The Crying Crow

The sun beat down mercilessly onto Landon’s shoulders. With each step, he could feel the dry, hard earth crackle beneath his feet. He raised his canteen to his mouth and took a long, deep gulp. With each sip, he felt the water travel down his throat and hit his empty stomach. Right on cue, a low growl echoed from his belly. Taking the last of his jerky from his sack, he nibbled slowly on a piece. Only allowing himself to take the tiniest bites, chewing long and thoughtfully, until finally allowing himself to swallow. As if this ritual would somehow make him feel fuller. He hadn't truly felt full in weeks. Not since he came out here. He raised his head and observed his surroundings. Nothing. The rolling sand dunes stretched out into infinity. He took a deep breath, and felt the hot air enter his lungs. A slight gust of wind kicked up the sand and struck his face. Begrudgingly, he ventured onward. 

As he continued his slow march out into the abyss. He felt his mind wander to Josette. Her long, yellow hair glistening in the sun, rosy cheeks painted red by the sunlight, eyes glistening with excitement. He chuckled under his breath. He would never have come out here if it weren’t for her, in fact, he never would have gone anywhere if it weren’t for her. He was more than content to spend his days safe, inside, with a heavy book and a glass of whiskey. He never went farther than the next town over, and you would never have found him in anything less than a button up and slacks. That all changed when he met Josette. 

Not that any of that matter now, he thought pitifully to himself. Josette was gone, and there was nothing that he could do to bring her back. 

He had been out in the Mojave Desert for 2 weeks now, and was exploring the unmarked territories, searching for The Maggie Mine. It was rumored to be an old mining town, back when the California gold rush was in full swing, and supposedly was one of the few successful mining towns. But now, it was gone. It wasn’t on any map, or in any book. Just stories, rumors, whispers in the dark of a mysterious town with glorious treasures and an untold secret. Landon chuckled to himself. Not that he believed any of this of course. He wasn’t interested in buried treasure or ghost stories. He was here for Josette.

He remembered the first time she had told him about The Maggie Mine. It was their first date. Josette had insisted that they wake early to watch the sunrise on top of Timpanogos, a 14 mile hike in the Wasatch Mountains. When Josette first suggested it, Landon panicked. He had never done anything like that. He didn’t even own a pair of hiking boots. But Josette promised him that it would be worth it. He begrudgingly agreed.

They had started the trail at midnight, and hiked through the dark with only the light from their headlights to guide the way. He followed Josette up a winding dirt trail. They watched herds of deer bound through the brush, and heard the morning songs of birds whistling through the trees. When the reached the summit 6 hours later, he was dirty, sweaty, and exhausted. Josette smirked and chuckled quietly as Landon gratefully lowered his pack to the ground. He slumped down into the dirt and leaned his back up against a sharp boulder. Josette gracefully lowered herself beside him.

“So,” Landon began, but Josette cut him off.

“I come here at the end of every summer,” she whispered, “right before the leaves change into fall. Right before everything dies and fades away.” She stared out into the darkness. Her dark emerald eyes piercing the sky, searching for something. 

“I’ve come here every year for the past 6 years. And I’ve never been anywhere else. Never left this state, never explored other trails, never left this town. This peak is the farthest from home I’ve ever been.” She sighed, and lowered her head. 

Landon watched her lift her canteen and take a long, deep gulp. She sighed again, then turned and her eyes met his. A small smile grew across her face, revealing deep dimples and crinkled eyes. 

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” She whispered, and leaned in closer

Entranced by her piercing eyes and soft, warm voice, he slowly toward her, until their faces were barely an inch apart. She stared up at him from under long, hooden lashes. Her lips trembling in the cold. Landon’s eyes were fixed on her mouth, and he watched as the words slowly formed in the back of her throat and emerged ever so carefully from her lips, “I’m going on an adventure.”

