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Down in the Dirt v044

Shadowman

Dave Benneman

    Ted pulled off the blacktop surface onto a dirt track. He downshifted to slow the Jeep here - the track was difficult to see in the dark. On the horizon some light was just starting to show. The sun will be here soon he thought to himself. On the northern edge of the Sonoran Dessert the daytime temperature can reach one hundred fifteen degrees on a clear day in August. Ted drove the Jeep Wrangler he always wanted around the scruffy desert growth with care. Maybe someone will find it and take good care of it. He filled it with gas the night before and checked the ten gallon can strapped on the back. He had as much fuel as he could carry. He should get to wherever he was going and still leave a little fuel for the lucky soul who found it abandoned in the desert.

    Ted drove east into the sunrise. The sun was cresting the horizon in all of its unforgiving glory now. The track he had been following disappeared some miles back and Ted picked his way through the desert floor trying to do as little damage as he could to his Jeep and the environment. With the terrain getting increasingly rocky he had to slow down even further. He stopped to take a look around. Walking ten feet away he unzipped his fly and took a leak. When he walked back to the Jeep he grabbed a jug of water and quenched his thirst.
     “This is the perfect metaphor for my life.” He thought. “You pour it in one end and let it out the other; nothing much seems to change in the middle. I’m just going through the motions of living without actually doing it. This day will be like any other, but by tomorrow one thing will change for old Ted.” He caught himself speaking out loud. When he looked around to see if he had been heard he laughed harshly.
    “Well Ted, no one ever heard you before. There’s no chance that’s going to change out here in the middle of east bumfuck. You can talk as much or as little as you like.” Feeling a little silly Ted started the Jeep up and continued driving. His shirt stuck to his body now like a second layer of skin. The early morning temperatures were giving way to the brutal heat of the afternoon. Ted thought he had prepared himself for the trek that lay ahead of him, but you could not second guess nature in this desolate part of the world. Ted had driven the Jeep up into the foothills of a mountain range of which he had forgotten name. When he decided the Jeep had taken him about as far as it could he turned it off and listened to the absolute quiet. The gentle clicking sound of the engine cooling was all he heard. He had an urge to scream. It took real willpower to stop himself from bellowing something stupid. When that passed he reached into the jeep and pulled out his day pack. There was a sleeping bag, two one gallon jugs of water, matches, a bottle of Captain Morgan’s spiced rum, and his Glock. He pushed the hand gun into the waist of his jeans at the small of his back. Ted was comforted, feeling the weight of the hand gun there. It felt like a hand pushing him forward to finish the job he had come here to do. In a panic Ted suddenly pulled the gun from his waist and checked to see if he remembered to load it before he left. A sigh escaped his lips when he saw everything was in order - the magazine was loaded and there was an extra round in the chamber. Shoving the gun back in his waistband he drank what was left of the gallon of water sitting on the passenger seat.
    “That’s more than enough ammo for this job.” He said out loud again. Wiping the sweat from his brow he shouldered the pack and started the climb. The sun was now right overhead and there was very little shade to be found. Ted paused for a drink. Whenever he stopped moving he became aware of the stillness. Man was the only animal stupid enough to travel through this terrain in the heat of the day. Even the scorpions and snakes stayed out of sight when it got this hot. Ted pushed the pack onto his shoulder and continued walking. It’s only two steps he told himself, one, two, one, two, and so on. Ted counted to himself through the worst part of the day. The ball of fire bearing down on him felt like the weight of a hundred lifetimes. He was looking forward to easing his burden. He reached the ridge of this mountain as the shadows started to stretch out in front of him. He plodded on sensing he was a little delirious. He neglected to keep himself properly hydrated even though he knew better. He was only taking a drink when he stumbled, or if he stopped to check his bearings. He didn’t want to be walking in a circle and it was easy enough to do out here. He raised his head to look for his current landmark when his feet slid on some loose rock and he fell on his ass, not as gracefully as he would have liked. The jolt snapped his mouth shut and he bit the inside of his cheek. Sitting there a little dazed he started to giggle. The taste of blood flooded his mouth from the bite and the giggle turned into a belly laugh that shook his whole body. He noticed a large rock sitting on the edge of the incline as though it should be rolling down the side of this mountain any minute. It would be taking no prisoners when it decided to do just that. But right now it was making a small pocket of shade on the downhill side and Ted decided to take advantage of it. Sipping the last of the water from his first jug he tossed it aside and opened the second one. He sat and slowly sipped the hot water in the shade of this benevolent rock.
    When Ted awoke he was surprised to see the sun was on the horizon and sinking fast. He got up with a start but the stiffness in his back and legs put him right back down. Moaning he stretched a little and stood up more slowly this time. He had to get moving.

