Go West Young Man

“David, I must confess; I don’t know who I am anymore.” Alfred sounded eerie, but serious as he spoke to his brother in the confines of his tiny apartment.
“Is it because of that day?” questioned David in a monotonous tone. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean for that to happen.” Alfred was the older of the two, with hazy, thick brown hair combed over, and a bushy brown goatee. He was a well built man, with large arms, but his face still grew older with each day.
David was almost opposite: He had shady gray hair (also combed over). They were both in their late thirties and they both were about six feet tall. David spoke hoarsely, like a younger Clint Eastwood, while Alfred spoke cleanly and clearly with intelligence in his tone. They were both accountants, but Alfred was better suited for
a more thought provoking job. He was a deeper soul, who often scribbled little theories on paper and posed rhetorical questions to himself.
“I know it wasn’t my fault,” continued Alfred. “But the truth is, I don’t know right from right anymore. I hear of shootings and robberies every day, and I see the poverty and travesty on the street, and I wonder--if there is a God, then why does he cause us to suffer like this?”
“Why do you say things like that Alfred?” David said shaking his head slowly.
“It’s true isn’t it?” He took a moment to regain (some saliva in his mouth.) “Anyway, I’m leaving this place and going somewhere surreal and quiet; someplace where the wind tells what it has to say; someplace where I can find a soul.”
“Are you going to a forest?” David asked in a worried, high sounding pitch.
“No, there are too many dangers and civilization is usually close by. I’m going to a desert. Nobody can bother me there; I figure that after a few days of solitude, I might actually be able to see straight.”
“Well, I’m coming, too.”
“No you’re not; I can’t lose you.”
“I can’t lose you, either,” retorted David. “You’re all I have and there would be no way to know if you were dead or alive, so I’m coming.” David was decisive in his words, giving Alfred no chance to say no.
“You wouldn’t be here if you had not escaped from that carnage,” said Alfred. “Maybe you’re meant to come with me.” For a simple moment, these two brothers remembered what happened on that night.
It was thirty years ago when they were nine and ten, on a night shrouded in darkness, when the stars and moon hid behind an overcast of clouds. Alfred and David were asleep in their bunk beds on the first floor, and their parents were on the second floor of the lavish two story house. A loud buzz like a fizzing light that was just about broke, woke Alfred up. As he stepped out into a sea of darkness he smelled smoke, which had a distinct charcoal scent.
A large flame began to engulf the house, and Alfred began crying loudly, not knowing what to do. What do I do, thought Alfred, fearing the worst. I want to move, but I can’t. He just stood there watching the flames infect the house. Then David entered wiping his tired eyes and asking Alfred what that noise was. They both just watched their family picture melting and watching the racing flames climb the stairs.
Their parents stood at the top of the stairs yelling at Alfred and David to run outside and wait. They ran outside and waited; but after a few minutes, they began to worry. Where are they, wondered Alfred as he stared down the house like a predator focused on its weak and sick prey.
“Where are they, Alfred?” whimpered David, hoping that Alfred would say that everything was all right.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. Minutes passed and the fire department arrived, immediately quenching the fire until only soggy wood and a frame of the house stood. The flames took the whole house, and their parents could not escape, the smoke robbing them of breath. For a moment their hearts froze and they stood like statues, with bubbly eyes and confused thoughts. The fire department said that a set of wires in the oven blew and created a tremendous spark. The brothers tried to think of the last hug that they received from mom and the last smile they saw; from both because their parents would never do those things again. The worst part was that their parents would nevermore say, “I love you.”
It was three days after their departure for a desert in the northern part of the country of Liberia. They took a United Airways jet to get there, carrying only cantinas, rations, and the robes on their backs. After they arrived, they took a cab all the way out to the desert, which took up two hundred dollars and one hour. Almost instantly the heat took their breath away, causing them to breathe with their mouths open. The flaming sun loomed over them like a haunting dream. The landscape was nothing but parabolas of sand for miles and miles, with a wave of heat on the horizon.
The sun’s rays constantly stung their skin in a pulsating fashion, as they began to trudge in the sand like it was layered snow. The whole day was so foreign that the two of them never spoke a word their marathon walk. Only at six o’ clock (when they took a break) did they begin to talk. They sat down as sand conformed to their waists, and started on one of their ration meals.
“Look over there, Alfred,” said David with a mouthful of hamburger. Their backs were at the sun, as was a rock, and a drinking glass sized spider was lounging in the comforts of its shade. “That is a camel spider. It seeks out shade in the day and hunts in the night. If you disturb it, it will chase you at ten miles per hour just to get your shadow; and if you trip and fall, then you are done for.”
“How do you know that?” asked Alfred in a curious way.
“I have a weird fetish for spiders. We’re lucky because those things can be as big as notebooks-since they shed periododically, and if they keep growing, they may get three feet long! The scariest part is they inject you with a Novocain-like substance so they can gnaw at you all night.”
“Huh. Isn’t that strange?” Alfred got up and began walking into the endless desert. At this point, sweat was plummeting like rain, making them look like they just came out of a pool. Then something fell out of Alfred’s robe. It was a locket.
“What is that Alfred?”
“It’s Mom’s locket. A fireman gave it to me; he said it was a miracle that it survived.”
“What’s in it?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m not opening it.”
“That’s fine.” They stopped talking to conserve energy and saliva. At about eight o’ clock, they camped out and dug large holes for beds. They both just gazed up at the wonders of the sky as it slowly changed into a mesmerizing twilight full of inspiration and beauty. The air began to breathe cooler and created a heavenly breeze that acted as a refreshing blanket for them.
“Hey, Alfred,” David said, taking his time.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“How do you expect to find anything here?” Alfred was still for a minute, just looking up at the sky in a trance.
