[stylist] Blown towards nature

[Pranav Lal]

Hi all,

Here is a story I wrote. Feedback is welcome. What would be some markets
that I could try to send this story to?
 
Blown towards nature

Few things could've roused me out of bed on that freezing winter night.  One
of them was a full bladder.  It refused to be ignored.  I'd 
Slept fully dressed, so I fastened my boots, unclipped my cane from my belt
and stepped out of my tent. Nothing stirred as I made my way across to the
improvised latrine we had set up.  

After having satisfied the demands of my bladder, I took a moment to 
Open my senses to my surroundings. My watch told me it was two a.m.
The air around me felt very, very cold, but I wasn't affected because I wore
several layers of warm clothing.  I wasn't particularly sleepy, nor was I
hungry, but all the same, the idea of stealing a cookie from Jake's tent
became overwhelmingly appealing.

Jake Trent was one of the nicest people I had ever met. I had trekked with
him before. He could charm perfect strangers. In addition, all animals,
irrespective of family, genus or species, flocked to him. His skills
included charming mosquitoes, bees, deer and an anteater.

On this trip, Jake had accumulated his usual menagerie. This time, bees and
wasps filled Jake's specimen jars.  We had crossed an oasis during the
afternoon. There were no people despite it being a popular camp site but it
was tenanted by a large number of bees, wasps and other insects. The trees
were covered in hives. The insects had swarmed around Jake and they had been
wounded and had been flying very slowly for a reason that none of us could
fathom. This accounted for us not being stung during the crossing. Besides,
ever since I was a child, I have always been able to sense the malignant
presence of bees and wasps.  I'd always run away from them and had come
through unscathed which is what I did when we reached the oasis.
  Major Houseman, retired, the camp leader had given us a break from hard
trekking to allow Jake time to put those insects in his jars. Never mind the
publication schedule of the Universal Photographer magazine. We were a group
of nature enthusiasts on contract with the Universal Photographer to film
the desert. Along the way, a few scientists and environmentalists had been
added to the group.

I must've been three-fourths of the way across to Jake's tent when my cane
 Clanged into an object.  I stood still. I held my breath, waiting for the
rest of the camp to wake up to investigate. Nothing happened.  

Exhaling, I smiled at the way my pent breath plumed in the cold night air.
 Just as I was congratulating myself and anticipating that first bite of
pilfered cookie, I heard another sound. I knew what it was: the sound of a
jar colliding with packed earth. I heard the ominous drone characteristic of
some members of the family Hymenoptera.  

Now, I was furious with Jake. Why did he have to place his animals in such
an unsecure manner? 

 I followed my cane to the object and realized that it was the tool rack. We
had hung our tools such as axes, knives and some collecting jars on it.
Major Houseman liked to keep an eye on those tools. He believed that we were
better off only with cameras and should always use sharp tools under the
supervision of an "expert." I seized my cane, scrabbled in the dirt and
grabbed the first thing that came to hand and ran towards Jake's tent.
  I could have killed him then for bringing the bees to the camp.  He had
strenuously voted down my suggestion of keeping the jars on a nearby rock.
Other members of the expedition had been nervous but none more than I.Didn't
he realize that all of us could be stung and probably killed? How could he
know that one of us would not have a histamine reaction? Alternatively, what
about that phenomenal at the oasis? Would we all have cracked lips by the
morning, paralyzed limbs and need rescuing?

The noise grew louder as I approached his tent.  My fear won over my anger,
and I stopped short, spun on my heel, and ran in the other direction.
Remembering what I had read about beelines, that is, bees at least (I didn't
know about wasps), always flew in a straight line, I zigzagged in the hope
of throwing off my pursuers.  The hum was now behind me. No one else woke.
We had been too tired and the night caps by the fire were not calculated to
induce a state of alertness. I continued to run, focused on keeping up my
zigzag pattern/ I never saw the outcropping of rocks, until it was too late.
I slipped and stumbled. Disoriented, I had no sense of direction.  

My fear escalated! I chose any direction that would get me away from the
horrid noise.  I'm not sure how long I ran or how far, but I know that I was
brought to a jarring stop when I tripped over a loose pebble and fell flat
on my face.