    He treated himself to a large swallow of water and moved on. The sun and low clouds combined to paint as beautiful a sunset as Ted could remember. When was the last time he actually watched a sunset? He spent his adult life thinking things like this to be frivolous. “It happens everyday, what’s the big deal?” He was fond of saying.
    Approaching a section of flat ground where mesquite trees hovered above scrubby green cloud sage bushes Ted paused. “Promising.” He pointed his boots into the setting sun and counted. “One, two, one, two, it’s just two steps.” The light played with the shadows around the trees. Ted made it a point not to watch his feet as Mother Nature performed act two of her daily theater solely for Ted’s enjoyment.
    The twilight faded as Ted walked into the little oasis. He was able to make out a valley stretching out in front him that took his breath away. This beautiful panorama held his gaze until the light faded to black. Drinking what was left of his water he threw down his pack and started to scavenge around for firewood. With his sleeping bag spread out he sat down for the second time in twelve hours. The fire started to catch and the flames pushed the darkness back a bit. The darkness outside his small circle of light seemed more intense. Ted was completely blind to what lay beyond it. He opened the bottle of rum now and took a hearty swallow.

    “Arrg, now thars a man size swallar of grog. Let’s drink to that matey.” He said in his best pirate voice, throwing the jug up to his lips again, he took another large drink. Removing the Glock from its place in the small of his back, Ted felt the weight and balance of the handgun. It wasn’t a good looking gun. It was downright ugly in fact. He thought he should have bought a piece more suitable for the job at hand, something a little sexier, something with a sense of beauty; and purpose. The man at the gun shop said, the Glock was absolutely reliable. “One hundred percent reliable,” were his exact words. That’s what convinced Ted to purchase this particular hand gun. He knew he only had one chance at this. He would lose his nerve if somehow the gun only clicked when he pulled the trigger. He was, a coward after all. Taking another pull from the bottle he heard a noise. Hastily he stuffed the gun back in his waistband and listened hard.
    “Didn’t mean to startle you there, young fellow. It’s just that I don’t get many visitors out here, if you know what I mean.”
    The voice sounded like gravel sliding down a wooden chute. Ted’s heart raced at the sound when a tall figure stepped into the light being cast by his campfire. Ted shook his head when he realized how close the man must have been when he spoke. How long had he been standing out here watching me Ted wondered?

    “I wouldn’t mind a little sip of that there hooch if you could spare a little. Names Mitch but folks mostly calls me Shadowman these days.” He extended his hand toward Ted.

    “I reckon my manners have slipped some, what with being out here alone most of the time.”
    Ted realized the stranger’s hand was still waiting out there in mid air. He stood and shook the hand that had been offered. It was a solid handshake. Working man’s hand for sure. “Sorry I ah, well I thought you might be an illusion at first. My name is Ted nice to meet you.” Looking around for a seat to offer the man, Ted turned red. “Pull up a piece of desert and help yourself to a drink. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a glass.”
    Mitch squatted down on his haunches. He took up the bottle wiped the top with his dirty shirt sleeve and took a long pull. “That’ll kick your ass when you don’t par-take in the Devil’s brew much. It goes down a little too easy.” Mitch hefted the bottle up and took another long drink. “Here’s to knew friends then.” He passed the bottle over to Ted.
    “To knew friends.” Ted took a short drink this time.

