The sun was setting as we drove across the hills of the Mojave desert. The climate has changed drastically since the Rockies - unrecognizable. It is the kind of change that makes everything that has happened before as clear as fog and the heat is so overpowering it is like I haven't ever known anything else. The wind beat on the car and the radio echoed softly in the background. I was sitting with my feet propped on the dash with a bandanna gathering sweat above my brow. We were soaked and the sun was exploding on the horizon line. We drove next to cliffs and into valleys, dry grass and plants scattered sparse as far as I could see. Nothing was taller than a few feet and looking at the dry brown color my throat felt dry and I sipped one of our last waters and looked at Domenic with concern. The excitement of this trip has faded. It isn't that we are bored, but having traversed more than half of the country less is left to the imagination, or at least the unknown. The feeling now is a false sense of understanding, a wisdom that doesn't exist except in our egos. A feeling of accomplishment though we have yet to accomplish anything.
Domenic was sitting in the backseat chewing on beef jerky in the heat. He was moving his mouth slowly, as if retiring to the weight of the day, in no rush, with no intentions. He was wearing aviator sunglasses and a cotton plaid shirt unbuttoned exposing a discolored undershirt with cargo shorts and untied hiking boots. We were all dirty. Covered in a film that almost felt normal and the thought of cleanliness was foreign and intimidating, "I feel disgusting but I like it," said Domenic nearly echoing my thoughts.
Brandon smiled, staring off towards the high cliffs now partially blotting the sun, "I like it too. I feel so far away from myself, I have been so lost in thought the last few hours. How far 'til Mead?"
"We are close, but I guess the driving gets slow up ahead."
The day was collapsing quickly like a tent, being propped up by only the stiffness of the sun and stubbornness of the heat. Climbing up a hill we reached the crest and the lake shimmered in the fading light and the heat. It looked inviting and dead - still - like the desert it entertained the notion of mystery despite more than anything a lack of something.
We had passed the last town before the park nearly forty minutes ago and had not stopped to buy alcohol or wood. We were frustrated when we realized this, but around the lake there were a few buildings that held promise. We slowed and pulled into a parking lot in front of a shabby hotel that seemed to be the center of civilization in the barren land and Brandon parked the car. I got out and strolled slowly, stiff from the drive, towards the doors. The day was gone but the night had not yet arrived. Once again, we would be setting up camp in the dark.
"Let's just stay here for like a week. I'm so tired of driving and breaking down camp and doing it all over again. Let's just do nothing for a few days." We all nodded in a subordinate agreement. Exhaustion wasn't the word to describe the feeling in my bones. It wasn't exhaustion. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't exhaustion. I suppose it was something like the string of sentences preceding this one, some kind of shrug of the shoulders and a concession to never understand.
As we walked towards the hotel a man in a white security pick up slowed down next to us and rolled down his window, "What can I do you for?" he said.
In the fading light he was difficult to make out. He had a thick black mustache and it was lighter than his skin. He was thin, and he had a soft face which I trusted immediately.
"Anywhere we can buy wood this time of night?"
"Firewood?"
"Yes."
"Well, damn now. You see the general store around the corner shuts down after dark. I don't know if you could catch it before the doors close. I got a friend who has got his own wood pile, lemme go swing through there see if I can help you guys out. As for the booze? Sorry fellas. They only sell that for four hours during the day."
The man smiled and his teeth were violently white in the dark. He looked younger than he was. I didn't expect anything but an interrogation when he pulled up but he seemed more willing to help before hello's were formally exchanged. His shirt was clean but old. It was just a plain t shirt with a thin plastic badge denoting his position. It was placed perfectly above his heart and although he was driving a Ford from the late 1980's it looked brand new.
Brandon went inside because there was free coffee. I walked away across the parking lot. I needed to stretch. My legs felt like firecrackers. I lit a Marlboro and walked into the grey blue towards the last strip of pink hovering above the cliff line in the distance. There was still light but I couldn't see ten feet in front of me. It was murky and the air had weight like cloth. There was no sound, no wind, nothing. It was just dead air and my heart slowed. The night was purple now and then black. I saw headlights turn the corner and let the smoke fester in my lungs. I turned back towards the hotel and walked - there were a few lights in the parking lot and the halogen was burning and heating slowly, creating a false orb that didn't offer any relief from the night. I walked towards the truck. It was idling and shaking rumbling barely audible in the night. I blew the smoke and saw it twist and twirl in the headlights and then disappear, so we do.
"Any luck?"
"Yeah, check it out in the back."
I pressed my forearms on the top of the bed and threw my gut against the side of the truck. I squinted in the dark and saw a few loose bundles of wood.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. You didn't spect me to drive all out of my way to not help you out," he chuckled lightly, "hold out your arms I'll start the stacking."
I followed his directions blindly and I could feel a rush of water behind my eyes. My back tingled and I don't know where I am or what I thought I was looking for but I am who I am and who I am is because of everyone else - everything else. He couldn't notice in the dark and after the wood was stacked I turned and walked briskly to the car. Brandon and Domenic came outside to help. We found a way to fit it in and I turned to face the man.
"Thanks. I don't know why you just did that, but I appreciate it."
"Of course, I'll be around later so if you need more flag me down, maybe I'll swing by for a beer."
"If we had some," Domenic smiled.
"We have whiskey," said Brandon reaching behind the seat and pulling a half full bottle in the haze of the heat.
"What is your name, sir?"
"Phillip."
"Phillip. Nice to meet you, Phillip. I'm William. This is Brandon and Domenic."
"Nice to meet you."
"You have been a big help, actually made my night."
"I aim to please."
"This man aims to please," said Domenic.
"Thanks again."
"Not a problem. Don't act so surprised. There ain't nothin' to do around here. Don't flatter yourself. That whole wood thing was out of sheer boredom nothing else." He smiled and his teeth shimmered. We laughed and shook hands. I walked away with a jog waving into the blinding light and squinting as I got in the car. We drove away to find a camp. I never saw him again.
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