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Lost in the Desert
So, thereâ€™s a man crawling through the desert.
Heâ€™d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldnâ€™t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.
He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that heâ€™d paid attention to the sun and thought heâ€™d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and heâ€™d be back to the small town heâ€™d gotten gas in last.
He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, heâ€™s afraid that heâ€™ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella heâ€™d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right.
He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day heâ€™s really thirsty. Heâ€™s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. Heâ€™s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket
is really getting tempting now. He knows that itâ€™s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to
it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.
He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.
By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures heâ€™s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesnâ€™t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesnâ€™t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that heâ€™s close, and that after dark heâ€™ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and thatâ€™ll be all he needs.
As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.
Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.
He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like theyâ€™re full of sand. He so thirsty that he canâ€™t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. Heâ€™d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadnâ€™t noticed it the night before because heâ€™d been in his car.
He knows the Rule of Threes – three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food – then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isnâ€™t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day.
He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? Heâ€™s not sure. Heâ€™ll go a little farther, and if he still doesnâ€™t find water, heâ€™ll try drinking some of the fluid.
Then he has to face his next, harder question – which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.
Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.
As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that – when you stop sweating he knows that means youâ€™re in trouble – usually right before heat stroke.
He decides that itâ€™s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He canâ€™t wait any longer – if he passes out, heâ€™s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesnâ€™t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.
He figures that since heâ€™s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out.
Heâ€™s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him – if he didnâ€™t drink it, heâ€™d die anyway. Besides, heâ€™s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick – their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.
He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes heâ€™ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. Heâ€™s careful to stay away from the movements.
After a while, he begins to stagger. Heâ€™s not sure if itâ€™s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going.
After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV – he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it – heâ€™s getting woozy enough and tired enough that heâ€™s not sure what he remembers any more or if heâ€™s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.
He was heading for a town, wasnâ€™t he? He thinks he was. He isnâ€™t sure any more. Heâ€™s not even sure how long heâ€™s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon – it seems like itâ€™s been too long since he started out.
He walks through the sand.
After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesnâ€™t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesnâ€™t think he remembers any. This is bad.
But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that heâ€™ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.
Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesnâ€™t feel like getting back up – heâ€™ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.
While crawling, if his throat werenâ€™t so dry, heâ€™d laugh. Heâ€™s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert – crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -shake the sand out, and a good wash, and theyâ€™d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.
He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that heâ€™s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isnâ€™t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.
Again, he doesnâ€™t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. Itâ€™s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And itâ€™s dark – darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he canâ€™t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. Heâ€™s going to have to go down there and look.
He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that heâ€™s in trouble – heâ€™s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks heâ€™s caught fire on the way down – like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.
He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadnâ€™t just imagined it.
So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. Heâ€™d get up and walk towards it, but he doesnâ€™t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesnâ€™t have water, heâ€™ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance.
He gets closer and closer, but still canâ€™t see whatâ€™s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes wonâ€™t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling.
Finally, he reaches the area heâ€™d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that heâ€™s no longer on sand – heâ€™s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it -a pattern cut into the stone. Heâ€™s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is – so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area.
His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesnâ€™t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface.
Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. Heâ€™s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then heâ€™ll know heâ€™s gone.
He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If heâ€™s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see whatâ€™s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling.
Itâ€™s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what heâ€™s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, â€œGreetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?â€
He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but itâ€™s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different – he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time.
Yep. He can see. Heâ€™s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle.
And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.
He stares at the snake in shock. He doesnâ€™t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesnâ€™t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, heâ€™s not going to be able to move from this spot.
Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. Heâ€™ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snakeâ€™s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.
Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadnâ€™t rattled yet -that was a good sign. Maybe he wasnâ€™t going to die of snake bite after all.
He then remembers that heâ€™d looked up when heâ€™d reached the center here because he thought heâ€™d heard a voice. He was still very woozy – he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didnâ€™t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didnâ€™t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe
they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and thatâ€™s why it wasnâ€™t biting.
He tries to clear his throat to say, â€œHello,â€ but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way heâ€™s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isnâ€™t good. He doesnâ€™t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out.
He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now.
He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, â€œHello? Is there anyone here?â€
He hears, from his side, â€œGreetings. What is it that you want?â€
He turns his head, back towards the snake. Thatâ€™s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help.
â€œPlease,â€ he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, â€œIâ€™d love to not be thirsty any more. Iâ€™ve been a long time without water. Can you help me?â€
Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, â€œVery well. Coming up.â€
A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. Heâ€™s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers – the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him.
He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them – blood. He feels his shoulder again – his shirt has what feels like two holes in it – two puncture holes -they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake.