    “Well Ted, folks don’t come out here to make new friends so if I’m wearing out my welcome you just say so.”
    “Well I have to say I certainly didn’t expect to have company tonight.”
    “Don’t imagine you did. It don’t look like you plan on staying long either.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “I don’t want to be rude but you don’t strike me as a guy who can survive long in the desert on your wits and you didn’t bring many provisions - I mean what I’m seeing there. An empty gallon of water, a bottle of hooch, a sleeping bag, and that pea shooter won’t keep you alive very long out here.”
    “Well you’re right Mitch, I wasn’t planning on staying long. Are there any more folks around here? I walked most of the day and didn’t see anything. Then right out of nowhere you walk up like I’m standing in the checkout line in the middle of a Circle K.” Ted said passing the bottle back.
    “I would say you just got lucky, or maybe unlucky depending on your point of view. There isn’t another soul for hundreds of square miles. You know this stuff will kill on an empty stomach.” Ted smiled wryly at this as Mitch took another drink. “I’ve got some beans and coffee on the fire. Why don’t you come over to my place? Whatever it is you are doing out here can wait a couple hours can’t it?” Mitch said passing the bottle back.
    Ted smiled genuinely this time. “This stuff will kill you on a full stomach too, but a dish of beans and some coffee sounds pretty good to me. How far is it? I’m not in much shape for a long trek?” Ted stumbled a little as he stood up again.

    “Just lean on old Mitch there, it’s just up ahead a piece.” Mitch scattered the remains of Ted’s fire in the sand with one foot while steadying Ted. He grabbed the few items Ted brought with him and they walked together into the dark.
    Although Ted was a little unsteady on his feet he wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t recognize Mitch’s camp was in fact very close. Ted wondered what the odds makers in Vegas would make of him walking blindly in the desert for twelve hours and landing on the doorstep of the only living soul for hundreds of square miles. The camp was a simple affair but it was lived in. There were paths worn in the hard pack of the desert surface between the campfire and a small tent. The fire was inside a ring of stones that supported a rusted metal grate. There were pots hanging from wire looped over the low branches of a mesquite tree. Ted watched as Mitch untied a rope that went high into the tree. He lowered a burlap sack. A dented pot missing its handle sat over the fire. The lid which was also dented let a wisp of steam escape from it. The aroma of real cowboy beans that had been cooking all day drifted to Ted and made his stomach growl. On the corner of the grate sat an old fashion coffee pot. It was the kind that would percolate the coffee when you put it on the stove. Mitch poured the dark liquid from the pot into two tin cups.
    “There you go partner, it ain’t Starbucks but it will keep you up until you find one; and grow a little hair on your chest while you’re looking too.” Mitch touched the side of his cup to Ted’s.

    Ted took a small sip of the brew and shuttered. “I’m not sure I can call it coffee but it does chase away the chill.”
    “I learned how to make coffee in the Coast Guard. I worked off the coast of Maine. We mostly rescued fisherman trying to scratch out a living in the cold Atlantic Ocean. That’s why I came out here when I got my pension.” Mitch looked off into the distance. “Too many memories in that ice cold water, thirty foot swells washing over the deck. Me tied off to the railing searching for the over eager crew of fishing trawler bobbing around in another Atlantic storm.”
    “Are you ok Mitch?”
    “Huh, yeah, just reminiscing.”
    “Don’t you miss the sea?”
    “Sometimes I get a little homesick but then I start counting my scars, some of them you can see but, most of them no one can see but me. That’s when I remember why I’m as far away from that she devil as I can get.” Mitch shook his head and dished out beans onto two tin plates with a piece of crusty bread. The plates matched the well used cups.

    Ted accepted his plate and sat down on a large piece of mesquite. Mitch held out a fork, then sat next to Ted on the log. Ted lifted a forkful of beans to his mouth, the steam still rising off them. Now that Mitch was no longer banging around tin plates and cups Ted could hear nothing. The desert was very still. The beans hit the bottom of Ted’s empty stomach with an audible thump, and before he knew what hit him he was using the bread to mop up the liquid left on the plate.
    “I could say you was a might hungry there Teddy.”


