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Copyright © 2004, S. Y. Affolee 9 Dash and a Thought Dash told himself that he should get some sleep, but he couldn’t even close his eyes, not when everyone else seemed completely oblivious to the fact that they were camping out in the middle of the Dustlands. Why am I here again, he wondered to himself, and he found his gaze sliding towards a sleeping figure with a large cat curled up at her feet. Better not answer that question, just let them think it’s all about the money. For a moment, a pang of jealousy crept into his heart and he tried to push it away. How could she sleep all the way out here, in the middle of ghost country? Oh yeah, she didn’t believe in ghosts. Ficket was snoring gently and even Altner seemed to be asleep. Didn’t the wilderness guide know more about the dangers than he did? True, Dash had never encountered a ghost before, but there was a first time for everything, especially after his brief encounter with brush spiders the last time he had been out here. He shifted to his side so he did not have to face the rest of his traveling companions. The first bit of truth about the Dustlands had been given to him by his mentor, Axel Redding. It had been an eventful day. He had just turned twenty—although he had told no one—and he had finally got up the nerve to make a move on Prudence. True, Prudence was a tomboy with her penchant for male clothes—she would probably always be a tomboy—but there was no way he could ignore the fact that she definitely did not look like a man. Back then, she did not have her puma as a companion—that came a few years later—so it had been remarkably easy to corner her at the well on Redding’s property. She had been lugging back a bucket of water for a favor for their mentor. In his nervousness he had blurted out a compliment about her hair which was tucked underneath her hat. She was surprised, then suspicious, and he had given in to his own sarcastic temper at the time and insulted her in the same breath. She then threw the bucket of water at him. Chastened, morose, and depressed, not to mention dripping wet, he had drawn a new bucket of water from the well and hauled it back to Redding’s kitchen. Not sure what to do, he had placed the bucket near the wash basin, went to his room for some dry clothes and went back to the kitchen to slump into one of the dining room chairs, berating himself about acting like a moron. Axel Redding had discovered him there when he came back home from his latest job. Seeing the bucket of water, he had asked, “Where’s Prudence?” “Probably at home, hating my guts,” he had muttered. Redding had pursed his lips as he finally had noticed the young man’s wet hair and took a chair opposite of him. “What happened?” Dash had looked up at the older man. Back then, he didn’t even think to question his own trust in the man. So he had told his mentor everything. Redding didn’t seem particularly surprised or alarmed. Perhaps he knew all along about Dash’s infatuation. “You have no finesse,” his mentor had concluded. Dash had turned all shades of red at that remark. “I never had trouble with girls before.” “Prudence isn’t like other girls.” Redding had narrowed his eyes. “She’s a trouver.” He had sat there digesting that when there was a bang at the kitchen door. It had been Prudence and it had looked like she had been crying. But she had said nothing about that. Instead, she had told Redding, “I’m sorry about the water. I…I had an accident and Dash did it for me.” She had sniffed, studiously avoiding Dash’s gaze. “Thank you,” Redding said seriously. He had noticed a tear escaping from the corner of her eye, but she had ignored it, only to nod once and stalk to the interior of the house, probably to her room. He had felt like the scum at the bottom of the wash bucket. “She’s still young. You’re still young. And foolish.” He had only gulped at his mentor’s words. “You know the Dustlands?” Dash had struggled with the abrupt change in topic. “Yes?” “Only foolish people go into the Dustlands.” “You aren’t sending me there, are you?” “No Dash, but you might have to go there someday.” “What?!” Axel Redding had gotten a faraway look in his eye at that moment. It wasn’t the kind of look that people had when they were reminiscing about a pleasant past memory. It was both hard and unfocused at the same time as if he was reliving something he wished never to see again. “The pull of the Dustlands at some point in our lives always gets the better of us. Us, you, me, Prudence, others like us.” “But the Dustlands, that’s the end of the world!” “It’s the end of the world if you let it,” his mentor had said enigmatically. “It’s where many have ended their lives, whether by accident or deliberately. Strange creatures live there, although some might not call it exactly living. Some are no longer human, although they still crave what they used to have.” “No longer human?” “Ghosts. If you see one, there would be no doubt what it is.” “Have you seen one before?” “I was about your age, filled with wanderlust,” he had smiled wearily. “I got hired for working with a caravan going down south to Havan’s Creek for some trading. The owner liked cutting corners and he never believed in the ‘hogwash’ about the Dustlands anyway so part of the route crossed through the Dustlands. It was the longest two weeks of my life.” “But you made it through all right.” “So did the merchandise, but half the men on that caravan perished.” Dash shivered under his blankets and squeezed his eyes shut. Why was he out here anyway? He was bound to repeat that question a million times while he was here although he admitted that he didn’t have the courage to answer it. He didn’t have the courage for a lot of things. He must have ended up dozing anyway because the next thing he knew, he was awakened by a faint rustling sound behind him. Muzzy headed, he turned to see Prudence folding up her blankets. She stopped and they stared at each other. A voice in the back of his mind, one that he heard so often that he managed to ignore it like so much chatter, whispered encouraging things. It broke off when she suddenly scowled. “You’re up.” She turned her head to get something and he could no longer see her eyes. “You usually get up pretty early.” “Not today, I guess.” Slowly, he stretched and got up to do the usual morning tasks. Altner had gotten up earlier too and had disappeared into the brush to do whatever wilderness guides did in the morning. Ficket had gotten up last, but his disposition was still as enthusiastic as ever. As they started out, Altner naturally took the lead. The wilderness guide had his head tipped up, glancing at the clouds. They were steady thin wisps. A wind came from the south and it was warm. Altner remarked briefly that the day was going to be a good one. Dash took the rear this time and tipped his fedora down so no one, if they happened to look back, could tell where his gaze was fixed upon. Ficket was doing most of the babbling again—mostly about his life back east. Prudence nodded occasionally, appearing to be listening. For most of the morning, Dash was silent as he stared at Prudence’s back, transported back to his stuttering younger self.  |