Savage Tales

die in this cage."
    "Maybe, but griping about it ain't gonna change that. Best get comfortable."
    "We gotta escape here, Martin! We gotta."
    "You got suggestions? I'm listening."
    "I got nothin'. I don't even have water."
    That wasn't true for long 'cause they brought around a cupful for each of us. We greedily lapped it up like dogs. The sun had come up and had a long ways ahead of it.
    We began moving again.
    "Where are they taking us?" said Bill.
    "Save your saliva and shut your mouth," I said.
    We went on for a few days like that, periodically getting a little water and a stale piece of bread. I've known better days than those. Finally we arrived at an encampment of a hundred nomads or so.
    We were kept in our cage a while, and then, to my surprise, we were let out. Our hands were kept tied, but nobody seemed concerned about us leaving. They underestimated our desperation. Perhaps we were too far from anywhere walkable, but that wouldn't stop us.
    That evening I kicked Bill out of his sleep and told him I was leaving and he was welcome to come along.
    "I ain't going nowhere," said Bill. "We'd die in that desert."
    "Keep your voice down," I said, "and stay behind if you want. They'll kill us eventually anyway. We might as well try. But I'm not gonna argue with you – I'm getting out of here."
    We were lying around a fire and a guard slept near us. I got up to go.
    "Wait," said Bill. "I'm coming too."
    We got out of there and found two camels and a canteen of water, and got going.
    We got about three hours before the sun came up, and then we paid. I tried to use my shirt to cover me, but it was useless and I was red and burned at day's end. We had finished the canteen by that night and Bill kept whining about not having food.
    "Shut up and eat sand then," I said.
    He didn't take my advice and kept whining.
    The second day was hell and I thought for sure there wouldn't be a third. I was a state of sand, not a human being of water. Sleep and awake were the same undifferentiated state.
    The third day I barely remember but for the bouncing motion of being on a camel. Bill perhaps was nearby on a camel of his own. I wasn't sure.
    And then I saw what must have been a mirage. It felt that way and yet was obviously not. I wanted to believe but did not want to face the disappointment afterward. So I stayed on the camel and kept going in the direction of the trees and tried not to give them too much thought. I looked at Bill but he was passed out on his camel, a ghost rider. I said nothing.
    We arrived and I climbed down, still expecting the pool of water to disappear at any moment. I fell to my knees and lowered my lips to barely an inch from that pool, my lips shaking, still not daring to believe that it was real.
    But it was! My mouth took that water and it was unlike any drink I have known. It was like an injection straight into my belly and my blood. It was a heroin shot of revivification. I must have drank for five minutes.
    Finally I came up and remembered Bill.
    "Bill! Get your fat ass down here and get some water."
    He didn't move until I said that last word, and then he was reborn, flying off his camel and sending his face under for such a deep gulp that I thought he might drown for lack of a break.
    When he came up I'd already gone and found some coconuts and cracked one open. It proved to be a revolution in taste.
    "We made it," I said.
    "Yes," said Bill. "Thank God."

    We were there together a week maybe. Bill's restlessness came from his appetite. That is my belief. He could only eat coconuts so long before going insane.
    "I'm leaving," he said.
    "You know what it's like out there," I said. "You're crazy."
    "I'll take my chances."
    He left the next morning with one of the camels.
    I stuck around another four days before I knew I had to go too. For me, it wasn't the food that pushed me over. I could've eaten coconuts forever and been comfortable. I enjoyed safety. No, what drove me on was Bill's absence. As much as the guy annoyed me, the empty loneliness of the desert was far worse.
    I set out one afternoon in the direction Bill had taken. There was of course no possibility of following his tracks. The desert sand was gentle and supple, smoothed over by wind within hours of his departure. I went on, but better prepared than when we had departed from the nomads. I had made a type of visor from the leaves of a tree at the oasis, and loaded down the camel with as many coconuts as it could handle without too many