    No one ever called Ted “Teddy”. He didn’t like it. It sounded too cute or something. But coming from this tall weathered man with a drawl that must be a montage of accents from the many places Mitch had lived - it didn’t bother him. “I guess I was pretty hungry.”
    Mitch cleared the plates, poured more coffee and topped the cups off with a generous dollop of rum. Sitting back Mitch let out a contented sigh. “Well Teddy this has been a very pleasant evening so far. How’s about I roll us up a couple smokes.” He dug into the pocket of his dusty overalls until he produced a leather pouch.
    “I don’t smoke.”
    “You don’t drink either but I see you’re indulging yourself tonight. You might as well do it up right. This here is the best tobacco you can buy. It’s better than anything you might get in a store bought cigarette.” While Mitch spoke, his nimble fingers rolled two of the smoothest looking smokes Ted had ever seen. They were perfect.
    “How do you know I don’t drink?”
    “You would be surprised at what I know about you my friend. Try one of these. If that don’t make you want to take up smoking again than nothing will.” Ted lit the end of the cigarette with a piece of wood from the fire and inhaled deeply. He lit the end of Mitch’s next. It was a very mellow smoke and he felt a little dizzy after the first taste. It had been many years since Ted smoked. He was surprised he didn’t go into a coughing fit.
    “For an old man I guess it doesn’t get much better than this. My skipper used to say he believed in the teachings of the three Kings. Smoking, drinking, and fucking, two out of three’s not bad. What do you say Teddy?”
    “I guess you’re right there. We shouldn’t be greedy.”
    Refilling the cups with coffee and rum Mitch grinned at Ted. His face was lined with life’s experiences. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

    Ted tilted his head like a dog waiting for a treat. “Talk about what?”
    “Teddy, Teddy, Teddy. Something brought you out here. I came out here to escape from the things I saw on board that Coast Guard cutter. You’re running from something. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so. I can do enough talking for the both of us.”
    “I think it sounds trite when I say it out loud. So I won’t, but you’re right. I’m running from something and I mean to stay ahead of it too.”

    “I knew you were a serious fellow when I first spotted you; but are you sure this is the best answer you can come up with? You seem like a smart guy. Have you thought this through?”
    Ted sat quiet now wishing he hadn’t accepted the invitation to join Mitch for dinner. He drew patterns in the earth with the stick he used to light his smoke earlier. “Maybe I should head out now.”
    “Don’t be so sensitive. You do what you came out here to do. No man can stop you. Surely you can let an old man prattle on for a couple hours first can’t you?”
    “I guess I can do that. How about you roll us another one of those smokes while you’re prattling then.”
    “That a boy. That’s the spirit I was hoping for. Pour us a little more coffee while I whip these together.”
    Ted poured more coffee from a pot he thought should be empty by now. He topped off each cup with more rum. There seemed to be about half the bottle left. Ted thought at the rate they were drinking it the rum should be about gone by now also. Mitch fished out his tobacco pouch and rolled two more perfect smokes. The desert was cooling down so fast Ted shivered when a light breeze stirred. He went over to a large pile of firewood and threw a couple more logs on the fire.
    “That’s a good size pile of wood you’ve got there. It can’t be easy to come by out here.”
    “I’ve got lots of time on my hands Teddy. What about you? Do you think that you’re running out of time? I can tell you, it only seems that way. You have more time than you can imagine. You just need to weather the storm. It’s not easy you know.”
    “What’s not easy?”
    “Life my young friend, life! Folks grow up thinking life gets easier as you get older for some reason. It doesn’t. It keeps getting harder. The older you get the harder it gets. I think that might be by design. It keeps us interested. If things got too easy you might just go off to sleep and not wake up again. No reason to wake up. Nothing new, no challenges, nothing to fix. I think our Maker knows we need a reason to wake up. Maybe that’s what happens when you hear, so and so died peacefully in their sleep. They couldn’t think of a reason to wake up. Did you ever think of it that way? There has to be a reason.”
    “What’s your challenge? What’s the reason you got up today in the middle of nowhere? No one would know if you got up out here or not. No one will know when you don’t get up either. How does that work in your universal picture of how it works?”
    “I think I struck a raw nerve my friend. Maybe the reason I got up this morning was to meet you and keep you company tonight. Maybe I won’t get up tomorrow. Maybe you’re the last reason I have to wake up. If it is, I have to say I’ll be disappointed.” Mitch unrolled the tobacco pouch and started on two more smokes.
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Maybe that didn’t come out just right; but that’s how life is. Things don’t always come out just right. Sometimes your wife files for divorce. Sometime those corporate meetings accomplish nothing but creating work for a guy who already works sixty hours a week. You have to make the best of what you get and keep getting up to see what doesn’t come out right tomorrow. You mind pouring again? My coffee never tasted this good.”
    Ted absently poured more coffee and rum in each of their mugs. The smoke from the fire mingled with the tobacco smoke and drifted lazily into the night sky. The smell mixed with the scents of the sage and creosote bushes. Ted gazed up for the first time that evening and knew he was seeing stars he never saw before. How many times had he been under these very stars and failed to see them. The fire crackled in his ears. When Mitch took a breath Ted felt a little peace pass through him. The old man could talk, that was certain. A smile danced across Ted’s face for an instant.
    “You want to share the joke with me?” Mitch said as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, looking at Ted.
    “I think I’ll keep that one to myself for tonight. Maybe it’ll give you a reason to get up tomorrow.” His smile danced again, this time for a little longer.
    “Never you mind about me getting up tomorrow. What about you? What will get you up tomorrow?
    “I think I might get up to see if you get up. I’ll take it minute by minute after that.”

