The Bro Code

Three Lawrences of Arabia

23: Hannibal: Three Lawrences of Arabia

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The scorching hot rays from the sun were overwhelming. The sweat dripping off my neck could nourish an entire African village. My feet were sore from endless hours of walking. My sunburn was worse than ever - blisters the size of apricots were dotting my face and neck and arms, and the redness of my usually pale skin was terrifying.

Bryan and Alfie were almost in the same state as me, though they weren't the ones that had been lying unconscious for one day straight in the hot African sun, being slowly toasted to death without knowing it yesterday. Still, I feared for them. I feared for all of us.

My mouth was sandpaper. We had barely any water left, and we started out with three large jugs we salvaged from the plane wreckage. We had only a day's supply of food left, because Alfie insisted that since he was two to three years older than us he needed more nutrients.

Since we set out for a town or village yesterday, my thoughts have slowly increased in consuming my entire mind out here in the vast, merciless red sand. I started thinking heavily of home. Of our country-styled kitchen which always smelled like Starbucks and always had a loaf of bread or a baker's dozen of my mom's signature blueberry mountain muffins baking in the overused oven. I thought about my eight other siblings. How Hamlet, my thirteen - now almost fourteen - year old sister must have already raced through ten books by now. I longed so bad to see her again. I thought of my dad who worked from home, and how he never really got in anyone's business and was always open minded. Him and my mom were into the hippie kind of lifestyle, hence their nine kids at the age of 34.

I thought of my friend Ray. And I thought of how I was supposed to be taking my driver's test sometime this month. I wondered if any of them, my mom and dad and eight brothers and sisters and Ray, would ever be seeing me again. The thought depressed the shit out of me, but somehow I couldn't banish it from my mind.

It was all I could do not to go insane.

It was all I could do not to collapse in the fiery sand and let the sun cook me alive, or let a poisonous lizard bite me. It was all I could do to not lash out at Bryan and Alfie, who had barely anyone in their lives, barely anyone they'd be thinking about at this point. Bryan had no siblings, and was adopted. He never spoke of his non biological parents, so I got the drift he didn't fancy them much, and he's never met his biological ones. He says they were murdered.

Alfie, on the other hand, had no family he's spoken of, besides a club-crawling older sister. I knew he must have a mom or dad, just maybe they weren't that involved in his life. He did own his own apartment in London, after all, and he told me his folks lived in Southampton. So I've come to the conclusion that I was jealous of them.

And I didn't really know why. I was jealous because they had barely anyone who would be worrying about them at home. Jealous that if they got hurt during this journey, no one would care less back at home, so they didn't have that burden on their shoulders. They could just die whenever they liked, and no one would give two shits. Except me.

I knew it was a horrible thought. I shouldn't be thinking like that. Of course people cared about them. Bryan's parents cared about him enough to adopt him. Alfie's parents cared about him enough to buy him an apartment in London and pay his tuition fee to the University of London. So I couldn't really be jealous that they didn't have to worry about hurting the ones they loved. Because obviously, they were worrying.

The sun was going down.

"Guys," said Bryan hoarsely, his throat obviously parched. "Let's find somewhere to sleep."