Chapter Four

Tess

Break of day

Big Daddy Dune, Namibia

A polite line of international travelers stood by the three-sided, last-opportunity, open-air latrine. Gwen held out her packet of wet wipes.

Tess pulled out a sheet. “Thanks. No water out here. What do you think of that decision?”

Gwen tugged a sheet for herself, then slid the packet into her pocket. “I see a lot of tourists dressed for the cold morning desert. I don’t think they can fathom how hot it will get when this sand heats. And not knowing that means they didn’t come prepared in other ways. Salty snacks.”

“I could use something salty right now. I’m still hungry from when we left yesterday.”

“Yeah? The packet of instant oatmeal didn’t do it for you?” Gwen chuckled. “You are so bad at being hungry.”

“I earned that trait honestly. But we’ve been spoiled by the amazing campfire meals we’ve had on assignments over the years. I think that’s why I’m extra disappointed.” Tess gestured to the people in line. “I don’t fault these folks. You’d think their guides would, I don’t know, guide them? People can’t understand the ramifications of something like two percent humidity unless they’ve experienced it. I mean, you can’t think ahead if you have no clue what’s on the horizon.” Tess lifted her chin. “Did you bring water?”

“I have a liter in my pack.” Gwen adjusted her strap as both women stepped forward with the line. “With this heat, that should be enough to cover our time here and get back to the vehicle.”

Casting her gaze about, Tess said, “Since this place is tourist only, you’d think there should be at least some kind of vending machine situation, even if it’s not cooled. But with solar panels, a cold drink could be available. A water source of some kind seems important, right?”

“You’re like Miss Hyper-Prepared. I can’t imagine you not having seven scenarios you’d extrapolated and built contingency plans around, except maybe bringing enough meal replacement bars. You're pretty annoying about all that if I were to be perfectly honest.”

“Let’s not be.” Tess slid her sunglasses off, then put them back in place.

“Okay, it’s also true that listening to your thoughts of potential doom, while irritating—”

Tess smiled. “A given.”

“It’s also one of the reasons why I always feel safe around you. You plan, and I coast. Sorry, not sorry.” She twitched her knees back and forth. “This is taking forever. What’s wrong with these people’s systems?”

“Too much half-cooked rice?” Tess offered. “About being prepared, that’s reflexive from my childhood. But as I said earlier, I can’t prepare for everything because I don’t know everything. Right?”

“Uhm. Nope, I’m not following.”

As Tess stepped forward with the line. “Here’s an example. I had a scary thing happen simply because I didn’t know what I didn’t know.” She focused back on Gwen. “I was visiting a friend in Midland, Texas, and decided to change my airline ticket, drive to the Grand Canyon, and check some things off my iconic-must-do list. I’d drive over the Hoover Dam, then I’d fly out of the hub in Vegas, which would give me two more checks.”

Gwen smirked. “You were unprepared for all of the Elvis interpreters?”

“No. I was unprepared for the nothingness. On the East Coast, you get on the highway, and every thirty minutes or so, there’s a gas station and some kind of food and toilet,” she gestured toward the latrine as someone rounded out of the facility, and the line took another step forward. “Typically, when traveling, I fill up when my tank dips under half-filled. You never know when an accident or some such will leave you idling on the highway, and you don’t want to run out of gas. I was on three-quarters tank this time, but as I drove by a gas station, I thought I’d just top it off and grab a cup of coffee.”

“Good decision, I take it.” Gwen pulled off her sunglasses, exhaled on the lenses, and polished them with the hem of her T-shirt.

“I drove down the highway, and suddenly, it was the desert. The cute kind with cactus and–”

“Dirt?” Gwen chuckled.

“Yeah, that kind of desert.”

“This must have been a while ago if you thought there was cute dirt.”

“Undergrad. So I got out and was taking pictures.”

“Of the dirt.” Gwen grinned broadly, looking thoroughly amused.

“Picturesque dirt.”

“You’d have to show me. I can’t imagine that.” Gwen gestured to the area around them. “This is pretty darned picturesque. I take back my snide comments.”

“Thanks. So there I am driving. After about an hour of that, there was no one and nothing. No pull-offs, no houses, no other cars.”

