to breathe.

"What's your name?" he questions me. I begin humming. "What's your name?" he repeats. Little does he know I have been unable to speak for a long, long time. I wrestle one of my arms free and spell K-I-A-R-R-A in the sand. He pulls me to my feet and begins dragging me somewhere. I allow enough time for him to explain the situation and when he does not speak I attack him and run as fast as my fatigued legs will carry me.

The blue sand loses its colour as it flies from beneath my feet like seaspray after an ocean wave hits a rock. Every time I take a step, my toes sink into the sand and hinder my movement. I pump my legs, each step draining more and more out of me. It feels almost as if I am running under water or trying to bicycle out of a sink hole. I stumble forward and cannot catch myself before I tumble down a steep sand dune. I roll to the bottom, my exposed sweaty skin covered with the gritty sand.

Laying there, my strength diminishes and the adrenaline rush wears off. I wheeze and cough as I inhale sand trying to vacuum up all the air around me. An exasperated look to the left reveales a ditch beneath a rock. Just big enough for me. I writhe and slither my way in until my back presses against the sand deposits under the rock. I am almost afraid it will fall and I'll be crushed. The ledge of the rock provides a full shelter from any bandit view. I hear a rush of footsteps.

"Leave her."

"But, sir, half decent women are a hard find these days. Offering the woman as a gift could repair broken bonds between you and the lord." A lowly bandit to a commander, obviously.

As they rush by, sand piles in my ditch. Little spurts of it fall at my face and I coldly watch their colour change from moonlit blue to a dark, shadowy colour. Are they to bury me? Do they not know I am down here?

I wait for hours, for the light of day, and for the initiating of the sandstorms. Only then I make my way back to the cave. He is lying just where I had left him by the ashes of what was once a fire, a smile on his face, and a three foot dried up wound through his torso. His blood is crusted on the floor all around. The dog is busily cleaning the gash of the dead boy. I cannot cry for him.

The dog refuses to leave his side and I am forced to leave her aswell might I starve to death in waiting. I continue on, a valuable piece of me left behind in that cave. Now I will stop nor hide anymore.

My prior caution had perhaps been taken to the extreme. I continue to travel during the day: should I sleep, the sand would bury me. However, after two nights of sleeping without cover in the wide open desert, I have not yet been found. The sandstorms have been thinning ever since I left the cave. A line of green on the horizon has been vexing my eyes and mind. Realizing the possibility of a mirage, I dare not raise my hopes.

I near the house at the end of the desert which was so close to my lost determination. If only I had found this place three days sooner. I can see the green colour that has been leading me clearly now. There is definitely grass here, but the impinging desert threatens to swallow it up pushing on the border. As I look out I see more dirt and less sand.

I walk up to the door, half frightened. What if this was a bandit hideout? Just nevermind it, I don't mind dying anyway. I just don't want to be captured and forced to live. Before I can knock on the door, a woman opens it with an annoyed smile. When she sees me her eyes widen and it changes into a smile of shock. Should I be younger and less experienced, the peaceful, unworried air about her would have irritated me. But I feel no ill will. I don't feel anything.

She examines me. Her face takes on a somewhat motherly look and she reaches out in an attempt to brush off the sand and grime that has become the outer layer of my skin. I back up, ready to bolt. "Do not fear, dear child. I have paid the protection dues. The bandits may not enter here for this is considered sacred land and I am a... client... of the bandits. I happen to be... friends with a local commander. What's your name?"

I hesitantly sign the letters of my name to her with my hands. The look in her eyes almost makes me want to live on. The three little girls slowly gathering behind her almost makes me smile. But I do not. Am I endangering her and her children by being here?

The bandits come. I hide inside while she leaves the house to greet the commander. She tells him she has a guest. She tells him my name. She tells him no, he cannot come in. The protection fee does nothing to protect her from the blow he deals. It does nothing to prevent the bandits from encircling the house. They all rush into the back. I run outside. The lady is shocked, but fine. A half-buried, abandoned car is my only option.

I jump in through the sunroof. I wedge myself almost perfectly in the foot-space provided for the back-seaters. The ledge of the front seats cover all of me except half of my face and my knees. There are no back seats for me to try and squeeze myself under.

Perhaps I would feel hopeful, but I already know the ending to my story. I will eventually just die. It might not happen here and now, but it will. When and how it happens I do not bother to care.

Someone peers inside. I can see them with my right eye, peering from behind the shelter of the seating. His gaze scans the interior of the car. And just as I'm sure he's ready to let me off the chase, he slowly but surely eyes me. He sees the shadowed half of my face unable to hide with the rest of my body. He reaches for me, his hands like long chains, reaching to bind me. My safety is no longer available and everything I have been running from for so long rips me from that unprotesting car. I am captured.