Finish the Fiction Story Contest - Week #11

NEXUS@TubaCity

He drained the last of his waterskin and sank to his knees. What a crap place to die. Tuba City. Dirt and rocks and nothing but a cracked and empty highway half buried in sand. Maybe if he caught his breath he could make it to the mesa. But then what? Who was he kidding? He was done.

There was a distant whoop and he could just make them out. Perhaps five hundred yards. Maybe less. The Eggman and Tree, pace steady, drawn towards him like rats to steaming garbage.

His head drooped down. He had no juice left to fight. And then he saw it. He had to crawl until the dark form took shape. It was a footprint. A footprint sunk into solid rock. Bigger than his head. Three toes, huge claws, every detail visible, as if chiseled by a master. His whirling brain finally caught a gear and delivered. “Huh,” he said, “Raptor print”.

They were only a few hundred yards away now, skullblades catching the last of the sunlight. Time was going, going, gone.

Why here? A two hundred million year old echo pressed into stone, a sliver of time out of sequence, a crossing over point. This was the place. It was meant to be here. Him, Eggman and Tree, and the silent intruder from across a gulf of eons. Good Lord. Who organizes this shit? So many variables for them all to wind up here. Had to mean something, he just couldn’t figure what.

"This wouldn’t be so hard,” he mumbled to himself, “If you weren’t tripping balls”.

My Entry:

“I am the Walrus,” the Gunslinger said and got flat on his belly. He put his face inside the Raptor footprint. The only thing he’d eaten in the last 24 hours, peyote buttons.

He could see an ant in graphic detail. It looked back at him waving antennae. Some form of communication on this lost highway. Then the ant began to dig in the sand. The Gunslinger took it as a clue. He dug his hands into the sand at his sides. He became the sand as he melted into the fine grains.

Eggman and Tree continued their approach, laughing a little at the sight of the gunslinger wiggling in the desert.

“He’s finally gone bonkers,” said Eggman pushing his pince-nez sunglasses on his nose, the skullblade resting on his shoulder.

“Never thought I’d see this, Line of Eld my limbs,” said Tree as he took a drink of water from a full canteen.

Eggman and Tree were in high spirits. Well fed, and well rested, and now moments away from killing their rival.

Universal oneness overtook the Gunslinger. He remembered his night of reverie with the Man in Black. The gravitational field of nucleus, electrons, and protons within the sand, and within himself, merged into an organic being that spread for miles in all directions, the desert now a spider web of luminous fibers extending from his being.
Eggman and Tree stopped about 10 yards from the Gunslinger.

“Are you really going down like this? Two days ago you were blazing bullets in Tuba City. And now you’ve got your head in the sand,” said Eggman with the skullblade still resting on his shoulder.

The Gunslinger’s life force moved all around the rocks, Eggman and Tree, and parts of him flew through the air as the Raptor began to run for its next meal.

“Hear that?” Tree asked.

“Yeah. What is that?” Asked Eggman.

They both turned around to see the Raptor closing in on them. Mouth wide with teeth the size of their skullblades. They took a defensive stance. Only Tree got picked up and thrashed around before they could fight. Eggman took a swipe with his skullblade that cut deep into the side of the Raptor. It threw Tree dead to the ground. Then tried to claw Eggman. Eggman cut the claws off with his skullblade.

The two stood staring at each other, mano a mano. The Raptor flared its nostrils then gave out a blood chilling roar. Eggman, stood with his skullblade in kung fu repose.

The Raptor charged. Eggman sliced the belly of this beast before its other claw beheaded him, his pince-nez sunglasses landed near the Gunslinger.

The Raptor fell, gasping for air, as its insides bled out.

The Gunslinger awoke from his trip across the Universe. He put on Eggman’s pince-nez sunglasses to shield his eyes from the sun, drank from Tree’s canteen, and then began to cook Raptor steaks for breakfast.

Thank you,

Cyrus Emerson

Fear and Loathing in the State of Jefferson
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B079R5KLPN&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_GsURAbAVDYNEM

Beatles – I Am the Walrus

All copyrighted material on this page licensed for Steemit release.

You’re a Whale to me, so add your name to my curation trail: @cyemela

Lost Angel – Corporate America – Poetry Series every Friday!

Making Red Roses the Audiobook entries every Sunday!

Thanks for checking in, more blog posts to follow . . .