Page 35 of Desert King

9

Tarak

A smile curves my lips. I refuse to open my eyes, wanting to savor the moment before it shatters like glass. My mind is out of the fog, but the fog still clings to my brain, like a fine mist. I know reality is just beyond the see-through veil, but I want to stay here in the part of sleep that hovers a breath away between this reality and the next one.

The sun’s rays climb above the horizon, brushing my bare back with the first rays of heat. I want the magic of the night to never end. I pull her closer.

My eyes pop open. I’m holding the bedroll Indé never opened.

A thousand swords pierce my heart. The glass shatters. “None of it was real? But I felt you, baby. I know you were here.”

My mouth is as dry as the desert basin full of sand. Somehow, I rise and make it over to the cave. Grabbing a bottle of water, I chug half before lifting it high and dousing my face with it. My head pounds. I search my bag for the aspirin I brought and swallow three.

Something’s not adding up here. The blunt Indé made was potent as fuck. He probably messed up the recipe. I shut my eyes. I saw her. Touched her. Tasted her… I can still smell her on my skin.

Puzzled, I walk back over to the bedroll finding a long piece of brown hair. I wrap it around my ring finger. It could be Regan’s. But I need to cling to something before I lose my mind.

I can’t stay here much longer wondering. I just need to keep the gift of the memory from last night and go before the sun climbs higher and the headache I have increases tenfold.

I clean up the campsite and head back down the mountain stopping short at the bottom. Someone else was here. The tire tracks look like the one’s from her truck. They’re rare. I had bought Mandy a custom set of tires meant for the beach. I was worried she’d skid on sand and had them installed. They’re wide and have a certain, unmistaken pattern to their grooves.

“You were here, baby. I knew it.” I don’t question the how’s of it. The Apache always believed in the mystical realm of life and so do I. I get on my bike, following the tracks until they stop at the asphalt road. I feel like I made love to my queen last night. I feel like a man again. No, a warrior. She gave something back to me last night, something I had been missing.

My swagger.

Making love to her always made me feel like a king. I always knew she was looking down, waiting for the time she could return to me. The harvest moon was on the night of our wedding date. I knew the distance of time and space would be close and I was right.

Everyone tells me to move on. But I don’t have to. Not when I know how to get her to come to me.

I pause, the powerful bike idling under me. Left, or right? I could catch up with the guys, but I feel like I went five rounds with Edge. My head pounds. My muscles are sore. Wincing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I need hot food, hotter coffee, and a cold shower. The drugs still lingering in my system are potent little fucks. Despite, my body feeling like I won a death match, my spirit is strong. I was with my girl last night and that will carry me for a while.

Pulling out, I turn left back toward Santa Fe. I’ll lose an hour or so, but I need to feel human again before I head back out on the long, open road.

I’ll freshen up, load up on food and let the memories of the night keep me moving forward for a while.

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