Friday, August 3, 2012

Desert Spice, Part 3 of 17

   He promptly broke off each three-inch heel. “With flat shoes you should be able to keep up with me.”
   “Where are we going?” she inquired.
   “Probably nowhere. I wish I could hold out more hope but that would be difficult in this desolate wasteland. Nevertheless, walking is better than waiting to die.”
   For the next two hours they lumbered from one undulating sand dune to another in the blazing sun. Then suddenly Brandon said, “look over there on the horizon, way over there.” 
   “What?” she asked impatiently. “I don’t see anything.”
   “There’s a dark spot right there at two o’clock.”
    “What do you mean at two o’clock? Who are you anyway?”
   “I was a Navy Seal for five years. I left the Navy last winter to pursue a career in medicine. Two o’clock means that if you’re looking at a watch it would be that time,” he stretched out his right arm to show her. “See.”
   “Ok, so you were a military man, are you a doctor now?”
   “Not quite yet.”
   “What were you doing pushing me off the road the way you did?”
   “I didn’t like how you looked at me when you sped past, and I wanted to show you that my Ferrari was faster than your Vet,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s my fault we’re here.”
   “I’ll take that as an apology.” She smiled meekly. “I guess I was going a little too fast, and you were in my way, but that seems so long ago right now. What are you pointing to?”
“It looks like there’s a bush over that way. We may find a little shelter and perhaps water.”
   “Well, I hope we can make it that far before I collapse,” she said, barely able to keep up with him. 

   As they made their way toward what Brandon thought could be a  place to avoid the sun, Alexi couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d left her house that morning. The day before, she had celebrated her twenty-first birthday at home where she still lived with her wealthy parents. They gave her everything she could ever want, but she always resented their parental authority, despite her thousand dollar a week allowance, which according to her rich girlfriends was very little. She had tried to move away from home several times, but her parents refused to pay for an apartment and said they would reduce her allowance by half if she moved out.
   Her father constantly lectured her about her taking responsibility for her actions, such as her speeding tickets, which she paid just in time to avoid jail. And if he wasn’t preaching about being accountable, her mother forever harped on the way she dressed.

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