â€œItâ€™ll feel better in a minute.â€ He looks up – itâ€™s the snake talking. He hadnâ€™t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices – heâ€™s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, heâ€™s not thirsty any more – at all!
â€œHave I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?â€
â€œSorry about that, but I had to bite you,â€ says the snake. â€œThatâ€™s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine.â€
â€œYou bit me to help me? Why arenâ€™t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I havenâ€™t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluidâ€¦ hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?â€
â€œNo,â€ says the snake, â€œIâ€™m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didnâ€™t give you a drink. I bit you. Thatâ€™s how it works – itâ€™s what I do. I bite. I donâ€™t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here.â€
The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasnâ€™t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great – he was still starving and exhausted, but much better – he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst.
â€œI might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request,â€ continued the snake. â€œI can guess why you drank it, but Iâ€™m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. Itâ€™ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it.â€
â€œUmmm, n-next request?â€ said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.
â€œThatâ€™s the way it works. If you like, that is,â€ explained the snake. â€œYou get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish.â€ The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.
â€œBut there are rules,â€ the snake continued. â€œThe first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility.â€ The snake looks at the man seriously.
â€œBy the way,â€ the snake says suddenly, â€œmy name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me â€˜Snakeâ€™. But that got old, and Samuel wouldnâ€™t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish.â€ Again, the snake grinned. â€œSorry if I donâ€™t offer to shake, but I think you can understand – my shake sounds
somewhat threatening.â€ The snake give his rattle a little shake.
â€œUmm, my name is Jack,â€ said the man, trying to absorb all of this. â€œJack Samson.
â€œCan I ask you a question?â€ Jack says suddenly. â€œWhat happened to the poisonâ€¦umm, in your bite. Why arenâ€™t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by thatâ€™s how you work?â€
â€œThatâ€™s more than one question,â€ grins Nate. â€œBut Iâ€™ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question.â€ The snakeâ€™s grin gets wider. â€œSecond, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. Thatâ€™s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more – but â€˜any moreâ€™ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent – now, as long as you live, you shouldnâ€™t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat – much like a creature of the desert. Youâ€™ve been changed.
â€œFor the third question,â€ Nate continues, â€œyou are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, youâ€™re a man – and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is.â€ Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.
â€œAs for the fourth question,â€ Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, â€œfirst you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I canâ€™t tell you.â€
â€œWait,â€ joked Jack, â€œisnâ€™t this where you say you could tell me, but youâ€™d have to kill me?â€
â€œI thought that was implied.â€ Nate continued to look serious.
â€œUmmmâ€¦yeah.â€ Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. â€œSo, what is this â€˜Bound by Secrecyâ€™ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?â€ Jack thought for a second. â€œAnd, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?â€
â€œThey may, I donâ€™t really know,â€ said Nate. â€œI havenâ€™t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?â€
â€œYeah, they do,â€ said Jack.
â€œI figured,â€ replied Nate. â€œAs for being bound by secrecy – with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You wonâ€™t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. Youâ€™ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, Iâ€™ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as Iâ€™m guessing that youâ€™re a man of your word, youâ€™ll never test the binding anyway, so you wonâ€™t notice.â€ Nate said the last part with utter confidence.
Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. â€œUmmm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?â€
Well, Jack,â€ said Nate sadly, â€œI canâ€™t tell you that, unless you make the second request.â€ Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.
â€œUmm, well, ok,â€ said Jack, â€œwhat is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?â€
â€œSure!â€ said Nate, brightening. â€œYouâ€™re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. Theyâ€™re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I canâ€™t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be – you still wouldnâ€™t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion.â€ Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him.
â€œWell, anyway,â€ continued Nate, â€œIâ€™d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, youâ€™d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and youâ€™d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And youâ€™ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me.â€
â€œCure the methanol poisoning, huh?â€ said Jack. â€œAnd keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesnâ€™t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I canâ€™t ask to be rich, right? Because thatâ€™s not really a change to me?â€
â€œRight,â€ nodded Nate.
â€œCould I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?â€ Jack asked, hopefully.
â€œThat takes two requests, Jack.â€
â€œYeah, I figured so,â€ said Jack. â€œBut I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?â€
â€œWell, I could make you very smart,â€ admitted Nate, â€œbut that wouldnâ€™t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldnâ€™t necessarily make you the best athlete either. Youâ€™ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, thereâ€™s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I canâ€™t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it.â€
â€œHmmm,â€ said Jack. â€œOk, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?â€
â€œMaybe,â€ said Nate, â€œit depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes.â€ Nate looked like heâ€™d shrug, if he had shoulders.
