text: [Themes: modern, horror]
  
  It would probably be best not to walk along the highway where a cop might see you. You've come a long way and you don't want to be taken home when you're so close you can almost taste it.
  
  You head back around the building and plunge into the darkness. The sky overhead is crowded with stars, but since there is no moon out tonight they offer very little light to see your way by. You'll have to take it slow and easy so you don't step into a hole or trip over something in the dark.
  
  You take small steps. With each one the ground seems to get steeper and steeper until you finally have to crawl on your hands and knees to keep from sliding back down the hill. It would probably be much easier in the daytime, but it would be a lot hotter and you would need water.
  
  The ground becomes rocky and some of the stones are so big that you have to go around them. You keep working your way toward higher and higher ground until you run into a cliff that you can't climb, then you follow along its base. Every now and then, your foot dislodges a rock and you listen as it gets fainter and fainter until it finally tumbles out of earshot.
  
  At long last, the cliff starts to fall away and the ground begins to slope around it. You keep going until you find a crevasse that leads right up through the middle of it. It's probably the only way through so you heft yourself into it and it's just like climbing stairs in the dark. You keep going up and up and up until you reach the top and the stars seem to hover right straight in front of you.
  
  You can't see the ground on the other side and you sure don't want to plummet off a cliff so you make yourself as comfortable as you can and wedge yourself in for the night. You pull your knees up and fold your arms against the cold. You close your eyes to try to sleep your way to morning. Maybe then you will be able to see whether you can climb down the other side or if you'll just have to turn around and find some other way.
  
  The sky starts to brighten a dingy dishwater gray. You couldn't sleep at all last night thanks to the cold. That's fine, though, you can find a nice shady spot and sleep through the sun. First things first, though, you have to get off this mountain.
  
  You stretch your stiff legs out from under you and pull yourself up with the wooden clubs that are your arms. Through the gap in the rocks, you can see a narrow, winding rock shelf snaking its way around the far side of the rocks. You can't see where it ends, but it beats going back down and all the way around.
  
  Out across the valley, you can see a gray line at the base of the far away cliffs. It must be the tracks. It's a long ways away. The sun will be up before too long and you'll have to find a place to sleep in a few hours so you'd better get moving.
  
  You wriggle your way over the top of the rocks and stretch out your toes until you can feel the ledge beneath them. It's a little wider than your shoes are long so it shouldn't be all that hard to stay on.
  
  Taking small steps and crowding the rock face as best you can, you slowly make your way down and down. It's actually easier than it looked from the top.
  
  The sun spills its rays over the far horizon and they blanket you in their warmth. Your stiff muscles melt away. You can see farther now and the rocky ledge spreads out onto a slope several dozen yards away. You're going to make it just fine.
  
  You look down to see just how much farther you have to go and it grabs you. Everything looks so tiny down there. The world sways—first one way and then the other—and your legs no longer want to move. You clutch the rock face with all your strength and take tiny breaths so you don't accidentally push yourself backward off the ledge. You're legs start shaking and your palms get all sweaty.
  
  You close your eyes and feel the blood racing in your veins. You know you have to keep going, but how? If you fall off, it would take a long, long time to reach the bottom. You might not even pass out and feel the whole thing when you splat!
  
  Don't be such a fraidy cat.
  
  She's right. You can do this. You snap your eyes open and start the tiny sideways steps again. It doesn't take long for you to reach the rocky slope. From there, you memorize the mountain peak you need to walk toward to get to that gray line and then set out to make it as far as you can before the sun gets too high.
  
  You've covered quite a bit of ground when you find several big boulders in a roughly circular formation and sit beneath the largest one for its shade. You manage to nap quite nicely until the sun gets far enough to the west that you have to move to a different shady spot.
  
  When the sun has dipped more than halfway behind the horizon, you set out to make as many miles as you can before it gets too dark to see. You feel weak from hunger and from lack of water, but your will pushes you on.
  
  About halfway through the night, you look up to see a tiny sliver of moon directly overhead. It's no wonder that you've been able to keep going this long. Even with that tiny bit of light, you can see the ground quite clearly. The faint shadows contrast against the background and your eyes seem to have adjusted themselves to the lack of light.
  
  It's warmer down here than it was last night, but the air still has that certain crispness to it. You haven't been able to see the mountain peak for hours, but are confident that you haven't strayed too much from your intended goal. You just keep pushing yourself. You are going to make it. You have no other choice.
  
  You continue on. You've been walking for hours and you feel like your legs are about to fall off. If you don't just collapse, that is. But, you must keep going. There will be time to rest tomorrow—when it is too hot.
  
  The stars and the moon flow gently to the west, but you don't even notice. You are too focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
  
  Suddenly, you see a straight black double line running perpendicular to your path. It looks like it might be the edge of a cliff so you approach it ever so slowly. When you're nearly upon it, you discover that it is higher than the rest of the ground around it.
  
  It's the tracks! You've found them! You really found them! They weren't nearly as far away as they looked. You feel great! You are KING!
  
  You turn toward the west—nearly skipping—and continue on your journey. Now all you have to do is find some water and some food, then you'll be all set.
  
