Goblin Valley

We didn’t mean to linger, but the desert has a way of luring you.

Our day trip stretched into the afternoon. Then, three hours into wandering, Jack finally admitted we were lost. Cell reception didn’t work this far south, and someone must have stolen our car. What else could explain its absence? Everything looked the same in the desert, but I knew we parked beside that particular mesa. If we hadn’t, then we’d been walking in the sun longer than I thought.

Jack scowled at the orange beast sinking beneath the horizon, burning the sand to red and gold.

I leaned against the rocks in the shade, shivering at the sudden chill of the stone. “Let’s just get some rest. We can try again tomorrow. At least we have our sleeping bags in our packs.”

It took a bit more coaxing, but Jack settled down with me, cuddling into our blankets and sleeping bags. Nothing about this trip was as I’d expected — not the odd loneliness of the roads lacking even bones, nor the way time escaped us. This unfortunate development was the worst so far. At least I had him, though.

As the sun’s light rolled away, the stars glittered above us like pinpricks in midnight velvet. At some point, I fell asleep, and Jack was gone.

I called out to him. His pack was still beside me, his blankets unmoved. My heart crawled into my head, into my ears, as I tried not to panic.

“Jack?”

Silence. Only the stars and their great hovering moon looked down at me, glazing the sand in silver dawn.

Behind me, I heard a rustling.

“…Jack?”

Not behind me. Underneath me.

I thought I heard the sound of laughter, almost like children. Then the land opened and swallowed me whole.