William Dietrich - Getting back

"Snake!" Tucker shouted, curling into a ball and holding his arm. "Snake, snake, snake! Oh-my-God-it-hurts!"

"Tucker, stop! Where's the snake?" Daniel pulled at him wildly, fearfully looking for the reptile before realizing that it must have been flung away. The big man no doubt put his hand into a nest in his anxious scramble upward. Now Daniel grabbed his bitten hand and saw fang marks plain in the flesh in back of the thumb, the skin beginning to swell. He paled. Australia had some of the most venomous snakes in the world.

"It hurts so bad," Tucker moaned. "I hate snakes!"

"Then you should have gone to the Arctic." It was a lame attempt at levity. Daniel yanked at the man's shirtsleeve, ripping it from the shoulder. He wound the material around the forearm and pulled tight to make a tourniquet. A pocketknife made a quick, bloody incision and he squeezed the flesh, hoping he was squeezing some venom out. His friend howled as he did it, blood spraying to spatter gray leaves.

"Jesus, what a mess!" How poisonous was it?

Tucker was sweating despite the dawn cool, his chest heaving frantically. Daniel was frightened he was going to die. "Okay, lay back, I'm going to get some help," he told his friend with more reassurance than he felt. Their antivenin kit had been lost in the flood. "You're going to be all right, understand?"

Tucker nodded, pale with fear. "Where's the snake? I'm afraid of the snake."

"The snake? You must have put it in orbit. Don't worry about snakes, your thrashing has just about scared the shit out of everything in Australia, with legs or without."

"That's good." He gave a grimaced smile. "Man, I'm hurt from the fall too. What a screw-up mess."

"I'll be right back, okay? Just wait."

He groaned. "Like I'm going to go anywhere."

Daniel could hear the confused calls of the others and shouted back, jogging off in that direction. They were only a few hundred yards away. He stumbled into camp.

"Where's Tucker?"

"Snakebite," he gasped.

The other two looked stricken.

"And I was right, someone else is sneaking around here."

They looked about wildly.

"Look, I think the stranger's gone, but Tucker's in bad shape. We'll have to carry him into camp."

"We can't carry Tucker!" Ico protested. "He weighs a ton!"

"I think we have to."

They hurried back to the weakening man. He was delirious when they got to him, curled again and shaking, looking like a ghost from the coating of dust. "Holy shit," Ico breathed. "He looks like he's dying."

"What kind of snake?" Amaya asked.

"How do I know? It's not like it matters now."

"How can we move him?"

It was Ico who had the idea to build a triangular travois like the Plains Indians and drag their big companion. They cut branches and vines to fasten a crude frame, rolled Tucker onto it despite his roar of protest, tied him down, and gave a tentative heave. The poles dragged along the ground with less friction than his full body. "Okay, this will work," Daniel said. "Here we go. One, two, three, pull!" A jerk and they were off, dust spurting from the ends of the two poles. Weaving this way and that, they pulled him back between the mulga trees and got to camp at mid-morning.

When they returned, all their food- except the sack Amaya had hung from a bush- was gone. Their campsite was spotted with the strange maplike grid of a waffle-soled boot.

A trail of boot prints led east and so they went that way too. The four of them had one gallon of water left to share and the temperature was arcing with the sun. Tucker had slipped into uneasy sleep on his travois, his bandaged arm grotesquely swollen. Flies crawled across his sweating face.

They managed half a mile per hour and collapsed by noon. The sled was exhausting.

"Look, we have to leave him," Ico croaked.

"No way!" protested Amaya.

"Just until we find water. Then we come back and get him."

"Ico, he could die!"

"We'll all die if we don't get some water."

She shook her head. "You two go ahead then. I'll wait with him."

Daniel vetoed that. "I'm not leaving you alone with this crazy guy wandering around. And I don't want just one of us scouting for water, either. We have to stay together."

"Dyson…"

"Come on. This guy, or guys, must be heading to water too. We follow them as a group. It's the safest way."

By mid-afternoon, though, the growing impossibility was obvious. Their water was gone. The desert shimmered, its heat climaxing near one hundred degrees. The trio was exhausted from their turns pulling the travois. Tucker seemed to be slipping into permanent unconsciousness. And the landscape was unchanged.

They dropped into the shade of a stunted tree, a parade of ants marching up its twisted trunk. A kite wheeled in the cloudless sky. They felt absolutely demoralized and exhausted.

"We're done," Ico said.

"Don't say that," Amaya pleaded.

"Even if we find water we've lost too much gear. We don't have much food, we don't have tools… what did we last, a week and a half? They'd laugh, if they ever knew."

"We've just had bad luck. That guy robbed us. That's like trying to murder us."

"Ten to one he's succeeded within twenty-four hours."

"But why?"

"Maybe he got hungry himself. So he preys on the newcomers. Dog eat dog. There's a survival lesson for you."

"Then why not just slit our throats? He could have, last night."

"Maybe he's fastidious."

Daniel looked up at the desert sky. Not a cloud, not a plane, not a hope. He hadn't known it was possible to feel so alone. "Okay, Ico, you go on ahead," he conceded. "It's our only chance. Take the water containers and we'll wait with Tucker. I don't want to leave Amaya alone."

Ico nodded. The decision was inevitable. "I'll need the last food."

"No."

"Dyson, I have to eat to hike. I'll push faster with it than without it."

"No. I want you to come back."

"Jesus!"

"The last food stays here. You're the one who talked about splitting up."

Ico sullenly gathered up the remaining canteens as Tucker groaned restlessly. Amaya dug in her pack and gave him some of their last emergency ration bars. "Daniel didn't really mean that," she whispered.

"Yes he did." Ico left without looking back.

They watched the sun set with their hopes. Daniel had seldom been truly thirsty before, but now his throat was closing, his tongue swelling, and the need for water was intruding on all other thoughts. Soon it would hurt to talk.

The flies left, the stars came, and a chill crept into the air. He looked at Amaya, sitting small and forlorn next to Tucker. "Amaya," he croaked. "Come here." She crawled to him and he put an arm around her. "Help me stay warm."

"I'm scared, Daniel," she confessed. "I want to go back."

He hugged her, kissing the top of her hair with his dry, cracked lips. "Me too. But we can't, not yet."

She cuddled, relaxing in his embrace, and they listened to the sounds of the night creatures. The heat of her body felt good. A spark of life. "I'm glad I'm not alone," she said.

He nodded. "Me too. Can I make a confession?"

"A deathbed one?"

"Don't say that."

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to joke. Go on. Confess."

He hesitated. "I saw you a few nights ago. In the river."

"In the river?"

"Bathing."

"Oh." She was quiet. "How did I look?"

"Beautiful. The stars, the water…"

"You were just horny. Or thirsty."

"No. It was nice. You were nice. I just wanted to say that."

"A compliment?"

"That's what I meant."

"All right. Good. Now, can I make a confession?"

"Of course."

She looked at him mischievously. "I saw you too. Watching, I mean."

"Oh."

"I liked it."

"Good." He lowered his face to brush against her cheek and she turned and kissed him then, their lips dry but the touch a quiet comfort. "I wonder what would have happened if we'd had more time?" he asked.