  You watch as the sliver of moon finally disappears behind the black horizon and the stars start to twinkle just a tiny bit brighter. You can barely make out the rails on either side of you, but there's still more than enough light to guide you.
  
  You trudge on and on in the darkness. It feels somehow comforting to you now. Like you might be the only person in the whole world. The cloak of night is your friend, your companion.
  
  As the sky starts to gray, you can see farther and farther with each passing minute. There are no yard lights. No houses. No distant towns. No nothing. You feel completely alone now. It gives you a lump in your throat.
  
  The sun is on your back now and you can feel its rays trickling warmth into your rigid skin. You can't turn around to look at it. You have to save every last bit of your strength. You can barely lift your legs and the toes of your shoes scrub furrows in the dust. Still, you plod on.
  
  When you've nearly caught up with your shadow, you scan the area for some cool shade. You see a pile of old lumber out all by its lonesome. It may have been some kind of mining shack at one time, but it's impossible to tell. It's the only thing within sight and the two vertical boards won't offer any shade for hours yet, but you can't go on. You have to get off your feet so that means you have work to do.
  
  You stumble over and start dragging and prying boards from the ground as best you can. It takes some doing since half of them are buried in sand. You are just pulling up the last one when you see something shiny under it. You drop the board as you jump back thinking at first that it might be a snake. It couldn't be, though, it didn't even resemble anything that could even be alive.
  
  Sticking another board under the one you dropped so you don't have to stick your bare hand in there, you pry it up. It takes a moment for the sun's glare to clear from your eyes and then you see a magical treasure. It is a half-crushed tin cup that is about a third full of old water. It is dark and has a funny smell to it, but it's wet. You aren't sure that you should drink it, but you might die if you don't get water soon.
  
  > Don't drink it
  It's probably better not to risk drinking it, but you sure don't intend to waste such a gift. You pull your shirt off and wet it carefully from the cup—being extremely careful not to let even a single drop roll off onto the ground. You wipe your back and chest off with the cool rag as best you can before wrapping it around your head like that man did in that movie you saw a long time ago on TV.
  
  You go back to work and before long, you have something that resembles something that someone might accidentally mistake for a shack. It's more of a lean-to than anything, but at least there's shade.
  
  You get down on all fours and crawl through a narrow opening at the bottom. The ground is still hot and could possibly blister if you dally. Once inside, you scoop handful after handful off the top and shove it against the sides at the bottom. It'll help hold them up as well as give you a faintly cooler spot to lay down.
  
  Slumping over, something bites your little finger. It stings a little, but nothing serious. You push yourself back up and see a tiny scorpion right where your hand was so you slam your fist down on it and crush it before it can reset itself to strike again. You don't see any others, so you lay down and look at the white sky through the cracks for a while to make yourself sleepy.
  
  When you wake up, the sun is still high and your hand is throbbing something awful. You need water desperately and your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth.
  
  Pushing yourself back against the far wall you try to get your mind off of your hand by watching what little light filters through the cracks. While you watch as the sun makes its ever so slow descent, you wipe yourself off every now and then with the cool rag—truly a gift from heaven.
  
  You don't know when the throbbing in your hand went away or when your head sagged, but you open your eyes and between the vertical planks you can see the light fading from the sky. There are reds and oranges and pinks. Even through the slits, it is breathtaking.
  
  You scurry back through the hole in the boards and see the tapestry of the western sky in all its glory. The sun has already set, but has left an explosion of color in its wake. You stand there a moment in awe before setting off down the tracks once more.
  
  You walk through the night taking frequent rest breaks to rub away the burning cramps in your legs and once, you have to move away from the tracks and go prone when a freight roars through. You don't think you'll be able to make it much farther if you don't find drinkable water soon.
  
  When the sun starts to peek its head, you scan the barren landscape looking for both water and another daytime shelter. It's already getting too hot for comfort. Up ahead a couple of miles, you see a string of hoppers sitting off on a siding near the foot of a small mountain. They won't offer much, but at least it's shade. You quicken your pace despite your toes attempting to curl themselves in under your feet.
  
  There's plenty of shade under the hoppers when you reach them, but already they are giving off more heat than would be comfortable. You do spot a dusty brown prickly pear patch off toward the mountain so it's a good thing you decided to stop early in the day. It seems like so long ago when Harvey first showed you that you could eat it. You'll just have to be really careful when you pick and skin it since you lost your knife.
  
  You rush over and fall to your knees and start to carefully pluck one of the leafy pads. The tiny spines prick at your fingers so you take extra time to be even more careful. When you have it in your hands, you dig the skin off of it with your thumbnail. The moisture runs down and drips off your hand. You greedily lap up the sweet juice as you continue digging away the skin and spines. When you have enough exposed you take a bite and the sweet flavor explodes in your mouth. It doesn't taste bland at all. Maybe it's because it's later in the year and maybe more ripe or maybe it's just because you haven't eaten or had anything to drink in days.
  
  After three pads, you can't hold any more but you continue chewing up bite after bite to get at the juice. While you're gorging yourself, you see a deep shadow at the base of the mountain that looks like it has a door in it. Weird. Who would put a door in a mountain?
  
