Story: No Rest

[rakkit]

Run on for a long time,

Sooner or later God’ll cut you down.

—Johnny Cash

 

“I heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don’t really care for music…do you?”

            The music forced itself through the crackle of the radio, playing to the fine beat of fuzz and static. The man paid no attention, the music barely audible, more of a backdrop to his own thoughts.

            He had no idea what dusty road he’d turned onto three hours before, but it crossed the Sonoran desert. He drummed a tuneless beat on his steering wheel, wondering whether he was being followed or if they’d noticed the dusty trail his car had left behind when he’d turned into the unforgiving landscape.

            For a desert, life seemed to flourish. Each edge of the road was covered with stunted, brown growth. Beautiful in a sad way, all the colors were earthy, bleached almost beige by the sun. Every so often a cactus as tall as two of him broke the pattern of short, harsh plants, acting as sentinels and thieves of nourishment. Their arms were like steeples to a church, reaching praise to the desert god for what water and nutrients they had stored away from the last rainy season while the others around them wilted beneath their selfish glory.

            A quick glance at his gas tank told him he was only a half tank gone. As long as he reached the next town within four hours, he’d be fine. He would get gas before trying to cross another state’s border…if he put a couple of hundred miles between him and the reservation, he’d be in no danger. They would stop looking for him then—they had better things to do. There was no one outside of the desert that would even care.

He smiled to himself at that thought, allowing a small glimpse into the memories...of sweet tea and AC in a small trailer…until movement along the edge of the road caught his eye. A spot, shimmering in the heat, had appeared against the backdrop of the pitiless environment. It moved slowly, sinuously, like a sidewinder.

            As his car drew closer, the shimmering spot morphed into a figure. The figure paused at the rumbling roar of his engine, turning around and raising a hand to shield her eyes.

            “Mind giving me a ride?”

            At first he didn’t say anything, sure she was nothing more than a mirage. White dress fluffed and clung to her, her darkened face had smudges of dirt and sand. Her pink lips were cracked and sandpapered, but her large dark eyes were alert and hungry. Hungry for what he was unsure of, but they seem to draw him in. The way her black hair waved about, wrapping around her small shoulders, coming to rest against her brown chest and slim waist…

            “Where you headed?” His voice seemed odd in his ears. He hadn’t spoken aloud since leaving three hours before. To break his self imposed silence seemed almost a sin.

            She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, does it?” She smiled and despite the deep cracks that decorated the corners of her lips, she managed a smirk. “I’m sure it’s your direction, though.”

 The man didn’t say anything else as he reached over and opened the passenger door. She crossed the front of his car and he noticed the hem of her knee length dress was shredded and worn and streaks of dirt marred the innocence of the color. When she got in, she brought the smell of the desert with her.  Arid, cruel, with the hint of fictional flowers.

Silence followed and the man watched her out of the corner of his eye. She’d rolled the window down all the way, hanging a delicate hand out into the burning hot wind that provided little comfort in the stifling car. After a while, he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry the AC don’t work,” he said. He shivered as she looked over at him with wide eyes. They seemed permanently stuck in a pained expression, wide and fearful. He didn’t understand why her expression unsettled him so much—had he seen it before? Echoes on the edge of his memory…he shook his head.

An otherworldly strength rested in her. There was something about the silence, the stillness of her body, that reminded him of a lithe predator at rest. A desert puma that regarded him with a feral intention.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said. “I’m used to heat.” She smiled at some inward joke. He couldn’t help but notice the fine tremble in her hands—the dry, cracked knuckles. “I can tell you’re not from around here. Strange to see you in the desert.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t a trip I really planned ahead of time.”

“Odd how that can happen.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he looked away and back toward the straight road. As far as his eyes could see were still the only stunted desert growth with the cactus sentinels. No signs of conscious life, animal or otherwise, betrayed the deathly silence of the desert.

“What are you running from?”

Her question startled him. For a moment, his heart quickened but reason calmed him down. She wouldn’t be looking for him—how could she know if she’d been walking in the confines of the desert? “What would make you think I’m runnin’?”

“That’s the desert’s way,” she replied. “It calls to those with a dark past. We find comfort in its hot embrace.” She traced her shoulder line as she spoke, not taking her eyes from him. He fought to keep his emotions in control. “The desert understands us better than any god could.”

He cleared his voice. “What about you? What are you running from?”

