The Traveller

The Traveller

My bones ache. My eyes sting. But the track is clear in front of me, a pale gold ribboning into the endless distance, a contrast to the redder desert sands around me. I see dunes rippling in the haze, and rocky outcrops leaning into my path. The sun is harsh, the heat unbearable. I put one foot in front of the other, mindlessly. I hear sighs and whisperings from the clumps of dry grass, from the sand slithering down the dunes, but cannot make out the words.

Pop! Out of the shimmer appears a large cane rat. He looks confused for a moment, but then sits back on his haunches and looks at me quizzically.

“Who are you?” I ask.

He preens his whiskers and then spits.

“Jeez, your road is a bit of a shit show. Hot and dusty, doesn’t look like there’s much to eat or drink around here. Not my kind of place, nope. No cover either.”

“But … you look like a cane rat; shouldn’t you be at the coast, in the cane fields and all the greenery?” A sudden longing comes over me for the warm damp humidity of Natal, the tall grassy tops of the cane plants swaying to the sound of the ocean and its breezes. Then I realise that I don’t actually know anything about cane rats, I only called him that because he is rather large. But he seems friendly enough, if a bit irritable right now.  

“Would love to be there, brother, sounds great! But you summoned me here, dude.”

“I did?”

He gives a disarming grin, showing sharp yellow teeth. “Yeah, looks like I’m to be your travelling partner on this road. Hope I’ve got some sustenance in my pockets.” And he starts rooting around in the pockets of a pair of red shorts – red shorts! Where did they come from?  – and pulls out nothing.

“Rats!” he says. ‘Listen dude, I may have to disappear now and then, got my own stuff to deal with too you know. But keep the faith, I’ll be back!” And with another Pop! he vanishes.

I shake my head and trudge on. The road curves, and just to the side of it a huge boulder leans over, casting a shadow. It is three times my height, and at its base is a dark opening. It looks cool and shady. I crawl in and lean against the damp muddy wall, soothed by the release from the hot yellow sun.  

“You can’t stay here.” The voice is deep black shade with gravelly undertones. I look around wildly.

“Who are you? Where are you?”

“You can’t stay here,” the voice repeats. I look towards the gloom at the back of the cave, and think I make out a craggy rocky face on the wall. Beyond it a black tunnel yawns.

“Are you crying?” I ask, catching a glimmer of moisture oozing from an eye socket.  

“I cry for all who pass this way. But you cannot come through here. Not ready for the cold, the hot road is your road.”  And with that I feel a hard punch in the centre of my back and I find myself face down back on the road, dust in my mouth.

I lift my head and open my gritty eyes. A hand’s length away from my face an emerald green snake is coiled in the road, his upper body and head raised, gazing at me.

“My name is Pain,” he hisses. “Those who meet me yearn for my embrace, it is exquisite torture, never to be forgotten. You have been chosen to feel my kiss.” He sways himself higher, and I can see he is one of those pretentious arseholes who love the sound of their own voice.

“No thanks. You can unchoose me, you’re not my type,” I say, rather rudely. He looks at me with a cold and unblinking gaze.  

“You reject the offer I make you, from the heart and honour of Pain? You poor human – I will now tell you of the legions who have sought Me out, who have suffered and travelled through space and time to find this road, to find Me and no one else …”. But as he is gathering himself to declaim further, there is a swoosh of wings and a gigantic eagle scoops him up in her talons. The eagle perches on a rock above me, one mighty shining claw pinning the squirming snake firmly in place. She looks at me with a kindly eye, if I am interpreting that moist sheen over her black and gold-ringed iris correctly. Then with a rush of power she and the snake fly up and vanish. I wish she had stayed longer, and spoken to me of soaring through blue skies with the wind beneath her wings. Take me with you, I think.

