Sickening

      The sun was beginning to rise over the bleak expanse of desert. The small pool of water that Damien had found the night before would soon evaporate. Cacti could not support the man for much longer; he had already been lost in this wasteland for two days, or longer. Damien grabbed his hat, which he had fashioned from an old newspaper blowing in the wind, and placed it on his head. He filled his belly with water from the shallow pool and soaked his button up shirt in the cool liquid. He would have to find relief soon, or he would die within a few hours.

      It was his fault; most everything was. He just did not know when to stop gambling. The fight scene was growing in Las Vegas, and there was plenty of money to be made. There was also plenty of money to be lost. Damien was twenty-five grand in debt with the Suarez brothers. It was a small wonder they had even let him live, but wandering through the nothingness of sand and heat was better than dying. He had to find help eventually.

       Damien pushed on through the desert, cursing his god as he trudged through the ankle deep sand. There was no way for him to stop sobbing, and he even thought himself that he sounded like a fool. The sun was a quarter of the way over the horizon now, and Damien’s whole body was on the brink of collapsing. His body moved in lurches and stumbles. He was doomed to wander the desert like a brainless zombie. Damien’s throat was well beyond parched to a point that it felt like dust. His tongue felt like a sandpaper covered rock; it felt foreign to his mouth. The man had actually contemplated cutting it off. Damien just figured it would help him to breathe easier, but he really had no means to do it.

      Suddenly, Damien could hear the sound of water. The noise of a flowing stream filled his head, and it was pure rapture. Damien was drunk in the sound of life. Bliss filled Damien as he giggled with excitement. He just might make it out of the desert alive, after all. With a new pep to his step, Damien continued over the next sandy hill.

      There it was; the most beautiful thing Damien had ever seen in his god forsaken life. A tiny, gentle stream was gurgling its way through the sun baked sand. The edge of the stream was dry and crackled, but the center harvested gorgeous sparkling water. Saliva sprang to life in Damien’s mouth at the site of the water, and for a moment he didn’t even think he could get there fast enough. Stumbling through the deep sand, Damien reached the stream within a few minutes.  

      When he did get there, Damien gorged himself on the life-saving stream. There was no describing the feeling of water touching his tongue. It did little do repair his damaged throat, but the feeling of cool water rushing over his wounds was heavenly. Damien’s tongue soaked up the water like a deprived sponge. The water tasted like blood.

      Something strange started happening to Damien moments after he had finished filling his belly with the pleasant stream. He started to feel sick, and his vision was blurred. His whole head felt fuzzy. What was happening to him? Abruptly, Damien doubled over and vomited out all the water he had consumed. It was a terrible feeling for Damien, and he was left heaving in the fetal position. Blood specked the water that he sprawled over the rocky ground. It was torture. His belly ached from the heaving, and the dizziness he’d felt walking through the desert had increased tenfold. Damien was doubled over on the ground, and the heat of the sand was burning his expose skin. Damien continued vomiting blood profusely as he slowly died. He had consumed too much water at one time, and essentially drowned himself in his salvation. One final though crossed Damien’s mind as he died; at least those stupid motherfucking Suarez brothers won’t get another dime out of me.