Don't Let the Sun Come Up On Me

“Hello, Jake.” 

“Hello, Mr. Quiet.”  

“Why are you lying under the coffee table, Jake?” 

“I’m not sure, Mr. Quiet.”  

“Because you’re dying, son.”  

“No, you got it wrong Mr. Quiet. I just need to rest.”  

“You’ve been resting on the floor for five days, Jake.”  

“You’re wrong Mr. Quiet. It’s only been a couple hours.”  

“I have a question for you Jake. Are you afraid?”  

Afraid of what, Mr. Quiet?”  

“Your eminent death. It must be your worst nightmare.”  

“Worst nightmare? What does that even mean? I mean, really Mr. Quiet, it’s a question without an answer, because if you dig down deep enough, fear lies at the bottom of everything.” 

It was warm on the mesa that day. Always a stiff breeze blowing unrestrained from the west. Always cotton candy clouds marching in formation to the mountain, sometimes gathering there to weep for the Lost Ones.                                                                                                     I was alone with my baby girl. She was one year and change, wobbling around pretty good. She was beginning to train her mouth muscles to form the words her brain already knew.                                                                                   

“Moom!” She squealed the other night, pointing at the full moon.                                                                        

We spent the morning hunting horny toads. We didn’t find any, but we witnessed an epic battle between a giant tarantula and a tarantula wasp.                                                                                              

To be honest, there was nothing epic about it. It was a massacre. The doomed, minding-her-own-business spider lumbered through the sage, too slow to escape. The wasp dipping and diving, delivering sting after sting until the poisoned spider went rigor mortise.                                                                                          

The wasp hovered down to the ground, kicking up a puff of dust.                                                                                    

Ignoring the impossible, it grabbed the frozen spider with its what… mandibles? And pulled it relentlessly away… to where?                                                                                            

It remained a mystery because it gets hot quickly on the mesa, time to get the little squid out of the sun.                                                                                         

“Do you want a piece of cheese, kiddo?”                                                                        

“Yeff! EEEZZ!” She gleefully squeaked.                                                                                                                                                                              

 Cheese is one of those Magical Things when you’re one and a half.                                                                                        

Three chunks. One for her, one for me and one for my old blind hound dog. He couldn’t see the cheese, but he could smell it. I tossed him the first piece, bouncing it off his nose. He’d find it eventually.                                                                                      

With cheese chunks in tow, we plopped down on the couch, spending the next few minutes munching cheese and getting to know each other. But she was spent from the grueling Horny Toad Safari and fell asleep rather quickly.                                                                                           

With the little one napping, I had a chance to finish cutting the wood. It was a beautiful day. Surprisingly little wind. The chainsaw was tuned up and running well.                                                                                                

My dog came out with me and snorkeled blindly through the sagebrush.  

His days were numbered. But on that day, everything was good. 

How long was I out there? Half an hour? I don’t know. It couldn’t possibly be an hour, could it? Time tends to warp out here on the High Desert.                                                                                            

I shut down the chainsaw, my ears ringing from its angry bray.                                                                                                The breeze gusts. A curious little dust devil appeared and whispered to me;   

‘check on the kid.’                                                                                                                                                    

Not loud. Not urgent. Just a soft little voice from that misty zone.                                                                                                            

The instant I stepped into the house, her eyes flew open with a look of confused panic. She was experiencing a new Magical Feeling.                                                                                           

She sat up, opened her mouth and silently screamed. Her face flushed, her eyes full of fear.                                                                            

My animal brain took over. No time to think. No time to fear. That would come after. 

I jumped down the steps and took three long strides to the couch, sitting down, putting her on my lap.                                                                                                  

Her arms were gyrating, her body starting to shake. Her condition was rapidly deteriorating and that’s because…?  

 She was CHOKING!                                                

What do you do with a choking child?  No time left. I didn’t have a plan. I'd never done this before. Instinct had to take over now.                                                                                                

I stuck my finger down her throat, not knowing what to expect. She didn’t like this and began to writhe, panic-stricken. I made a hook with the tip of my finger and pulled a wad of melted cheese from her throat. She gasped, struggled to take a raspy breath, gagged, spit up a little, and then forgot the whole thing.                            

I am alone in the understanding of what just took place. Five more minutes on the chainsaw would have sent us to a parallel universe.                                                                                             

A Dimension of Madness.                                                                                        

My little girl doesn’t exist over there.                      

That’s when the gut-wrenching fear arrived like a bad case of food poisoning. 

“That’s understandable, Jake. So parental fear takes the cake.” 

“I didn’t say that, Mr. Quiet.” 

“Are you telling me there’s something more frightening than losing a child?” 

“It’s a different kind of fright, Mr. Quiet. Widowmaker fright. A flavor very few people have tasted.”  

“And what would that be, Jake?” 

“Global Annihilation.” 

 It was early spring, cold but past bitter. My body was impervious to the frigid weather. Standing naked in the high desert air was enjoyably fresh. Our little adobe house had no bathroom and even if it did, it wouldn’t work because there was no running water. Out among the sagebrush was where I peed, unless I wanted to walk another fifty yards to the outhouse.  

I glanced at the clock on my way out. 3:40 AM.  

‘All the mesa mutts are riled up...Must be some coyotes nearby...Its kinda bright out ...must be a full moon...don’t see it...wait a minute...why is Martha’s rooster crowing? It’s only three fucking thir...no, is that the sunrise? It can't be...unless the clock broke...but even if it did, something is frighteningly wrong. I know it. The animals know it too. 

The sun is rising...three hours early...due north!’ 

In the pit of my stomach, for a split moment, true hopelessness. Helpless. Tiny.                                                                                               

The Earth had shifted on its axis!                                                                                                

Did this mean July was now September, which was now November? Did the tectonic plates re-align, shoving Brazil over by Australia? Were solar winds going to rip my skin off as they blew by?                                                                                                  

At any moment, the sun was going to breach the northern horizon.                                                                     

And at that moment;’ 

‘Me am Man of Cave! Mystified...full of Wonder...me see sun go dark and me see moon turn red, but me never see sun rise over faraway volcano. Always here, between sacred mountains. Me think it bad omen. Me am scared shitless...Me need fresh loin cloth.’                                                                                              

I stood with the other beasts, the fear of imminent annihilation swelling with the rising sun. 

The sunglow was a bright white halo growing larger, shining brighter. I knew in my heart once the sun breached the horizon, that would be the end time... I mean, what else could it possibly be... 

‘Here comes the SUN...OH GOD... RISING IN THE NORTH...but wait...look at those bizarre pink and purple ribbons shooting out where the sun should be. And look up at the sacred mountains, the weird red and green stripes floating around...wait a minute... 

“It’s the Arora Borealis! Scaring the piss out of us Southerners!                              

 Fuck You, Northern Lights!’        

“Thank you, Jake for sharing your stories. Not only informative but entertaining as well. But the time has come for us to go. Charon has the lantern lit. Say your goodbyes to this world Jake. 

“Mr. Quiet.” 

“Yes, Jake?”  

“I’m scared.”