I let Gray walk off over the mountains before I started following him. I made sure that I was always just out of his sight before continuing on to the next pass. It was obvious that the Bushman was looking for something, but I’m wasn’t sure what. I tracked him for hours, seemingly walking in circles through sandy hills. There’s nothing out here but brush, rocks, and cacti.
Normally, I would have been up to follow Gray all day. Unfortunately, I am not a smart man. I had spent most of the day walking uphill, in the desert, while wearing insulated pants and a long sleeve shirt. At the time, I didn’t even think about taking them off. Not to mention that all of my food and water had been stolen. I developed a horrific pounding headache and it felt like I had been gargling sand.
As the sun dipped below the valley wall, my whole body felt shaky. I was stumbling about on my hands and knees, too weak to turn back. I just hoped that Gray would find me and lend me a sip of water before I turned into a piece of jerky. I crawled as far as I could, making my way over one last hill. Before I passed out, I saw Gray sitting cross legged in a cactus field, his back turned to me. I tried to cry out, but my voice was just a raspy squeak.
I woke up to strange noises coming from ahead. It was too dark to see, but it sounded like shifting sand. I was helpless to do anything. All I could do was look straight ahead and clutch at the dirt.
Cast against the moonlight, I could make out figures surrounding Gray on all sides. I could tell they weren’t human. Their silhouettes were elongated, almost uncanny in their proportions. One stretched out a hand to the Bushman. Its palm was teardrop shaped while its fingers were short, fat, and stubby. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I dipped my head into the dirt and nodded off again.