Time passed without observance. Jack woke in a bed covered by an old patchwork quilt. He felt filthy, as if he had broken a fever and had not showered in weeks. On the battered nightstand next to him was some water and towels. He had no idea how long he had been asleep or any clue as to where he was. He tried to recollect what had happened, but it too seemed like a dream in which he could grasp the sentiment but not the action. His head ached and his muscles screamed as he tried to sit up.
Jack tracked his memories. He remembered driving out into the desert, the car dying. He remembered the spider. How could he forget that? He remembered someone carrying Laura to a horse and taking off.
Laura!
He jumped to his feet despite the pain and opened the bedroom door. Laura sat at a small table in a large room that served as a kitchen and living area. She stared back at him from her plate of pancakes with a look of shock.
“Jack! You’re awake!” she said as she ran to him. “Here, let’s get some clothes on you.”
He was still too weak in the head to have noticed his nakedness, but didn’t resist her as she pushed him back into the bedroom. She sat him on the bed and grabbed his clothes.
“A cabin. This man found us and carried us here. We thought you’d never wake up.”
“How long?”
“Four days. Your fever was high. It broke last night and you took a little food.”
“Who is he?”
“Just some sweet old-timer. He calls himself Boots.” She smiled. “He’s got these old leather boots that tap the floor like Gregory Hines. I’m not sure what his real name is.”
He slumped back on the bed after she pushed his shirt over his head. “I feel like garbage.”
“Come on out and eat something. You need to get your strength back.”
Sitting at the table, Jack forced down a pancake. His throat was swollen and his cracked lips bled a little when he tried to chew. He glanced at Laura, who looked little worse for wear by the whole ordeal.
“So where is this guy?”
“He stepped outside about half an hour ago. He said he’d be back soon.”
Jack glanced around the cabin. It was something out of a photo shoot for White Trash Living. There was no power that he could see. Candles sat in the middle of the table and in sconces on the wall. The kitchen had a single iron tub with a hand pump water faucet. No TV. No telephone.
“This guy doesn’t believe in modern living?”
“I don’t think so. Doesn’t even have a car. Just an old horse. But that horse saved our lives.”
“I bet,” Jack said, still looking around. “Did he go to get help?”
“I don’t think so. I think he just went to get some food for today.”
“Hmph.”
Jack thought back to the highway. To the feeling of being pulled from the car and poured over the back of an animal. Somewhere in his mind he could feel the sensation of a slow trot and the clicking of hooves, the smell of horse hair and dust. He had no idea how long the walk was, just as he had no idea of how long he had slept. He stared back at Laura, who had a look of contentment on her face.
“You having fun yet?” he asked sarcastically.
“Bunches,” she said with a slight grin. “We are very lucky, Jack. We could be dead right now . . .”
“Because of me?”
“If it wasn’t for Boots. He saved us.”
“Yeah.”
“Jack,” she whispered, “we are lucky.”
He dropped his eyes to the plate. He had almost killed them both, driving into solitude just for curiosity’s sake. Jack could see Laura listless in the passenger seat, slowly edging toward death, the result of him wanting to be “John Wayne for the day.” That phrase was now eternally etched in his mind. How could he ever forgive himself? How could he come to grips with the fact that he wasn’t an adventurer, just a desk jockey whose only skill was punching a time card? He felt like a failure before her. Emasculated. Weak.
“It’s all right, we’re okay now,” she whispered as she reached across the table for his hand.
He let her take it. He hated her at that moment. Laura, the benefactress of his ambition, the one who looked up to him, offering comfort to his brokenness. He hated his whole life in one fell swoop. His mind racing, he almost wished he had died in that car. He let the rage pass before he looked up at her, but before he could speak, the front door opened and Boots walked in.