    “That’s what I’m saying.” Mitch said slapping his meaty hand on Ted’s back. You get up to see if I’m getting up. I’ll get up to check on you and so on and so on. You have to remember though, after you weather this storm, there is another one brewing somewhere. When it crosses your bow it’s going to blow worse than the last one did. That’s ok because you know nothing gets easier. You are a good man and I know you‘ll do the right thing. But it won’t be the last right thing that you have to do. The right thing is never the easy thing. That’s how you can tell what’s right and what’s not.”
    “You don’t exactly predict great weather do you Mitch?”
    “The storms are what we need to keep us waking up. The calm between the storms help us to build the strength to meet the next one.” Mitch yawned and shook out his long grizzled face. “I think I’m going to turn in now. Make yourself at home next to the fire and take care.”
    “Goodnight.” Ted said as he laid down on his sleeping bag next to the fire looking up at the stars. He noticed the Glock was not pressing against his back and he didn’t have the energy to look for it. Sleep took Ted down the way the ocean takes it‘s victims down.
    When Ted awoke the sun was bright in his eyes. He was stiff and a little groggy. “Where am I?” Rolling over he felt the hard surface of the desert. An empty bottle of rum laid on the ground next him. It started to come back to him now. “I walked out here. When, yesterday? How long have I been sleeping? Where’s the old guy?”
    Ted sat up right and looked around. There was nothing. He stood up and recognized the spot where the old man had his camp. The tree he remembered leaning against when he took a leak still stood there. The ashes from a fire were still warm to the touch. But there was no stone ring around it. The tent was gone and nothing hung from the tree. The pile of firewood was gone. Ted sat down now and tried to remember details. He could remember what the old man had said to him word for word - but not what he looked like so much. “Was I dreaming?” He didn’t think so. “This doesn’t make any sense.” He thought about the reason he had come out here in the first place. Where was the Glock? He grabbed his sleeping bag and shook it out. “Not there. What the hell is going on?” He sat down and took some deep breaths to get control. He looked down to his right and scratched in to the hard surface were two words.
    WAKE UP

    Next to the words were several cigarette butts without filters. He picked one up and knew it had been hand rolled. “Shit. If it wasn’t a dream then where was the old philosopher?” He kicked at his daypack. It was heavy. Alarmed he poked at it with a stick. Out tumbled two gallons of cool water and the Glock. It was unloaded and the magazine was empty. The sun was on the western end of its journey getting ready to clock out for the day. Ted decided this would be a good time to head back to find the Jeep. He was awake now. He marveled at the beauty of the sunset as he walked. “That’s two sunsets in a row. How long can I keep the string alive?”
    A voice spoke softly in his head. “As long as you keep waking up Teddy.”



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