All the Little Suns

A Short Story About Faith in the Desert

The wash they followed was dry. The sand in it had seen no water since before any of them were born, and that was long enough that most would not hope for that to change. At their flanks, the desert rose hard and smooth and orange like waves ever crashing. Striped along these walls were the stories of water and of wind and of the people that once bent to drink from the now-dry river. Three of the forty turned to look, and of these only one cared to read. They were not chasing stories on rocks.

What is we chasin?

How now?

I say, what is we chasin?

Who said anything about chasin?

The short man paused and looked around. At the sky, the sand, the walls, and then at his taller compatriot. Dint you?

Not me.

The short one looked back as they started to walk again, now in the rear of the company.

Well?

Well what?

Well, since we done opened up the discussion, I thought we might see it through. I figured you was just takin some moments to reflect on what to say.

I ain't got nothing to say. We out here because ain't got money and we ain't got honest work to come by it, nor honest bones that work to do.

We just chasin after money then? Sure as hell is easier ways to come by money. How much he even payin us to do whatever we doin?

I don't know.

S**t.

What?

We ain't got a clue what we're doin or how much we're getting for it. I reckon we died, cousin. Sure is hot enough to be hell.

Hush now, we're stopping.

What for?

He could not see over the forty taller bodies ahead.

I say hush now.

The man in charge climbed up onto a buttress on the banks, and then stood looking over the lot of them. He came to the edge of the rock and stood, and even though he had not yet begun to speak, his silent followers were already listening. His head moved slowly across them.

He fixin to preach?

For an instant, the man quit his scanning and regarded the shorter man before continuing. For nearly a minute he stood, silent and motionless, and then held up a hand. A few of the onlookers exchanged glances. A few of them held up a hand in turn. The leader then turned around and climbed back down into the wash.

That all? He laughed. A hand?

What you want from him?

Hell, a few words. Thanks for draggin your sorry asses out into this dead place. Here's the plan. Somethin. What in the hell I supposed to do with his hand?

I'll remind you that he picked us up off the street, roastin in the sun and chokin on our own sick.

A mighty kind thing to do. I ever see him so, I'll make sure to do the same. Don't merit a god damn pilgrimage through the desert.

What for you come along then?

A man lifts you outa delirium and tells you he can pay you to do God's work, you get to listenin.

How come you believe it then and not now?

Cause then I knew why I was thirsty and my head ached, now I ain't got a god damn clue.

They didn't make camp until it was well dark. Small fires sprung up about the wash, casting their weak glow upon silent men who stared vacantly into the flames and upon silent men who stared into them with purpose, whatever that purpose may have been. The shorter poked at his dying embers with the heel of his ragged boot and sipped on the last of his water. He lay back and nestled his head in the sand.

Why, I don't believe I ever saw a night like this.

The taller looked up.

I ever tell you what that man in the brothel back home told me bout the stars?

The taller shook his head. The shorter laughed before speaking.

Told me they was all of them just like the sun, only further off.

He laughed again.

I suppose whiskey's had me saying dumber. What you think about em?

I think it don't matter what I think about em. They is what they is. Thinkin won't make them otherwise.

He scoffed. You just lie there then, cousin, lookin up at all them suns.

They were on their way again before the sun was. A few fires smoldered yet. A few last stars. The tall and the short man walked in the front, not twenty paces behind the one who led them. None spoke until the sun rose higher and the walls beside them were lit pink and red like the dawn itself.

The short man turned toward another of the marchers. What you know about this feller?

He looked at him, then ahead, then back at him, afraid to break silence, but he did.

They say he has done this before. Taken men before. That these men that he took returned rich beyond measure.

Not so, came a voice from behind. I met a man says he rode with him once. Said it was Apache they was after. Said they killed his baby girl and his lady love. Naught left for him but to wander about and kill him some more. Pays handsomely for help doin it.

Nay, it is more. Another voice. The man hears God --God I say --and knows of his will.

The short man waved a dismissing arm. Fools, all of ye. He turned to his tall friend.

What say you?

I say the same of him what of the stars.

Bah.

And yet you walk.

Bah.