A shadow crossed her features. Beneath the frailty, he caught glimpses of something more, a wider glance of the ethereal expression in her eyes. In that instance there was power, pain and anger, but it was gone as quickly as he saw it. “A cruelty unspeakable,” she whispered.

He refused to allow himself to wander about the absurdity of the conversation with the woman. He refused to think of what he was running from, of what he was capable of, almost afraid that she would be able to read his thoughts and fantasies. Again, the sweet memories of tea, music, pleasure…power…“How long have you been walking?” he asked instead. “I’ve been driving for hours, and there hasn’t been anything for miles.”

She didn’t answer his question, returning her attention to the passing scenery out of her window. Almost glad of the silence that had returned, the man looked at the road, stealing glances at the stranger beside him. Her bodice rose slowly with her breath, the white lace fluttering open from the wind. The dress had ridden up her thigh, coming to rest in her lap. After a moment, she closed her eyes. He continued to watch her as he drove and marveled at how easily her breath flowed from her, the impressive chest that rose and fell. The grip on the steering wheel tightened and he licked his dry lips. She was beautiful…and he wanted her. He could feel lust stirring, a desire that was familiar to him. Already, he began to plan, imagining how she would feel, how soft her skin must be beneath the white dress…

He paid no attention to the passing environment or to the time and he failed to see the sun begin to set across the green mountains. Only when the silhouette of twilight began to darken the girl’s skin did he realize that the day was coming to an end.

He rubbed a hand across his face. So much for what the map said about the time it took to cross the desert. Will I ever reach the end of this God-forsaken hell? he thought.

“And she said, “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device. And in the master’s chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast.”

“Interesting song.”

He jumped, cursing as she spoke. He hadn’t been paying attention, instead choosing to fantasize. “It’s the only radio station I can get.” He tried not to sound irritated that she was awake. “I thought you were asleep.”

She gave him that eerie smile that told him nothing but promised everything. “No rest for what we are.”

At first he didn’t hear what she said. “What do you mean, no rest?”

She put a hand on his thigh, biting her lip. “Why would we need rest, when the desert has chosen us?” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “In the echoes of sand and sun, we are only bleached bones.”

His heart quickened, not sure what to make of what she was saying. “Who are you?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter?” Her hand trailed up his leg, fingertips playing circles. “You rarely know their names. You didn’t know her name…I doubt it would make a difference if you knew mine.”

“Look…” he stopped, swallowing past the heart in his throat. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but…”

She put a fingertip to his lips. Her skin was rough, as gritty as the sand that lined the straight road. She nodded her head. “You see the building…up ahead?”

His gaze followed her directions and he could see the ancient building that backed the sun set, a dark blot that was two stories with a half-missing steeple. “What the hell?”

“Take me home,” she whispered. The fingertips that played against his skin had traveled upward once more, and her movements had quickened. Each fingertip, each breath of caress, sent another shiver through him. He followed her command and pulled up to the building. On closer inspection, he could see remnants of broken stain glass windows. Near the edge of the rotted porch rested a half covered iron bell that had once belonged to the broken steeple.

“Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.”

He turned the car off so that he wouldn’t have to hear the song playing and asked, “What are we doing here?” She didn’t answer him as she stared past him and to the imposing, dilapidated building. Her eyes were almost closed, her lips half parted. She seemed to be listening to something, but he didn’t hear anything.

“What are you running from…John?” Her eyes opened, and again he was caught by the frantic expression. Hungry and pained and powerful. In her eyes, he saw the cruelty of the desert. “Why was I called to you?”
            He couldn’t move, captivated by the beauty of the woman beside him. Her eyes never left his as she smiled and she reached down to the handle of the car seat. There was nothing he could do as she let it down with a muffled thump. He lay against the seat and heard rustling as she climbed over her seat and straddled him.

“What are…” His words cut off as she kissed him. Her lips scratched against him and her mouth was dry.

“I know no rest,” she whispered into his ear as she bit it. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and she pressed her hands to his chest before sliding down to the buckle of his belt.

“Stop…”

She ignored his whispered plea as if he hadn’t spoken and he was acutely aware of everything happening. Of how her body felt brittle and dried, of how whenever her skin touched his there was a scraping sound, like the rattle of a snake’s tail. Still she continued to kiss him, and he found himself unable to move, unable to struggle against her. There was nothing except the feeling of her body against his, no movement except what she allowed as she moved above him and caressed him.

In the silence of panting breaths and rattling sighs, a bell began to toll.