“No cell towers to tell someone you were freaking out. Given the fact that you did undergrad a very long time ago, I bet at the time the connection was zilch.”

“I had a flip phone, which was useless, and a GPS unit. The GPS said there was no gas for four hours in any direction, of which there were only two, where I’d come from and straight ahead. My car holds about four hours of highway gas miles.”

“Ah, I see. You’d already driven over an hour at that point. Not enough gas, what else was lacking?”

“Water for one. If I broke down, there was literally nothing and no one out—I take that back. That’s not right. I saw a lone cow that looked like it was lost, and I saw a guy on a bike heading the opposite way than I was. Shorts, shoes, no shirt, no camel bladder of water. Nothing extra on his bike.”

“No bells and tassels?” Gwen turned to the front of the line and scowled. “For heaven’s sake. What the heck is going on? I need to pee.”

“I’m distracting myself with the story. Okay, the guy on the bike should have been prepared with his survival ten and maybe saddlebags with food and water. A water bottle? A shirt and hat? Tire repair kit? I guess, in my mind, only a serial killer would act that crazy.” Tess wrinkled her nose. “As I say all this out loud, Namibia rings a lot of those ‘What the crap did I get myself into?’ bells for me.”

“No cows, though. But there were baboons on the side of the road who looked like they’d like to hitch a ride.” Gwen scuffed a foot into the sand. “So there you were … ”

“Terrified. Squeezing that steering wheel for dear life, telling myself that if anyone popped up in the middle of the road and tried to flag me down, I’d note the coordinates and tell the police.”

“But if they also happened to have an ax in their hands? You thought that one through, too.” Gwen grinned. “Tell the truth.”

“If anyone got in the road, I planned to floor it and drive right over them. I primed myself for that eventuality.”

The woman behind Gwen turned to give Tess a long, hard look.

Tess offered up a flat-lipped smile. “About twenty years ago. Everyone’s fine,” Tess said, and the woman turned back around.

Gwen raised her brow and tucked her chin. “See? You were fine. No need for all that worry.”

“Mmm. I think maybe my guardian angel was working overtime that day. There was the unusual compulsion to top off the gas, and then there was the thirty minutes of driving on an empty tank that, to this day, I can’t fathom.”

“You know this. When it says empty, you still have a bit.”

Tess shook her head. “I rolled into the gas station in New Mexico, and when I got to the pump, I couldn’t get the top off. I had to ask the guy who was gassing up beside me. He two-handed it and had to lean his weight to get it off. My tank was so empty that it had vacuum sealed.”

“And no people until that gas station?” Gwen asked.

“No one and nothing after the cow and the biker.”

“Wow.” Gwen shook her head.

“Yep. It was definitely wow. And since there wasn’t a bar in immediate view—”

“And you weren’t of legal drinking age to imbibe—”

“That, too. I soothed myself with fat and sugar.”

“Bunuelos?” Gwen lifted her chin. “Your turn in the loo. Please hurry.”

Tess handed off her survival ten bag to Gwen. “Bunuelos, yes. You know me so well.” She rounded the metal wall to take her turn in the latrine. As she dropped her trail pants to her boots and squatted over the hole in the ground that had ripened to a nauseating smell with the sun's heat, she called out, “What are your thoughts about Big Daddy Dune? Do you want to climb it?”

“It’s not a hard climb. Hour up. Five minutes down.”

“Yeah. So you want to do that?” Tess held her breath as she pulled up her pants; a few more seconds, and she’d be in less noxious air.

Gwen traded places with Tess, calling out, “To be honest, I think I’ve climbed my share of dunes. It’s lost the novelty for me. I want to see the salt flats and the desiccated trees. They’re so beautifully stark against the horizon. I planned to spend my time photographing them.”

“Exactly my thoughts.”

As Gwen emerged from behind the metal privacy wall, rubbing sanitizer over her hands, Tess draped her arm over her friend’s shoulder. “And this is why we get along so well.”

Gwen held a hand toward the trail, where tourists followed one behind the other like ants at a picnic. “I can taste an impending adventure. Are you ready?”