â€œOk, well, since Iâ€™d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesnâ€™t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?â€
â€œNo,â€ said Nate. â€œJust hold out your hand. Or heel.â€ Nate grinned. â€œOr whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, thatâ€™s how it works – the poison, you know,â€ Nate said apologetically.
Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didnâ€™t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk itâ€™s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldnâ€™t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasnâ€™t going to be easy.
â€œHey, Jack,â€ Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, â€œis that someone else coming up over there?â€
Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food?
Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nateâ€¦
Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeansâ€¦
Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. â€œI would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didnâ€™t have to
hoodwink me like that.â€
â€œIâ€™ve been doing this a long time, Jack,â€ said Nate, confidently. â€œYou humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you – especially one my size. And besides, admit it – itâ€™s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesnâ€™t hurt any more, does it? Thatâ€™s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that youâ€™d heal quickly now.â€
â€œYeah, well, still,â€ said Jack, â€œitâ€™s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldnâ€™t you have gotten my calf or something instead?â€
â€œMore meat in the typical human butt,â€ replied Nate. â€œAnd less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second.â€
â€œYeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear,â€ answered Jack.
â€œOk,â€ said Nate. â€œDo you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?â€
â€œJust talk,â€ said Jack. â€œIâ€™ll sit here and try to not think about food.â€
â€œWe could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,â€ answered Nate.
â€œHey! You didnâ€™t tell me you had food around here, Nate!â€ Jack jumped up. â€œWhat do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?â€ Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.
â€œI was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is,â€ replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.
â€œUgh,â€ said Jack, sitting back down. â€œI think Iâ€™ll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And thereâ€™s nothing to burn – Iâ€™d have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk.â€
â€œOk,â€ replied Nate, still grinning. â€œBut Iâ€™d better hurry, before you start looking at me as food.
Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. â€œYou, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden.â€
Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically.
â€œWell, thatâ€™s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack,â€ said Nate. â€œStand up and look at the symbol on the rock here.â€ Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose.
Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done – it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.
Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished heâ€™d looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky.
Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh!
Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. â€œIn all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate,â€ said Jack. â€œWhich way is it back to town? And how far? Iâ€™m eventually going to have to head back – Iâ€™m not sure Iâ€™ll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, Iâ€™m not sure Iâ€™ll want to.â€
â€œItâ€™s about 30 miles that way.â€ Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way heâ€™d been going when he was crawling here. â€œBut thatâ€™s 30 miles by the way the crow flies. Itâ€™s about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack.â€
Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. â€œGarden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?â€
â€œWell, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway,â€ said Nate. â€œHe figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a â€˜treeâ€™, offering â€˜temptationsâ€™, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while.â€
â€œGarden of Eden, hunh?â€ said Jack. â€œHow long have you been here, Nate?â€
â€œNo idea, really,â€ replied Nate. â€œA long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure itâ€™s been thousands of years, at least.â€
â€œSo, are you the snake that tempted Eve?â€ said Jack.
â€œBeats me,â€ said Nate. â€œMaybe. I canâ€™t remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a â€˜temptationâ€™, though Iâ€™ve rarely had refusals.â€
â€œWell, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?â€ asked Jack.
â€œDad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake – much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I donâ€™t remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. Iâ€™ve been here ever since.
â€œWhat is this place?â€ said Jack. â€œAnd what did he ask you to do?â€
â€œWell, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?â€ Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way.
â€œYou canâ€™t touch that yet, Jack,â€ said Nate.
â€œWhy not?â€ asked Jack.
â€œI havenâ€™t explained it to you yet,â€ replied Nate.
â€œWell, it kinda looks like a lever or something,â€ said Jack. â€œYouâ€™d push it that way, and it would move in the slot.â€
â€œYep, thatâ€™s what it is,â€ replied Nate.
â€œWhat does it do?â€ asked Jack. â€œEnd the world.â€
â€œOh, no,â€ said Nate. â€œNothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it â€˜The Lever of Doomâ€™.â€ For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned.
Jack was initially startled by Nateâ€™s pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. â€œHa! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?â€
â€œOh, it really ends humanity, like I said,â€ smirked Nate. â€œI just thought the voice I used was funny, didnâ€™t you?â€
Nate continued to grin.
â€œA lever to end humanity?â€ asked Jack. â€œWhat in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?â€
â€œWell,â€ replied Nate, â€œI get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. Iâ€™m not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why itâ€™s here. I didnâ€™t think to ask back when I started here.â€
â€œRules? What rules?â€ asked Jack.