“Please…” he whispered as tears squeeze from his eyes. They ran down his face, catching her cheek where she was pressed against him. He watched her skin split as the water touched. Cracks lined her cheeks and for the first time he could see the skull beneath the stretched skin. He could see the power in the entity that held him in a tight embrace, who was connected to him in the most primordial way.

            She leaned up and his body quivered beneath her. Her head grazed the roof of the car, and she seemed impossibly tall as she removed the tattered remains of her dress. Her eyes glowed in the violet and magenta sunset. That was all he saw before she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Did you heed her begging? In all of this, you thought you could run. You tried to escape your sins, but her soul cries for retribution.”

            “I’m sorry…”

            Only a laugh answered his apology. She kissed his neck and followed his jaw line until she found his lips. Her body moved along with her kiss and he coughed, feeling the sand run down his throat. He gagged, trying to move his head away.

            Once more the broken bell tolled. She continued to move above him, sending mixed sensations of pain, shame and pleasure. Tears streaked his cheeks, smearing on her face and bare chest that lay against him. Each droplet opened wide wounds where he could see dried sinew and bleached bones beneath.

Each kiss, every intimate touch, filled his lungs with sand. He could feel his body begin to dry, scraping against hers before shedding away like snake’s skin.

“The desert has claimed you,” she said, her voice breathless and triumphant. “Now you will know no rest. Forever you will suffer in her name.”

In her final caress and frantic sigh, his lungs filled with the acrid musk of the desert and sand.

Sweet memories…her face, monstrously beautiful and sad, laying against the blood stained sheets of a pink and green bedroom was the last thing he saw before his lungs gave out and the stranger laughed.

***

            Alera watched her partner Ahote tapped the window of the beat up rental car with the butt of his baton. “Police, open your car door slowly and get on your knees!”

            “What’s going on?” she asked as she got out of the police car.

            “Radio an ambulance,” he said for his response. He drew his gun as he made his way to the front of the car. There was still no movement in the cab, and the man stared ahead. She watched him as she radioed in the request for backup and help. Ahote made his way back to the driver side and tried to open the car door. At first it didn’t budge though it was unlocked. He had to strain before the door gave and swung open. He gagged, covering his mouth and staggering away.

            “Ahote, what is it?” Alera walked up and paused at the sight of the man. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. A hand clutched at the charm that hung around her neck.

            “John Ramirez,” Ahote managed to say. He grabbed her shoulder and made her back away.

“Ramirez?” Her eyes narrowed.

He gave a curt nod. “He tried to make an escape into the desert.”

            Alera glanced at the car that had crashed into a ditch at the desert line. “Looks like he didn’t make it.” She frowned and fingered the protective charm the medicine woman had made her. Was it her, or had it grown hotter in the desert sun? She could feel the restless energy in the air, almost as if she could hear the torments and screams that never rested. “Ahote, that wreck wasn’t bad. Why didn’t he just get up and walk away?”

            He shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like he’s been dead for weeks…”

            She shook her head again. “But, it was only yesterday he ran from Nakota’s trailer.”

“I don’t understand it.” He shook his head and kicked a stray stone. “It just don’t make sense.”

Alera took her hat off her head and fanned her face for a moment. “Nahimana told us to come looking out here. The old woman knew what we would find.”

Ahote put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t start this again.”

She shrugged away from his touch and crossed her arms. “Didn’t I tell you Nakota’s mother wouldn’t let him leave the reservation? Didn’t I tell you that the medicine woman had powers? She sent the Chindi.”

            “Don’t be superstitious,” Ahote dismissed.

“Nakota used to tell me stories of it when I was little. She said that God had given her mother control over the desert to protect our people.”

“Alera, stop being silly. The Chindi are stories used to scare children.” Still, Alera could tell that her words had unsettled him. He put a hand on the small of her back and led her to the police car. This time she didn’t try to back out of his touch. “We shouldn’t mess with anything until the ambulance comes. The coroner will be able to tell us what happened.”

            Alera didn’t respond as she looked away and into the desert. She leaned against the humming police car and frowned. He knew the Chindi were merely stories…didn’t she?

She almost imagined he could see a woman walking along the edge of the road, barefoot and patient…perhaps carrying John’s soul to the abandoned church where he would share her fate. The desert would not offer either of them any rest.

 In the back ground, Aerosmith’s Dream On played on the classic rock station.

            “Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away.”