Dorado Chapters I & II

First two chapters (1.5 really) of a crime novella I've started. Mostly just working on building the characters and relationship right now, but welcome all thoughts.

I.

Somewhere near Yuma, we run out of gas. I’ve seen movies where people run out of gas in the desert, 60 miles in either direction from the closest filling station. It usually happens just before someone dies. Maybe they’re raped and killed by a pervy trucker, or dismembered by an inbred family living in the hills. Or maybe it’s not even that glamorous. Maybe it’s just the heat that gets them. The how tends to vary, but the what is constant.

We aren’t quite that isolated, maybe a half hour hike to the closest stop. So we probably won’t die, I figure. We might lose a finger, or an eye. Worst case a whole hand. But surely we can fend off even the most deranged of attackers for a few miles.

Still…

“What do you mean we’re out of gas?”

“I mean we’re out of gas,” Nase replies, without irony.

“I know what you said. How did we run out of gas?”

“Well, we had some gas, and then we used it all.”

“We just passed a gas station!”

“I feel like we’re saying the word gas a lot.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE WE’RE OUT OF IT.”

Looking at the stretch of highway behind us, I can see the heat rising off of the pavement in little squiggly lines, like we’re in a Road Runner cartoon or something. If we are, I think, we’re definitely the coyote.

“So, should we draw straws to see who walks to the station?”

“Straws?”

“Or rock, paper, scissors. I’m not picky.”

“You were driving!”

“And?”

“For six hours!”

“I really don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“YOU DIDN’T REALIZE WE WERE RUNNING LOW ON GAS FOR SIX HOURS.”

“And you didn’t offer to drive that whole time, did you? Did you ever think maybe I didn’t notice because I was tired from driving so much?”

“YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO.”

“And kids want to eat ice cream for dinner. Wanting something doesn’t make it good for you. I feel like you should know this, Lew. You’re a parent, for chris’sake.”

I decide I’ll walk to the station, if for no other reason than I don’t trust Nase to come back with what we need. Two hours would go by, and he’d show back up wearing that s**t-eating grin of his, holding a pound of jerky in one hand and a half-dozen scratch offs in the other. “What’s wrong,” he’d ask, genuinely unaware why I suddenly have a bulging vein in the center of my forehead.

As I walk, I pass the time by thinking about how many bodies must be buried in the desert around me. First were the Native Americans who originally settled the land. They chose this spot because it was on the Colorado river, and the ground was fertile. Unfortunately, it was also the narrowest part of the river, which made it the ideal crossing spot for the white man in his great march westward. White men, of course, have historically never been great at “just passing through.” So instead they opted to claim everything they saw, and with great bloodshed.

Next came the Mexican-American War, which was started when America “annexed” Texas in 1845. Annex technically means to append, or add, or something like that, but as far as I can tell it’s just a fancier way to say white men again saw something they wanted, and took it.

A few years after that was the Civil War. This time, the thing the white men wanted to own wasn’t a thing at all, but people. And even though it started a long way away, still more bodies found their way into the dirt beneath my feet. For every step, a ghost, belonging to someone who died for the greed of someone else.

There are less new bodies now. The occasional meth deal gone wrong, or gangland murder. It’s the desert, after all, and deserts will always be good for making problems like these disappear. But no mob boss or drug dealer will ever be as ruthless as the first one was. The white man, who came with nothing and left with everything.

I make it back to Nase shortly before dusk. “Saw a couple of armadillos f*****g,” he reports from beneath his cap, which is pulled down over his eyes, giving the appearance that he might be sleeping. “Or fighting maybe. I don’t know. Oh, and an actual tumbleweed crossed the road. A tumbleweed, man. Where the f**k are we?”

Soon, we’re back on our way. The sun is down and we’ve still got a few hours to go until Sonoyta. But that’s ok; nighttime provides better cover anyway.

II.

The ride to Sonoyta is almost serene. In the desert, without the smog and commotion of the city, without the lights and sounds of a million lives being lived on top of each other all at once, the stars come out of hiding. They litter the night sky, twinkling specks of sand on an infinite, celestial beach. Out here, a person could feel like they see the whole universe, like they fit in with it somehow, maybe even understand it a little.

Then Nase wakes up.

He lights a cigarette, surveying the sky through half-closed eyes and says, “you know most of those stars are probably dead?”

His words cut through my fleeting tranquility like a knife. “You can find a way to be morbid about anything, can’t you,” I say, feeling attacked.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Over some stars?”

I keep my eyes on the road and say nothing. Any reaction at all, good or bad, will only encourage him.

“Whatever,” he continues, “it’s true. A lot of them are hundreds of thousands of light years away. The light you’re seeing right now has probably been traveling here since before humans existed. Some of it, at least. Whole solar systems, galaxies even, have been born and died in the length of time it took that light to get here.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I read it.”

“You read it?”

“Yes.”

“You did?”

“I read sometimes, Lew. Is that so surprising?”

“I mean, kind of.”

Nase side-eyes me for a moment and takes a drag of his cigarette. Then he turns his gaze back to the heavens. “Anyway, I don’t think it’s morbid at all. I think it’s beautiful”

“How do you mean?”

“Look at any star in the sky, and you’re basically looking back in time. A hundred years, a thousand, a hundred thousand. All the way back to the beginning. Each and every beam of light has crossed vast oceans of space and time to get here, to this exact moment, never flinching, never failing, even in death. They’re the strings that connect the universe. Isn’t that better than some twinkly lights?”

I sit in silence for a few seconds digesting his words. I decide he’s right, that it is better, and it dawns on me that this must be the first time I’ve ever been glad Nase opened his mouth.

“So, it was like an article in Playboy or something, right?”

“F**k off, dude.”

Reviews

[Fae West]

Ok so I'm new here so bear with me if this is TMI. Do these reviews get posted or do only you see them?

I like the dialog but a couple of tags, (Nase said, Lew said,) would help early on to identify the characters. A tiny sliver of description to indicate either age gender (or lack thereof) might be nice. Mention college or the rest home, or the age of Lew's kids. Rubbed a hand across the three day stubble on my chin. Checked my makeup before getting out. Got to look nice for all those murderers who might drive by looking for a digit or two to add to their trophy collection. The names are ambiguous at least to me. A little mystery is fine but that mostly works when there is urgent action going on when you introduce your main character.

Love the thoughts on the history of the scenery as a way to describe it. Of course it does go on a just a shade too long.

I enjoy the banter but a tiny hint about the purpose of the journey would be nice, even if it's a teaser. They've been driving 6 hours. All in the desert? Not everyone knows geography based on place names. Well prepared or mad dash out of town? Any luggage? any water? . Are they ever going back? Happy trip, business trip, tense escape turned boring?

Overall i like the style and I'm itching for a reason to like the characters especially the POV Lew. I like that it settles firmly into first person POV in the second chapter. Is there anymore that answers some of my questions?