The Desert

The Desert
By Jacob Stanford

         Most people in the world have never actually seen a desert. I remember when I was going through the desert; the temperatures would reach 124 degrees Fahrenheit on a good day. On a bad day the temperature would be the same but the wind would blow and sand would come at me like a wall and there was nothing that I could do to get away from it. It consumed me, covering everything with fine silt. I found myself eating it, drinking it, and most annoying of all I found myself incapable of seeing, for there was no way to get the sand out of my eyes.
         The skin on my body turned a leathery brown, where I was in no need of sunscreen anymore. I also found that I had a permanent squint to my eyes that made me look mad all of the time when in fact it was just an effect of trying to shade my eyes from the blaze of the sun that always seemed to be there.
         Eventually I got used to all of these little annoyances just as I got used to drinking boiling hot water because there was no way to cool it. Usually after two weeks of wearing the same clothes without a shower or bath I got acquainted with that too. My sweat left deposits of salt all over my garments. But at the end of the day, I didn’t care because I was still conscious and breathing. I had food to eat and water to drink, and I understood that is what was truly important. Clean clothes, air conditioning, cold water, and fresh food are luxuries that at the end of the day may be lacking yet I was still alive.
         I had to admit, misery was not lacking in a place like this due to the living conditions, yet all this misery fades to nothing when I realized the reason I was there. Every day, even multiple times a day I traveled over the dunes and small canyons to find someone to kill. When we were kids we use to play in sandboxes with our friends, with our little action figures figuratively killing each other. I would be lying if I didn’t at some point compare that to the life sized version sandbox that we were playing in. I don’t know where the others are or even if I will see them today, all I really cared about was that I dispatch them before they get to me.
         Fear takes over my body at such times; it consumes me as a fire eats a piece of paper. My ability to control it is like my ability to control a tornado. The only way to live with it is just to accept that the tornado will come as it will and I will need to move to let it pass away from me. I start to ask myself questions: is life so valuable? Will I live through the day? Will my friend?
         I wish I could describe to you what it is truly like to take another person’s life. The screams and noises are truly indescribable. There are bodily fluids and blood, and parts of the body pointing at extreme angles. The eyes look like a blind persons would, not focused on anything. The only thing that goes through my mind is that it wasn’t me, this time. I cannot linger on death in a place like the desert. I can either accept that it happens and continue my day, or be haunted by it and perhaps be the next victim of death.
         At times in the desert however, I actually got a break. I wake up and look at the sky that is painted with orange, gold, and colors like I have never seen. There is not a camera in the world that could capture a moment like that, where everything in the world was right. I would feel sentimental in those moments and tuck them away in the back of my mind so that I will have something to think about later.
         One day it is over, I was on a helicopter riding back to a place that had all the amenities that I had been lacking. As soon as I landed I headed for the ice box and grabbed a bottle of water, I took a long swig, and a second later it was coming back up just as cold as when it went down and then it was all over the floor.