My forehead hit a stone, tearing the skin and drawing blood. 
  As I lay there, I realized that that dreaded sound had stopped.  Now that
I thought about it, it had been silent for quite some time.

However, now I was completely lost.
  I staggered to my feet and felt around the rocks to find a place to sit. 
 I eventually located an indentation between two large rocks.  I moved my
gloved fingers between the two rocks and tested the earth with my cane. I
sat and thought,  

Yes, someone will come looking for me. 
 I couldn't have run far. 

My pep-talk did little to bolster my confidence in being found in a timely
manner. The land was strewn with rocks of all shapes and sizes.  I could be
hidden among some of them and no one would find me.

I cursed the major. I cursed myself. I cursed Mother Nature.  I wanted to
scream. All of which was pointless. I had to just sit and wait things out.
There was no way of retracing my steps and I had not kept track of any
landmarks. I had my cane and an axe but where could I go and what could I
do?
I felt around in my pockets to see if there was anything with which I could
while away the time.  The first thing my hand encountered was the GPS
receiver my parents had given me on my last birthday. To my utter relief, it
was intact. However, the device was only a receiver. No display and no map
functionality. I used to use it with my cellular phone which was back at the
camp.   Major Houseman had gleefully pointed out that cell phones would be
of no use on such a trek. He believed that Mother Nature would tell what you
needed to know. Old habits die hard and I had still carried it in my pocket.


I had been using the phone with myself programmed GPS application to plot
our route. The major had been rather against this use of technology.
  He had continued to urge me to listen to the land and get a feel for
nature.  He had watched me like a hawk for most of the trek. I couldn't do
too much with my cell phone.  The major, however, was human, and he had
other tasks to take care of, as he led our group deeper into the desert.  I
had taken shameless advantage of his occasional distractions and stealthily
accessed my phone in spurts. However, that was unimportant. The only other
item of interest was a mini USB cable. Fat lot of good that would do me in
the desert.

The wind was picking up and I knew it was the precursor to a storm.
Moreover, I vaguely heard the howl of a dog. I remembered what an ex-army
friend had told me about such animals.  Desert dogs are wild. Due to extreme
competition, they eat first and then look for the next meal. Forget about
being acquainted. The howl was repeated. The echoes were fading but I was
taking no chances.   I took up the axe in my left hand and the cane in my
right,
 Turned in the most likely direction I thought I should go, and began to
walk. I had no guide. The cane helped me to avoid obstacles but it would not
tell me where the camp was. 

Reconstructing my trail was a hopeless task, but I tried all the same. I
remembered reading an article in the new scientist magazine about how people
would eventually walk in a circle if they had no reference point since their
left legs were longer than their right. The same could happen to me. I had
no food or water.    I must have walked for about five minutes when a
powerful gust of wind hit me and set my eyes watering thanks to the dust it
carried with it. The storm had come.

I was the plaything of the wind. I was blown along. I was just able to keep
the sand from my mouth and throat. There was no shelter. Luckily, the 0
visibility did not bother me but the sand in my ears did.

The wind dropped and I rolled over and lay where I fell. The heat awakened
me many hours later. I was parched. My stomach felt empty and I had grit all
over me. I had read about inhabitants of the desert having a sand bath. If
this was how they felt, I would be happy with the conventional water bath. I
was furious again with the Major. If I had my phone now, I could have used
GPS. However, dwelling on this was wasting time and energy. I knew we had
travelled east for the last mile before reaching our current campsite since
the sun had been behind me so I began to walk in that direction. I kept the
cane in front of me but narrowed its arc since there was nothing. Time past.
I had no distractions and was acutely aware of desert sounds. Those dogs
would have to drink from somewhere. At this thought, the adrenalin came back
up but all I could here was the sound of sand. My cane stuck and I collided
with something sharp. What Luck, I had hit a cactus. It felt spongy and I
hoped that it was the Barrel Cactus. The axe was indispensable now. I
attacked the cactus with vigor and ripped into the stem in a shower of
needles. Yes, there was the pulp. I licked it greedily. It moistened my
tongue but like an appetizer, it left me wanting more. I scrabbled about and
collected some needles to use as weapons. This was an illusion since the
biggest predator was my own mind but every little helped. I could not give
up.

