Desert Rat

Heading west, chased by the sun, regret and the blare of sirens. Need to make it to the Magic Man but gotta lose the fireworks first. You always said trouble followed me. Now you’re on the back of this bike with a grip that is beginning to slip. I can feel my t-shirt sticking to my back. I wish it were sweat. I'm just gonna pretend its sweat. Hold on. I just gotta lose this tail. The Magic Man's not going to do ya any good if you're behind bars and he certainly isn't going to look too kindly on our present company.

You always said trouble followed me so why did you tag along. You were so kind, gentle, and innocent, so chivalrous, thinking I needed protecting. Now it's you that needs protecting. It should've been simple. Get in, get the info I needed and then get out. What did you expect tagging along? Damn you, damn this traffic. Gotta get to the desert, to the Magic Man and get you fixed up. Almost there just hold on. There's the highway we're good now. Your arms are slipping. We're almost there. I’m going as fast as I can. The wind tears at my clothes, forcing tears from my eyes and cooling my blood soaked shirt.  I need to go faster, but you’re slipping. I feel helpless, alone. The desert highway gives me an uneasy feeling. Straight ahead is the moon trying to hold on for a few more minutes of glory. I glance in my side mirror and can see the threatening sun behind the mountains, ready to outshine the moon and stars and bring light to the mess I’ve made.  I haven’t seen a single soul since we hit the highway. If we crashed right here there would be no one to mourn us but the heavens above. Damn, why the hell did I let you come? Was I trying to scare you away, get rid of you? Well, it sure worked. I figured if you really knew what kinda trouble I was messed up in, you'd leave and never turn back. Instead, you try to save me. Well, who the hell needs saving now.

The sky is beautiful in the desert, filled with stars for as far as you can see. There is a lone red star below the moon. They say if you follow it, you will find the Magic Man. They say the Magic Man can cure all wounds even the ones that run deep in the soul. He found me when I was eight, used up and left to die at the bottom of an abandoned well. Magic Man found me and worked his magic. I'm 25 now and I've been trying to open the wounds he healed ever since.

There it is. The run down little shack Magic Man calls home. The bike skids to a stop and we both crash to the ground in a heavy cloud of dust that sticks to my tear streaked face. These tears aren’t forced; these are tears of desperation, of a broken heart. Tears of a soul feeling the icy hand of fate snatch away its second chance. I can't ever remember crying. Not once. Not when that rattler bit me at age ten or when that bully, my first and last boyfriend,  kicked in my teeth at a very old age twelve. Now in the desert, covered in a man's blood that only a few weeks ago I would have killed without thinking, I'm crying. I choke on the dust and struggle against the weight of the bike and Sam’s body.

I look to my right and see a set of long skinny toes starring me in the face. That's him all right, the Magic Man. No one can forget those toes. I’ve never seen such long and skinny toes in my life. A familiar calm surrounds me and I chuckle thinking back to how I would torment those toes with tickles for hours as a kid. Magic Man crouches down and looks at me with steely blue eyes. Those eyes that cut like ice, chill your soul, a stare that forces you to confess. Trouble always seemed to seek me out in the desert. I knew he'd look at me with those eyes and I'd be in the back diggin fighting holes as punishment for whatever little girl evil I had cooked up. He's just the same as I remembered. Time had left his mark, but there was the same long matted hair, maybe a little grayer than before, same eyes peering out of weathered thick skin, same ragged thrift store shirt and snug blue jeans full of holes and stains.

"Mag. Help him. Please." Magic Man lifts Sam's body and tosses it on his shoulders in a firefighter’s carry. Sam’s blood leaves odd patterns on Magic Man’s shirt, like a series of Rorschach tests. I pull my leg loose from the bike and start limping after them. I pause at the door to look up at the sky and the dust slowly drifting to the heavens. I make a wish and hope that the dust will take that wish on its journey. Forgotten in the dirt lays the bike Sam built me. A wonderful cafe racer, “raw like me”, he said when he gave it to me as a birthday gift. It wasn't even my birthday, hell I don't even know when my birthday is. I squeeze my eyes shut as if I could chase away the memory. Gently I close the door and whisper to Magic Man. "Just fix him, Mag. I can't walk away from this one."

I wake up to the glare of the noonday sun. God it's hot. I lift my body from the dirt floor and stumble to the bathroom. I stare at the face in the mirror, covered in dirt with dark streaks of tears. A little warm water clears the dirt and I look once again at the face in the mirror. For as long as I can remember, I've never recognized the face in the mirror. Sometimes I wonder if it really is a mirror, maybe just a window. The girl in the glass lets a crooked smile escape her lips. "Sam" she whispers and shoots me back to reality.

My head pounds with every beat of my heart and drowns out all sound even my own voice. I feel as if I'm floating as I look around the empty shack.

"Sam? Sam!” I don’t ever remember being scared like this.
"Out here Beatty." Sam's chirper voice doesn't calm me. Desperation takes over and I crash out the door. Please let this be real, not a dream. There he is, looking like a train wreck victim, but alive and smiling, sitting calmly by Magic Man who is meditating. I plop down between the two, throw my arms around their shoulders, and take a deep cleansing breath.

"Damn, Mag, don't ya have any clean clothes here?"
Magic Man shrugs his shoulders, grabs his bag, hat, and barefoot sets out to the nearest town.
"Aren't you going to at least change your shirt?" I shout after him, but when I look up he's already gone only a dust devil stands where he was.
"Sam?"
"Yeah Beatty"
"If it's alright with you I think we'll just stay here a while, OK?"
"OK"
There is a long comfortable silence as we stare up at the empty sky. I run my fingers across his chest feeling for some proof that last night wasn’t just a horrible nightmare. Of course there is nothing, Magic Man worked his voodoo.
"Beatty?"

"Hm?"
"Just who the hell are you, Beatty?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Reviews

[BeanHead:)]

"a few weeks ago I would have killed without thinking, I'm crying." maybe add the word "now" because it doesnt really make sense like that and also your beginning "Heading west, chased by the sun, regret and the blare of sirens. Need to make it to the Magic Man but gotta lose the fireworks first." well i dont really get it. but i think that you should try to structure your sentences a bit better! as it was said before, this is a very engaging story and i would've liked it better if you made a more tribal name for this magic man. great job though and very original story!

[JulieZee]

The name Magic Man will be revealed later in the story.

The short choppy sentences are her paniced thoughts in her head. How would I convey that so the reader gets it?

[Arctic Fox]

All right. I've read it and I'm annoyed. You leave me with too many questions. I don't have this girl's past, her screw up, who she is, what she does, or what will happen next. I will give it agood rating, because what you did give was engaging, but I want more. Hate to seem like I'm selfish, but I hate not knowing things.