I sit bolt upright and realise, by the grey light, that it’s around dawn. I feel the hairs on my arms prickling. The sound was so close. It was like someone was being murdered.
I hope it was just Walid having a bad dream. Then I look around and see him leaning over Marge. Even though I feel scared, I almost laugh because he still hasn’t taken the jocks off his head. I see Marge kicking her legs. What is he doing? Then I hear a gurgling sound and I breathe in the smell of something so sweet it’s sickly. And strong. It makes me cough.
Walid grins at me, and jumps up. He’s trying to give me a hi-five like he’s done something wonderful.
‘Oh God, you’ve got blood all over your hands!’
‘I have killed the goat as we agreed last night, and now we will have a good feast today,’ I am telling him.
But Ad-am is looking very scared and then, suddenly, he screams at me and starts crying like a bint for the life of this goat.
But why? He agreed that we must kill the goat. Because I know he is soft with this animal, I was thinking to kill it before he wakes. Now he is acting crazy.
‘That’s it!’ I scream at him. ‘You’re nothing but a little murderer, and as far as I’m concerned you can look after yourself from now on.’
Now I can understand why someone tied him up and dumped him. I feel like slitting his throat. But I can’t even touch the knife. Not after what he did with it. It’s covered in blood and hair.
All I want to do is get away from him and away from Marge’s staring, glazed eyes. She’s lying there with her head twisted up at an unnatural angle and that horrible gaping area around her neck like a wide open mouth with blood gushing out.
‘Leave me alone!’ I scream at him.
I’ve been running and running and I’m starting to feel sick. And it’s too hot to stay angry. It takes too much energy and I need all I’ve got to climb these ridges. I’ve decided that after I find my backpack, it’ll be best to go back to the pool. There’s nothing else to do. I’ll need to make sure the water bottle is full before I head off. I don’t know when I’ll be able to fill it up again. I can’t count on storms every day, although I’m hoping some of the wadis might have water in them now. Besides, it’s too hot to travel for long today and I don’t want to end up like I did yesterday. I’m going to try and rest up and do double the kilometres tonight.
I don’t care what Walid does. As far as I’m concerned he’s on his own – though I bet he tries to follow me anyway. I suppose it’s better. At least I can see what he’s up to.
I just don’t understand. Last night at the pool, I thought we were starting to be friends, but how could I ever trust him now?
‘Please let this be the right valley,’ I pray out loud, as I make my way up the slope. I’ve done more praying in the last twenty-four hours than I’ve done for years. God’s giving me a hard time, though, because not much is working out. I reach the crest of the slope and look down into the dry, bare valley.
‘Please let me see the backpack.’
I can see it okay. The orange and green colours certainly make it easy to pick out. But I can’t believe where it is.
It’s like a bad joke. And the joke’s on me because my bag is not on the ground where I left it. It’s in the back of a Toyota truck that’s bumping over rocks and swerving around the thorny trees as it speeds out of the valley.
As I watch, it disappears in a cloud of dust.