I know What You Ate Last Summer

It’s been 2 days since I last saw Sarah.  I went searching for firewood to no avail.  Ten minutes later and I’m lost.   I wandered for hours, hollering her name.  Only owls and crickets returned my calls. 

Who knew the desert could get so cold?  A one day backpacking trip together through Joshua Tree.  What a nightmare.  One hell of a first date.  Is she looking for me?  Did she find her way back?  Did she find help?  

I hope she’s ok.  She’s a beautiful girl – clever, kind, athletic.  Perfect, almost - just before our hike, she stuck a meatloaf sandwich into my pack and told me to get over it.  Disgusting.  Could I love someone that feasts on flesh?  Could she learn to live without it?  

Thank god I’ve found water.  A small spring surrounded by sand, bugs and thorns.  I’ve heard it’s best to stay put when lost.  Wait to be found.  Save energy. Sit with the ants.  

I’m terribly sunburned and hungry.  I've eaten all the food I brought – granola, organic string cheese, dried fruit, and an avocado and sprouts sandwich.  All that remains is Sarah's loaf of ground calf, coated with blood-red sauce and pinned between sourdough. 

I’d move on from this water hole if I had the strength.  I've resorted to gnawing on cacti and josua trees.  I dig for roots like a wild pig.  

I’m barely conscious.  I lay half way submerged in water, burnt from head to toe.  I struggle to gaze upon my pack.  My fingers tremble as I reach inside, pulling out the remainder of Sarah’s sweaty sandwich.   All that's left is the patty.  

My throat gags.  I close my eyes.  Tears run down my face.  I pull the patty close to my chapped lips.  My tongue reluctantly reaches for it.  I begin to sob.  My stomach shudders as I lick off the last of the tomato sauce.  My chest heaves.  I can wait no longer.                                                                                     

I sink my teeth in and begin to scream.