â€œThe rules are that I canâ€™t tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. Thatâ€™s it.â€ explained Nate.
Jack looked somewhat shocked. â€œYou mean that I could pull the lever now? Youâ€™d let me end humanity?â€
â€œYep,â€ replied Nate, â€œif you want to.â€ Nate looked at Jack carefully. â€œDo you want to, Jack?â€
â€œUmm, no.â€ said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. â€œWhy in the world would anyone want to end humanity? Itâ€™d take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldnâ€™t it?â€
â€œYep,â€ replied Nate, â€œbeing as heâ€™d be human too.â€
â€œHas anyone ever seriously considered it?â€ asked Nate. â€œAny of those bound to secrecy, that is?â€
â€œWell, of course, I think theyâ€™ve all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so Iâ€™m told. Samuel considered it several times. Heâ€™d often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldnâ€™t be here.â€ Nate grinned some more.
Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, â€œSo this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?â€
â€œThat seems to be it,â€ agreed Nate.
â€œWhat kind of criteria do I use to decide?â€ said Jack. â€œHow do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if theyâ€™re good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that theyâ€™re going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?â€
â€œNope,â€ replied Nate. â€œYou pretty much just have to decide on your own. Itâ€™s up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that youâ€™re just supposed to know.â€
â€œBut what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldnâ€™t I make a mistake? How do I know that I wonâ€™t screw up?â€ protested Jack.
Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. â€œYou donâ€™t. You just have to try your best, Jack.â€
Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.
Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. â€œNate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?â€
â€œYep,â€ replied Nate. â€œHe was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago.â€
â€œSounds like a good guy,â€ agreed Jack. â€œHow did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?â€
â€œWell,â€ said Nate, â€œhe sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like youâ€™re doing.â€
â€œWhat did he ask you, if youâ€™re allowed to tell me?â€ asked Jack.
â€œHe asked me about the third request,â€ replied Nate.
â€œAha!â€ It was Jackâ€™s turn to grin. â€œAnd what did you tell him?â€
â€œI told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that youâ€™ll come here and end it. You wonâ€™t avoid it, and you wonâ€™t wimp out.â€ Nate looked serious again. â€œAnd youâ€™ll be bound to do it too, Jack.â€
â€œHmmm.â€ Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.
Nate watched him, waiting.
â€œNate,â€ continued Jack, quietly, eventually. â€œWhat did Samuel ask for with his third request?â€
Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, â€œWisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him.â€
â€œOk,â€ said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, â€œgive it to me.
Nate looked at Jackâ€™s backside. â€œGive you what, Jack?â€
â€œGive me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe itâ€™ll help me too.â€ Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. â€œIt did help him, right?â€
â€œHe said it did,â€ replied Nate. â€œBut he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about.â€
â€œWell, yeah, I can see that,â€ said Jack. â€œSo, give it to me.â€ Jack turned toface away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.
Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.
â€œYou remember that youâ€™ll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?â€ asked Nate, shifting position.
â€œYeah, yeah, I got that,â€ replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nateâ€™s voice.
â€œAnd,â€ continued Nate, from his new position, â€œdo you remember that youâ€™ll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?â€
â€œYeah, yeahâ€¦Hey, wait a minute!â€ said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. â€œPurple?!â€ He didnâ€™t see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.
Jack heard, from behind him, Nateâ€™s â€œJust Kidding!â€ right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.
Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where heâ€™d been recently bitten.
Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert nightâ€™s air the only sign that he was still awake.
Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.
â€œNate, do accidents count?â€
Nate lifted his head a little bit. â€œWhat do you mean, Jack?â€
Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. â€œYou know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?â€
â€œYeah, Iâ€™m pretty sure it does, Jack. Iâ€™d suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly,â€ said Nate with some amusement.
A little later – â€œDoes it have to be me that pulls the lever?â€ asked Jack.
â€œThatâ€™s the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it,â€ answered Nate.
â€œNo,â€ Jack shook his head, â€œI meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?â€
â€œYes, those should work,â€ replied Nate. â€œThough Iâ€™m not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything heâ€™d build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldnâ€™t be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared.â€
â€œWow,â€ said Jack, â€œCool.â€ Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky.
â€œNate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?â€ asked Jack.
â€œYes,â€ replied Nate, â€œit was. He lived 167 years, Jack.â€
â€œWow, 167 years. Thatâ€™s almost 140 more years Iâ€™ll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?â€
â€œHe died of getting tired of living, Jack,â€ Nate said, sounding somewhat sad.
Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.
Nate looked back. â€œSamuel knew he wasnâ€™t going to be able to stay in society. He figured that theyâ€™d eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that heâ€™d have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind – he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasnâ€™t very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.
