The
vomit projected hot and thick. Greg stood behind her looking everywhere at the
same time; dodging unseen aerial attackers while trying to hold Victoria’s hair
away from her face. He stumbled; she stumbled; and they both fell. She screamed
as she floundered in vomit trying to regain her feet. Looking up the stars
became a meteor shower and cacti loomed like predators. She picked herself up,
her head bouncing in figure eights. Seeing Greg distorted, she backed from him
into a looming cactus and screamed as it grabbed at her, stabbing her. It roared
and reached and she screamed again. Knife, she remembered, her knife. And then it was
in her hand; shiny, little, blurred, and streaking as it swam before her eyes
and then she was the attacker.
Greg
watched stunned as she eviscerated the cacti, oblivious of the inch long
needles that tore at her clothes and flesh. He was fucked. This was by far the
strongest mesc he had ever done. He was struggling for control and beginning to
get scared for Vickie. She was a first-timer. The fire, must rekindle the
fire. Light
always helped.
He
began collecting kindling. Every twisted, stunted piece of wood looked like a
severed zombie limb crawling through the dirt. He gathered what he could and
piled it on the coals of the fire. He gathered dry needles and leaves as the
world swam in and out of focus; the cacti seemed to lean in as if they wanted
to kiss him, stab him, hurt him … the needles caught quickly once he was able
to steady the lighter and draw forth flame.
Vikki
had torn apart two cacti but she was tiring; the light from the fire drew her.
She was bleeding from countless cuts and her clothes were tattered. She
frightened Greg and he backed out of the light and watched as she crept closer to
the fire.
Victoria
felt empowered; she had vanquished two attackers and now this, this fire was
her prize; its warmth so good, its flickering beauty hypnotic. She felt at
peace as she stared into its incandescent depth.
Gecko-Man
crept slowly between the cacti. Using his nose and mouth and tongue he
scavenged through mummified cacti remains and dry needles, rooting larva and
beetles from their nighttime lairs. Every time something scurried or slugged,
he slurped and gnawed and crunched contentedly. And then he saw the light: a burning
that caused an itch in the back of his skull. He twitched but couldn’t take his
eyes from it. He slowly moved towards it; only the light existed. It grew
stronger and brighter as he edged his way around cacti and outcropping rocks.
As
he approached, instinct kicked in and he skirted wide. He moved circularly,
never taking his eyes from the beautiful flickering light. His feet slipped and
he slid before catching himself, but still his weight pulled at him. He had
reached the edge of the canyon wall and he was slipping; he pulled and clawed,
sending detritus tumbling to the rocks below, but managed to regain his
footing.
Greg
heard the sound but it didn’t register; he was too lost in his own mind as he
stared into the flames from outside the radius of light. Victoria, however,
jumped instantly to her feet and turned to face it. She moved quickly and with
purpose into the darkness beyond the fire’s reach. Her attackers had returned. She
screamed, and threw herself at it, brandishing the knife once more.
Greg
heard the scream and watched as Victoria walked into the shadows after it. He found
her tumbling in the dirt with another person; limbs writhed, and Vikki screamed
in rage. Greg tried to separate them, grabbing at arms and legs; something bit
him, then knocked him to the ground. They were on top of him, thrashing; he was
trapped, one arm pinned beneath him. Panic settled deeply and he screamed; the
two thrashing bodies on top of him paused.
Taking
advantage of their stillness he thrust his pelvis up and twisted, freeing his
arm. He heaved, pushing out with both hands, and then they were gone. The world
went incredibly silent for a moment. A muffled thud sounded from below, but he
was already wandering off towards a shadow that had drawn his attention, once
more lost in the depth of mescaline. A coyote howled nearby and off in the
distance a siren began to whine.
//Scott Moraes, writer
//Graphics by Caitlyn Neufeld
//Scott Moraes, writer
//Graphics by Caitlyn Neufeld
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