“Do you remember when we were about five years old and mom and dad took us up to the roof on a clear night such as this?”
“I vaguely remember.”
“We lay on the shingles of that roof and counted the sheets of the little bright stars that filled up an empty space of fathomable darkness. Then at around ten o’ clock we saw a comet stroll across our path, carrying a flaming tail of vibrant colors. You and I just had our mouths open because it was so amazing. The funny thing was that they knew a comet was coming, but we didn’t.” Alfred gave a feigned laugh. “I guess I just expect something impromptu to happen; something that will all of the suddenly open my eyes. That’s what I think.”
“Funny; I don’t remember that. Then again, I never had a very good memory, but I can still recall one star. I know where the North Star is.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s right-there!” He stretched his right index finger out as far as he could, and pointed at the big shiny dot that created an illuminating aurora around itself.
“That is a big star.” Alfred was just saying that for the sake of saying something.
“Listen Alfred,” David said in a yawn. “I’m going to go to sleep now okay?”
“Goodnight,” Alfred yawned. The next morning’s violent heat woke them up. It was eight thirty according to Alfred’s Timex watch. It is searing out here, Alfred thought. He saw David a few yards away playing with the sand. Why is he doing that?
“Hey David, let’s get going!” David perked up and scrambled to his feet. They marched on against the humidity, only stopping for food and bathroom breaks. After a while they back tracked, just in case they had to get out of the desert in a few days. Night fell like a thief(the way he sneaks up upon innocent people), and they once again dug foxholes for beds.
“You know Alfred; the night is kind of enchanting, really. It can really lull you to sleep.” David was speaking mystically like he was hypnotized into a calm state of being.
“I often wonder what lies beyond space. Seeing how the universe is infinite, so what else is out there? You know what I’m saying David?” Alfred sounded lost, too.
“I think so. Let me sleep on that one, okay?”
“That sounds good to me.” All that night time chit-chat reminded Alfred of him and David’s bunk bed conversations. The night elapsed effortlessly, giving Alfred no chance to dream. When he woke up it was eight fifteen, but it seemed like only a minute had passed. His eyes still felt heavy as if anchors were pulling them down. He closed his eyes and smacked his mouth, but something deeply disturbing was keeping him awake.
There was a slow chewing sound like an insane old man’s consumption of something repulsive and grotesque. The chewing was constantly paced, and was coming from David’s foxhole. It was too petite to be David, but what else could it be, Alfred thought. He was befuddled, and then he heard thumping like the footsteps of infants on carpet.
Slowly he got to his feet and crept over to David’s foxhole. On the rim of the hole, he could see fresh drops of crisp blood which glistened in the sun. Then- in David’s foxhole-was something that sent a grizzly chill down Alfred’s spine. There was a hideously large camel spider, the size of a dinner plate, happily gnawing away at David’s raw and bloody leg. It had been there all night, it seems, and David didn’t even know. There was an eerie sense of familiarity that caused Alfred to approach this thing with caution. The spider seemed content with the job he did, leaving the leg torn and diminished like a half eaten chicken leg. Alfred could clearly see a rod of bone amongst the exposed flesh.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw a decent sized rock, so he sprinted over and transported it to the hole. He aimed for the squishy abdomen of the spider and hurled the rock like it was a jagged baseball. The rock cut the spider’s abdomen and it quietly went to sleep forever. It also woke David, who cried with ferocious pain upon his awakening.
“David, can you move?” asked Alfred in a hurry.
“No, can’t you see my leg?” He was pouring words out while gritting the relentless pain. “I’m going to die here Alfred,” he said in a doomed sense of reality.
“No, you can’t die, David. You’re all that I have. There must be something we can do.” Alfred sounded timid and weak; he was backing up into a corner and trying to uncover a last resort.
“Face it, Alfred, there is nothing we can do. The massive blood loss is going to kill me, even if the heat does not. Try to go on knowing that I will look out for you, because you’re not completely lost yet.” He gave a long dry cough. “I love you Alfred, and that’s why I had to come out here. I’ve always…” His words were cut off by the silence of his heart.
Alfred just stood in the sand, listening to the wind. He just stood with nothing left in the world, in the breath of the arid soul of the sun, hovering over David’s corpse. I have to open this locket, he thought. I have to see what’s inside.
With trembling, dry hands, he cracked open the nail sized locket that was once golden, but now was a faded brass. He took a look at the breathtaking contents of that locket and felt an actual tear roll down his cheek. “No more,” he said solemnly. “I can take this no more.” He wrapped the trinket around David’s sand covered neck, then shut the face of the locket and walked back towards home.
He just walked like a depressed sloth, just inching his way across and breathing just enough to stay alive. It’s tough to breathe when every breath hurts. Upon the careless walking of Alfred, and his closed eyes, he tripped over a small familiar rock; only four hours after David’s death. Consequently that was the same rock that housed that small camel spider, and Alfred disturbed its peace.
He walked on, hearing rapid steps, and when he looked behind him, he saw a spider hunting his shadow. Alfred began to run like a spiked wall was closing in on him, and he sprinted faster than he had ever ran before, but that spider kept catching up. Then, out of the scornful fatigue from the tormenting sun, his legs gave out and he tripped to the ground. He was waiting for one last pinch, but that pinch never came. He looked behind him to see an equally scorched spider that died from dehydration. How did that happen, he thought. Then he wondered if it was David who stopped the spider. “That’s impossible,” he said with a laugh.
That night Alfred sat on the plain of sand and watched the stars and the moon as time flew by. Then, at about ten o’ clock, by the North Star, Alfred saw a phenomenal comet silently blast by the frame of darkness, carrying its flaming tail of vibrant colors. He just gave a large smile of relief. It was time to go home.