The night took longer to come than the one before it. They camped again in the sand and drank hot and muddied water from a rain they couldn't remember that had gathered in huecos in the rocky banks. Sleep came easily to all of them save the short man who could not find it. He rose after some time and quietly walked to where the leader rested. He was not there. He saw movement in the shadows up by the canyon wall and went after them. Keeping his distance, the short man followed the leader up to the rim of the canyon wherefrom he could see the dried up river winding through the moonlit country like the track of some great and penitent serpent slithering through a fruitless land. Nothing to the east or the west or the south. Invisible mountains six days walking to the north. The leader sat down, his legs dangling over the lip of the canyon. The short man stopped behind him.

You have come for answers.

He jumped at the sound.

Come, sit.

The short man came and sat, peering nervously over the edge. It was silent for some time.

All I can tell you is that there is indeed a reason for all this.

He held out a hand either to signify the men sleeping below or all of creation.

Be awful kinda you to let me know what it is.

The leader laughed a warm laugh. That I cannot.

Why in the hell not?

Because I am not certain. That, and because I do not know of any man who, granted knowledge of his future, would choose to willingly walk forth into it.

The short man scratched his head. You gonna pay me aint ye?

Another warm laugh. Yes, of course. Ten days from now we will come across a town. It is a small town, but I have money there. You will be paid in full.

And you ain't gonna tell me what happens tween then and now?

As I said, I am not certain.

Bah.

You are angry.

Yeah.

Tell me, friend, what would you be doing tonight had I not found you as I found you?

I don't know. Same as I was when you found me.

That is the life you want?

That be all the life I got, cousin.

What is the reason for that life?

What's your meanin?

I mean you have asked me why we are here. I am asking you why you were there. What were you moving towards?

I ain't sure. He scoffed. How I could know that?

And yet here I am, telling you that here, now, there is a reason, there is more. Look above you, son. Look at where we are.

The shorter man looked at the stars. His tense face relaxed. His eyes wide. His mouth open.

It might be hard to see the reason, but in ten days time it is my hope that all of you see enough of it to ever carry it with you. The desert has a way of making men see things, within or without. He smiled. And if you look close enough, it makes no difference if it is within or without.

The shorter stared at the dipper long enough to see it turning around the north. What about you? What's your reason for doin this?

Until tonight, I wasn't so sure.

The shorter looked down at him.

He rose to his feet. We are all of us searching, son. He picked up his small pack. The money is here. He pointed at a letter with an adress. The letter will suffice to claim it. He started to walk off.

Where the hell you goin?

There are mountains up north.

Ain't no mountains I can see.

The short man just sat.

Why you doin this? I ain't got a clue how to get where we're goin.

The leader was nearly lost now in the washed out colors of the night. His voice called back.

There's only one way to go, brother, walk it however you like.

S**t. God damn s**t. He looked down at the letter. I'll show that feller some reason. Givin a crook like me a thing like this. Fool. He fell asleep where he sat.

The next morning when he rose, he could see the people below. They were scattered like animals. Some threw fists and bit and kicked. Others began to walk back the way they had come. His tall friend was crouched in the shade. He made his way down into the wash.

Thought you was dead.

Nah.

What you got there?

The short man looked at the letter. He could not read. He heard all around him weeping, cussing, breaking, mourning.

What they all riled up about?

He gone. Guessin they just don't know what to do. Leave a man untended and out come the claws.

And them? He pointed at those mourning.

Thinkin they just now realized they in a dried up riverbed in the desert.

Where they goin? He pointed at those walking away.

Back wherever it is they come from.

S**t.

What?

The short man climbed up onto the rocks on the northern bank and stood. He was marked slowly by those in the wash. The tall man was first. Men pulled those fighting apart and lifted those mourning to their feet and called out to those leaving. The short man scanned the crowd.

S**t, he thought. S**t. He then raised the letter slowly in the air. The letter he couldn't read. All stared silent. After some long moments, he descended back into the wash, packed up his few things and started walking forth with the silent company at his heels. The tall man came up beside him.

What we doin?

Man, we jus walkin. Don't tell them though, or it won't work.

What won't work.

Hush now. Jus don't tell em.

Author's Note

What do you think of the quotation-less dialogue? How was the over all impact of what you read?