Suddenly, a large crow swept past Landon, and his mind was brought back to his present situation. He had reached the top of a large valley, and below he could see towering mesas and a deep slot canyons that disappeared into the sandstone. As his gaze wandered across the vast desert, he spotted a small herd of longhorn sheep. A large ram with long, thick curved horns, a young female, and two small lambs playing in the dust. The father stood high above the ground, surveying the landscape in front of them; while the mother carefully watched her two children knock heads and kick up the dirt. The crow was soaring high above Landon now, and his shadow danced across the sandstone.

Landon found a somewhat comfortable rock to sit upon, and watched the small family. As the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, the valley began to glow in the soft, warm light, casting shadows across the sandstone. The larger ram let out a deep, low bellow that spread across off the stone and bounced around the deep valley floor. He turned, and slowly began making his way through one of the slots, with his family close behind him. Father leading the way, children in the middle, and mother bringing up the rear. Landon watched them for as long as they could, before they disappeared deep in the canyon. 

It was time for Landon to leave too. The sun was setting quicker now, and he needed to find shelter. He scanned the valley floor and spotted a small alcove in a far corner of the sandstone. “That’ll do.” he thought to himself. And began his descent into the valley. There appeared to be a small, narrow animal trail that lead down to the valley floor, and Landon followed it. It zig zagged all the way down, and was hardly more than 1 foot across. Landon pressed himself close to the sandstone wall, and began to shuffle sideways down the trail. With each step, a small cascade of pebbles tumbled out from under him and scattered across the floor far below him, quietly echoing around him. As he came to the first turning, he heard the loud caw of the crow above him. He raised his head and locked eyes with the crow, not 15 feet above him, perched on a protruding rock, watching him. He cawed again, and once more the valley floor echoed his cry. Landon turned and pressed on, the sun was setting, he did not have time for annoying crows and he did not want to be making his way down in the dark. 

He rounded the corner and suddenly, the trail was gone. He peered around him, searching for where it should be. And there was nothing. Only sandstone. He looked back up the trail he had been following, and his heart sank. It wasn’t an animal trail after all. When the monsoon season begins, and water returns to the desert, it ran down the wash where he had started, down this trail, and until it poured off the edge in a cascading waterfall. He could see the dark water stains now, that originally were obscured from his view high on the ridge. There was no way down. There was a large rock protruding out, about 15 feet below, and he contemplated jumping down to it. The valley floor was only 30 feet away from that rock, and perhaps he could climb down it and make it to the floor. He stared at it a moment longer, weighing to risks. 

From this height, if he didn’t land correctly, he could twist or even break his ankle. Then he would never make it out of here. If the rock wasn’t stable, it could shift and start a rock slide that he would most definitely not survive. If he chose to climb back up to the top of the ridge, he would have to camp out in the open. With no protection from the elements, or whatever other wild creatures hunted at night. He stared at the rock once more, and his heart sank. Tonight, he would have to brave the elements. It wasn’t worth the risk. He turned to shuffle back up the wash.

As he began to take his first step, he heard a loud rattle. He froze. The blood drained from his face, and he felt his skin turn cold. His foot was still hanging in the air, mid step, and one hand was pressed against the wall. His eyes searched the growing darkness around him. But he could see nothing. He heard the rattle again, followed by a low hiss. His throat closed, and his mouth went dry. Less than 2 feet away, a large rattlesnake was curled tightly, it’s tail quivering with anticipation, yellow eyes locked on Landon’s foot. The tail quivered again, and a loud rattle echoed around them. 

Neither one of them moved. Landon stared at the snake, and it stared back. A rattlesnake can strike at 2.5 meters per second, and Landon was well within striking range. The first rattle had been a warning, but now, it was ready to attack. It was a defensive maneuver, and Landon realized that he had passed the small crevice in which it had been sleeping. Lucky it hadn’t bite him right then and there. But it had woken him, and it was ready to defend it’s home. Landon’s foot was still in the air, and it was beginning to grow stiff. He couldn’t stand like this forever, and he had to make his move before the snake had had enough of their standstill. His eyes shifted back towards the boulder below him. If he moved fast enough, perhaps he could jump out of the attack radius and land on the rock below. Landon could possibly survive a rock slide, but out here, deep in the Mojave desert, with the nearest hospital a thousand miles away, he would never survive a rattlesnake bite. 