“Well, that was a close one. A close shave … a fang or two away from disaster …. you nearly bit the dust …”. It’s the cane rat, chewing on a piece of sugar cane. He laughs at his own wit, though I think he should give it up. Then he nearly chokes on the cane. I notice he doesn’t offer me any– I could maybe have nibbled on the unchewed end, but clearly that’s not in his plan. He clears his throat.

“By the way, thanks for the tip, brother. Those cane fields are pretty cool, even got myself a little bit of a social interaction, know what I’m saying?” I can’t decide if I like him or not, but he is company, and he’s certainly less annoying than the snake.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Sorry bro, no can do. No names here. You saw what happened to that snake. Maybe if the road ever ends and I’m still here, then we can be on a first name basis. But not now.”

“So, what is this road? Where does it go? You seem to be pretty knowledgeable,” I say. He seems like a guy who might respond to flattery. His whiskers droop and his ears twitch, and for a moment he looks uncharacteristically serious. “I wish I knew. Do you really think there are simple answers to those questions? Some say the road goes on for ever, but you can get off it. Some say it ends differently for everyone. Some say it never ends but loops round and round and you are always on it, and you always come back to the start. And … – he leans in close towards me, his breath sweet from the cane – … some say there are different roads that never end, think about that!” He sits back, with the air of someone who’s said weighty and significant things. “But I’m here with you dude, here to help you, let’s travel on for now!”

I am about to pursue this line of enquiry – Why is he here? How is he supposed to help me? Why did I call a cane rat? When is he going to get on with helping me instead of spouting philosophy 101 and channeling Tolkien? – when I hear a sweet and melodic humming in my ear. Wisps of cool white mist start to appear, and I see they come from a fluffy little cloud above my head. The cane rat lies down with a sigh, and appears to go to sleep.

“Come with us, come with us …” sing the wisps. One of them shapes herself into a slender and very appealing white hand, sparkling little rings on her fingers, and beckons me. She holds out her hand in a tender gesture.

“Come and bathe in the cool waters of our lands, pure and fresh. There are golden flowers there, and songs of light, and you will never be lonely again. We will always be with you,” she lilts. Other wisps twine around me and I find myself being gently pulled off the road – but now the wisps are darkening and growing dense, tightening around my neck, I am choking and it is hard to breathe. I feel a sharp sting, and I look down to see the cane rat sinking his teeth into my ankle.

“Get a grip, man!” he says through a mouthful of flesh. So I do, and step back on to the road, shaking off the wisps. They vanish with an angry swirl and sparkles of mist.

I see blood on my ankle, trickling down and pooling red into the sandy surface of the road.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, bro,” says the cane rat, pointing at the blood with a grubby claw. “To keep you focused. To keep you on the road while I can. Never trust the clouds! Sneaky things, always changing shape and pretending to be things they aren’t, sending people to sleep. You don’t know where they were planning to take you, if you even got there before you croaked – ha ha. Cool fountains or whatever, my furry arse! Your only chance is to stay on the road as long as you can. Lucky for you that cave boy took pity on you and kicked you out back on to the road while I was away – sorry about that, by the way.” I feel ashamed for doubting him, but also a bit pissed off that he left me.

“Thanks, I guess. So that means you won’t disappear again? You weren’t supposed to leave me?”

“There aren’t really rules, but yeah, it was a bit irresponsible. But I figured, you know, we were only at the start, should have been okay. But let me tell you about my little trip …”. And he chatters on, quite interesting really, especially as he visited my home turf – from a different perspective, of course. We walk on together, and I am glad of his company.

I am tired. The cane rat is still talking, but I notice he fades in and out of my vision, flickering like one of those old black and white movies. I begin to stumble, so I lie down on my back. Then I feel the soft touch of cooling rain on my upturned face and my aching heated body begins to unclench and softly sink into the sand. My vision goes dark. The voices I hear now seem familiar.

“Looks like the fever’s broken, doc. Do you think he’ll make it?”

“Hard to say. Only time will tell. For now, the best thing for him is a long and quiet sleep.”