Desert sands
Michael stands before the man who's covered in sweat and reeks of fear. The sun scorches the sand for miles in every direction. Unrecognizable scrap lying in piles half-buried in the sand, scattered about behind the rusted, chain link fence like the toys of a child who has long since outgrown them. The man slouches in a futile attempt at separating himself from Michael. This action revels a doll, just beyond the fence, it's hair sun-bleached white. The glass eyes, the color of early spring grass, of budding leaves, stark against the grey landscape and the faded skin of the dolls burlap face, gaze through his soul, paralyzing him. It was her.
"Hey, man. I don't know nothin' 'bout this girl yer speaking of."
"Don't play stupid with me. You know very well that I'll kill you if you don't speak." The man looked away. His guilt was obvious and he knew it. Michael needed to change his tactics."there's no shame in it. Just tell the truth." Asked Michael, kindly. He crouched down, too, trying to seem more friendly.
"Alright man, but, I want you to promise me that I can go if I tell you."
"You have my word" said Michael. Drop, Michael's 200 pound, 36 year old German Shepard, whose been his inseparable companion since before his first birthday, gave him a curious glance.
"She's at our camp, six miles due south of hear. Last I heard she was alive..." He kept talking, but the harsh desert winds carried his words away into the void. "So, can I go" asked the man, after a moment of silence.
"We had a deal, and I honor my word." As the man went to stand up, however, Drop took a step forwards and blocked his path. He then looked over towards Michael, his eyes spoke for him.
"This man cannot be allowed to leave. Letting him do so would seal your daughters fate for good."
"We made a deal, Drop, I have to let him leave. Please move from his way."
"What's going on" asked the man
"Shut up" snapped Michael. Drop turned to face the man, and let out a barley audible growl from deep within his chest. "Is that what you really think We should do?" Drop gave a slight nod of his head. "Alright, but I don't want to be cleaning any blood off your fur tonight, ok?"
"Fair enough"
There wasn't even time for the man to so much as get on his feet before 200 pounds of pure muscle was atop him. As Michael turned to walk away, the air stilled, the wind quieted, the dust settled, and with disturbing clarity, Michael heard the mans life end at the hands of his guardian angel.
"Jane, stop. Jane, please listen to me..."
"No! I'm done listening, I'm done following rules. I'm going to live my life how I want to live it. Not how you think I should."
"Jane, your only 17."
"That was old enough for you to have a baby, dad."
"Please, don't do this."
"I'm sorry dad, I really am. But I'm leaving." She turned to gaze upon her father. They met eyes, and, just for a moment, her striking green eyes softened, and the stress lines on her forehead eased, she was at peace with her decision. She picked up her suitcase and stormed out of the room, leaving behind the scent of desert wildflowers. The front door slammed shut for what would be the last time. Michael found himself hours later still staring at the door, her picture clutched in his hand.
He woke with a start. Cold sweat on his brow. Drop, standing guard over Michael, leant his ear should he wish to talk about the very obvious nightmare he had just experienced.
