"I wonder if those things are edible--or store water?" Brion's voice was
a harsh rasp. Lea blinked and squinted at the leathery shape on the
summit of the dune. Plant or animal, it was hard to tell. The size of a
man's head, wrinkled and gray as dried-out leather, knobbed with thick
spikes. Brion pushed it up with his toe and they had a brief glimpse of
a white roundness, like a shiny taproot, going down into the dune. Then
the thing contracted, pulling itself lower into the sand. At the same
instant something thin and sharp lashed out through a fold in the skin,
striking at Brion's boot and withdrawing. There was a scratch on the
hard plastic, beaded with drops of green liquid.
"Probably poison," he said, digging his toe into the sand. "This thing
is too mean to fool with--without a good reason. Let's keep going."
* * * * *
It was before noon when Lea fell down. She really wanted to go on, but
her body wouldn't obey. The thin soles of her shoes were no protection
against the burning sand and her feet were lumps of raw pain. Heat
hammered down, poured up from the sand and swirled her in an oven of
pain. The air she gasped in was molten metal that dried and cracked her
mouth. Each pulse of her heart throbbed blood to the wound in her scalp
until it seemed her skull would burst with the agony. She had stripped
down to the short tunic--in spite of Brion's insistence that she keep
her body protected from the sun--and that clung to her, soaked with
sweat. She tore at it in a desperate effort to breathe. There was no
escape from the unending heat.
Though the baked sand burned torture into her knees and hands she
couldn't rise. It took all her strength not to fall farther. Her eyes
closed and everything swirled in immense circles.
Brion blinking through slitted eyes, saw her go down. He lifted and
carried her again as he had the night before. The hot touch of her body
shocked his bare arms. Her skin was flushed pink. Wiping his palm free
of sweat and sand he touched her skin and felt the ominous hot dryness.
Heat-shock, all the symptoms. Dry, flushed skin, the ragged breathing.
Her temperature rising quickly as her body stopped fighting the heat and
succumbed.
There was nothing he could do here to protect her from the heat. He
measured a tiny portion of the remaining water into her mouth and she
swallowed convulsively. The thinnest of the clothing protected her
slight body from the direct rays of the sun. After that he could only
take her in his arms and keep on toward the horizon. An outcropping of
rock there threw a tiny patch of shade and he walked toward it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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