  You push yourself to your feet and stumble over to the shadow and see that it's not really a door, but a boarded up hole. A cool draft hits you right square in the face. You have to get in there! At the bottom and under a faded sign that has slipped it's nail, there's a gap just big enough for you wriggle your way through if you swing the sign aside. It reminds you of the night you and Jane went into that spooky old house.
  
  C'mon, I know the way in.
  
  W-wait. What if something's in there? What if someone catches us?
  
  Don't worry. No one ever comes here. This place is 'bandoned.
  
  It seems so long ago and in a place you can barely remember and to a boy who no longer exists. Maybe even in another life, perhaps.
  
  You squat down and hold the sign up with one hand as you work your way inside. Sand sifts down on you as you pass through the opening—but only a little. From somewhere deep in the bowels of the cave, you can hear water dripping into a pool. Too bad it isn't outside. It's been so long since you've been swimming. It'd be a nice way to cool off.
  
  Sitting just far enough inside that you're out of the direct sunlight, you lean back to soak up the cool, damp air. Your stomach rumbles and cramps up, but you barely notice as you fall fast asleep.
  
  You wake up shivering and crawl back into the blast furnace through the little gap. You have a vague recollection of an eerie yawning groan having disturbed your sleep, but it quickly fades into the ether along with the dream that inspired it. You head back over to the prickly pear patch and perform your routine again. It'll take some time before you are back to one-hundred percent. Right now, you aren't even considering leaving this wonderful place.
  
  Once you've had your fill again, you crawl back into your hidey-hole. You have to crawl in a little deeper since the sun is at a lower angle and its rays stretch in nearly twice as far. It's not that you mind sleeping in the daytime so much, you just don't want those burning fingers on your skin.
  
  You see a lump over against the far wall and have to investigate what it might be. You carefully creep over in case it might be an animal—even though by its shape, it couldn't possibly be. You reach out with the toe of your shoe and give it a light nudge. It teeters to one side and comes back to rest in the same place with a tinny sound that reverberates off the walls. You immediately know what this object is. It's a bucket!
  
  If you can find the source of that dripping sound, you could have all the water you'd need for a couple days and surely you'd run into more by the time it is empty.
  
  > try to find the source
  Crawling slowly through the dark on your knees and feeling ahead of you with one hand while dragging the pail with the other, you make your way deep into the cave. The sound gets gradually louder the deeper you go until you feel spatter hit your face. It's coming from the wall from drips overhead, but the sound of the pool is still far away so you continue on.
  
  The ground is damp for quite a ways before it starts getting dry again. It doesn't appear that the sound is getting any closer. If you don't find it soon, you might as well turn back. You don't want to get lost in this cave. You might not be able to find your way back.
  
  The floor keeps rising steadily and turns from sand to rock. It slopes up steeply and you have trouble holding on enough while climbing with only one free hand. You've come just about as far as you dare. You try to determine how much farther the sound of the pool is and in what direction, but the echo off the rocks makes it sound like it's coming from everywhere.
  
  It's no use. You shimmy back down the rock and start making your way back. You can feel eyes on you from the darkness, but can't tell from which direction. One way is as black as another. The only thing you can see is tiny white flashes at the edge of your vision.
  
  You reach the damp sand again and have just started across it when the ground under you starts shifting forward. You twist around and try to scramble back, but it's moving too swift and you're losing more ground than you gain. Then suddenly, you are in open air and tumbling head over feet. The fall seems to take forever. It's only seconds, but time has slowed down for you.
  
  "AaaAaaAaaahh!" your echo screams back at you.
  
  You hit the water head first. You frantically paddle for the surface. There is absolutely no light so can't tell which way is up. Your lungs are empty and you fight to not let the water in.
  
  Finally, you break the surface and tread water as best as you can, but you don't have the strength to last long. It dawns on you that you still have the bucket so you flip it upside-down—letting the water spill out and catch some air—to use as a float.
  
  When you've finally caught your breath, you kick and paddle over to a slimy and slick wall. There are no handholds so you slowly move along looking for something to grab onto.
  
  You come to a ledge that is right at water level and slowly work your way up onto it. When you're finally seated, you place the bucket beside you and take slow even breaths to slow your racing heart. That was way too close. You stand up and search the slimy wall and find nothing as far up as you can reach. You move from one end to the other and find nothing but the same.
  
  When you've regained your strength, you slip back into the water and—holding onto the bucket—start feeling around some more as you make your way around the pool. You make it back to the same ledge before long.
  
  You don't know how long you've been sitting here. Hours? Days? Weeks? It doesn't matter. It wasn't long before you couldn't feel your legs. Then your arms wouldn't work anymore. You can't even tell if your eyes are open or closed at this point.
  
  Out in the middle of the blackness, you see a shimmering speck of light that grows and grows until it finally takes shape. It's that dark haired girl with that mischievous grin. Her toes barely skim the water as she glides softly over to you. She reaches down and cups her hand over yours as she looks deeply into your eyes with those bright green eyes.
  
  You manage to mouth a word, but does it really escape your lips?
  
  "Jane" your echo whispers back.
  
  — The End