I set out in a straight line from the Cactus. At noon, I collapsed under a
bit of rock and slept. The early evening chill awoke me. The silence was
complete. No twigs, no leaves nothing. Something could be stocking me and I
would not know. I sat up and waited. Nothing happened. I groped around and
could feel many plants. We had crossed patches of scrub during our trek to
the oasis but which patch was I at? I did not know what lay beyond the oasis
so I could have left the camp behind. I thought about shouting for help but
that was no good. What would I attract? In any case, my fellow campers knew
I could not see so they would call out or were they expecting me to call and
keeping quiet to hear me better? I got up and shouted. I heard the echoes of
my voice. I was alone but in one way, that was good news. No dogs or
jackals. I continued walking and was soon busy untangling my cane from the
scrub. This was good since there had to be water nearby.

Time past; I was soon familiar with my heart beat and the way my breath
moved in and out of my nose. I even sneezed, the sound explosive and
sounding like a gunshot. Nothing happened. I knew that I could not go on for
long. I was refreshed after my nap but I had to do something. There had to
be a way to signal the camp. I thought of earth transmitters and of reverse
engineering my GPS receiver but I lacked the knowledge and skill to do this.
I had already determined the futility of shouting.

I was back in the Stone Age with a few modern tools but they could be junk.
Why had not evolution eliminated blindness? What was the evolutionary
advantage of being blind? Where was Darvon when I needed him? I could sit
here, meditate and get the answers but that was not the path I wanted for
myself. I needed fire to signal my camp. There was no flint and I did not
smoke so no lighter but I did have a battery and the USB cable and an axe. I
took the axe and just as I was about to take out the cable, it began to blow
again.  The wind was strong and insisted on pushing me in a different
direction to the one I was taking. Resistance was futile. I skidded along
trying to keep the axe from ramming into my leg. The cane was useless. The
wind just blew me along. I tripped and fell against a big rock. The wind,
having done its mischief dropped. The rock had crevices and using the axe as
a handhold, I began to climb since I thought it would be easier to be seen
and I was feeling vulnerable all alone on the sand. I used my left hand to
anchor myself and used the axe with my right hand to ram into the rock. I
kept testing the rock with my hands and many times, I was able to climb
without using the axe. The top of the rock was broad and had a surprising
amount of vegetation. Things were calm again so I took the USB cable out of
my pocket and peeled away the insolation. I then removed a core of the wire
and sat on it so that it would not be blown away. I next removed the battery
from the GPS receiver. I returned the receiver and USB cable to my pocket.
I felt for a nice dry bit of scrub and then short-circuited the battery
while touching the terminals and wire to the patch of scrub. I was going to
get one chance at this. The wind picked up again. I howled with frustration
and was answered. 
I was trapped and then came a crackling and the scrub caught fire. Flames
and smoke were all around me. The howls grew in volume and were punctuated
by coughing and receded. I moved about the rock trying to find a place to
wait out the fire. The noise of the fire increased and I was unable to
concentrate on anything else. I shoved the battery into my pocket, folded my
cane, secured the axe in my belt and took a step forward. I went over the
edge and began to fall. I curled into a ball and waited for oblivion.
I hit sand. Nothing seemed to be broken but I could feel another storm
coming. My eyes were stinging and I could barely breathe. I ran away from
the smoke. 

  Over rocks and into sand I went until I was deposited on to something
soft. I rolled over and my hand felt a familiar surface. It was tent cloth.
I hauled myself into the tent and realized with a shock that it was mine. 


I was bone tired. There was no point in undressing since I knew the major
would rouse us at first light, in order to begin the next leg of the trek.  

I lay on the tent floor and listened to the shrieking wind.  The tent rocked
with the force of the storm and the guide ropes creaked, but I enjoyed the
sounds

I had found a new friend in the wind.  My last thought was of the major'

The land had cut and bruised me, but the wind had been a good guide, and I'd
be thankful for that.