Landon steeled his mind, and took a deep breath. The rattler quivered again, and lowered itself into a striking position. It's now or never. He pushed off with all his might and lept out into the air. He felt the snake reach out, fangs extended, and brushed the side of his pants, barely missing his ankle. He tumbled through the air and smacked into the boulder below him, his shoulder absorbing the crushing blow. His head bounced against the rock and the darkness overtook him. 

Landon stirred. His head was ringing, and his face felt felt damp. It was pitch black, and he couldn’t see a thing. He held his hand out in front of him, and saw nothing. He slowly reached his fingers and gently brushed his face. A warm, thick substance stuck to his fingers. Blood. He gently pressed against his temple and let out a small gasp of pain. He groaned and rolled over. His shoulder pressed against the rock and he winced. He rolled onto his back and let out a breath. He was alive. Battered, but alive. He tried to sit up, but the blood rushed from his head and he almost lost consciousness again. He laid back down, and gently began to assess his injuries. He gently pressed his fingers along his bicep, up to his shoulder. It was tender and swollen, but nothing appeared to be broken. 

Landon looked at his watch. The face was completely shattered, but somehow the hands were still ticking. It was 3am. A blast of cold air swept up the side of the sandstone and hit his face. He shivered. There was no way he was climbing down in the dark, and there was no way to get back up. Not that he could move either way. He was head spinning, and his entire body was stiff and sore. As he gently pressed his fingers to his temple once more, he felt a small stream of blood oozing out the side of his head. He fumbled around in his backpack until he found a first aid kit, and gently wrapped his head in a bandage, wincing as he secured it tightly. He had survived the rattlesnake, and the fall. But it was far from over. Landon knew that without proper medical treatment, he could be in serious danger. 

Landon slowly lifted himself into a sitting position, his head spinning. He gently leaned up against the side of the canyon wall, wincing as his shoulder met the cold hard rock. His head felt heavy, and he leaned it against the cold rock, shivering. His eyes slowly closed. No! He raised his head quickly and moaned as his head reeled. He stomach turned and he felt a sickening, queasy feeling rising up from his belly. He turned and heaved over the side of the canyon. After expelling what little food was left in his stomach, he leaned back against the wall and wiped his mouth. He needed to stay awake, and he needed help. Now. As he lay against the cold, hard rock and tried to stay awake, his mind wandered to Josette. The memories were a blur, and his mind felt fuzzy. But he remembered snippets of their time together. 

Hiking Timp every year that they were together. Plans they had made to find The Maggie Mine. The dimples is Josette’s face growing deeper as Landon knelt on one knee and asked her to be his. Sipping coffee together while Josette worked tirelessly on her art while Landon sat content in the corner with his book. Pure joy when the doctor gave them the good news, and as Josette’s belly grew and grew. Josette laughing as Landon attempted and failed to put together the crib. Tears when the baby wouldn’t be coming home with them. Heartache as Josette lost her hair, and began to fade away into nothing. Complete and utter despair when she was buried in the ground. Pure loneliness when Landon went home alone for the first time in 7 years. 

The memories were blurring together now. And all Landon could see was Josette’s face in every single frame. He struggled to remain conscious, but the darkness was seeping into every corning of his mind. All he saw was Josette, and she reached out her hand to him. She leaned her head in close to his, until their faces were barely an inch apart. She stared up at him from under long, hooden lashes. Her lips trembled. Landon’s eyes were fixed on her mouth, and he watched as the words slowly formed in the back of her throat and emerged ever so carefully from her lips, “Let’s go on an adventure.”