â€œHis daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didnâ€™t stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me heâ€™d had enough. It was his time.â€
â€œAnd then he just died?â€ asked Jack.
Nate shook his head a little. â€œHe made his forth request, Jack. Thereâ€™s only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.
After a bit Nate continued, â€œHe told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had.
After another pause, Nate finished, â€œSamuelâ€™s body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise.â€
Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jackâ€™s breathing evened out into sleep.
Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasnâ€™t willing to eat raw desert rat.
So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that heâ€™d be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nateâ€™s good directions, he made it back easily.
Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nateâ€™s lever, though their path back didnâ€™t come within sight of it.
Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate.
Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasnâ€™t unheard of, and shouldnâ€™t really raise suspicions.
Jack had brought more books for Nate – recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that heâ€™d be back again soon, but that he had things to do first.
Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him – a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite.
After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly – at least once or twice a year.
After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he â€˜d been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didnâ€™t seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school.
Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings.
But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.
On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jackâ€™s best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadnâ€™t been able to replace Samuel in Nateâ€™s eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didnâ€™t even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nateâ€™s silence, sat down and waited.
After a few minutes, Nate spoke. â€œJack, I have someone to introduce you to.â€
Jack looked surprised. â€œSomeone to introduce me to?â€ Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. â€œThis something to do with the Big Guy?
â€œNo, no,â€ replied Nate. â€œThis is more personal. I want you to meet my son.â€ Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. â€œSammy!â€
Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever.
â€œYo, Jack,â€ said the new, much smaller snake.
â€œYo, Sammyâ€ replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. â€œNamed after Samuel, I assume?â€
Nate nodded. â€œJack, Iâ€™ve got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?â€ Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. â€œWhen Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance – to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.
â€œHeâ€™s seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that itâ€™s not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?â€
Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didnâ€™t even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. â€œYeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?â€ Jack could sense that was something more.
Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, â€œOh, yeah. Ummm, Iâ€™ve gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!â€ Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.
Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. â€œJack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You donâ€™t even want to know what it took for me to find a mate.â€ Nate grinned to himself. â€œBut anyway, I had a son for a reason. Iâ€™m tired. Iâ€™m ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement.â€
Jack considered this for a minute. â€œSo, youâ€™re ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?â€
Nate shook his head. â€œNo, Jack – youâ€™re a better guesser than that. Youâ€™ve already figured out – Iâ€™m bound here – thereâ€™s only one way for me to leave here. And Iâ€™m ready. Itâ€™s my time to die.â€
Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this – probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuelâ€™s decision, and now Nateâ€™s. So, all Jack said was, â€œWhat do you want me to do?â€
Nate nodded. â€œThanks, Jack. I only want two things. One – show Sammy around the world – let him get his fill of it, until heâ€™s ready to come back here and take over. Two – give me the fourth request.
â€œI canâ€™t just decide to die, not any more than you can. I wonâ€™t even die of old age like you eventually will, even though itâ€™ll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, Iâ€™ll be able to die. And I need you to kill me.
â€œIâ€™ve even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs wonâ€™t work on me. And Iâ€™ve seen pictures of snakes that were shot – some of them live for days, so thatâ€™s out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.
Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. â€œIâ€™d say an axe, but thatâ€™s somewhat undignified – putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me.
â€œYou willing to do that for me, Jack?â€ Nate turned back to look at Jack.
â€œYeah, Nate,â€ replied Jack solemnly, â€œI think I can handle that.â€
Nate nodded. â€œGood!â€ He turned back toward the dune and shouted, â€œSammy! Jackâ€™s about ready to leave!â€ Then quietly, â€œThanks, Jack.â€
Jack didnâ€™t have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following. Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general.
When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. Heâ€™d come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didnâ€™t want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.
So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didnâ€™t have a foot) and told Jack that it was time – he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, heâ€™d learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate.
When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.
When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when heâ€™d met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didnâ€™t really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but heâ€™d forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. Theyâ€™d either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.
As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that heâ€™d go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight.
Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.
Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didnâ€™t really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that heâ€™d decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jackâ€™s driving.
As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune – the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but heâ€™d gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side.
Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didnâ€™t have enough traction. He pumped the brakes – no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster.
Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down – the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didnâ€™t do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity.
Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasnâ€™t working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever – he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever – he wouldnâ€™t have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away.
Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit – every little bit would help. Heâ€™d have to time his turn just right.
The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadnâ€™t seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasnâ€™t wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side.
Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing.
Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, â€œBETTER NATE THAN LEVER,â€ he ran over the snake.