Mirage

As he opened his eyes he saw the iridescence of prism colours and in the middle heliotrope the sun balling into a fuzzy murderous stare. He had been out in the desert for two days. He had run out of water this morning and for the last few hours all he could manage was to crawl through the clean, soft sand that lay in wait to claim his bones. 

 His light aircraft, already sacrificed to the sand god, lay wrecked with what seemed like thousands but was probably tens of miles behind him. Every bit of his body yearned for liquid. His sandpaper throat cracked like an old painting. Every breath upon dry lungs felt like coarse air was scratching him from inside. He didn’t know how long he had left, but he knew it wasn't long. The memory of water hurt- and his shame that he had ever taken it for granted. He would give all the lives of his loved ones, every dime he had, his eyes and ears for just one glug now. 

 He collapsed in the sand. The fine dust clung to his face and perversely the little spittle that was left in the corners of his mouth. “Time to give up” he thought.

But No. He must try. If there was the tiniest iota of will power or energy left in him he must try. He summoned everything and lifted his head. Just one last dune. He crawled for five minutes until he had topped the next dune. Everything he had he put into this effort. 

Then as he crested the dune he saw it. A dark shadow just on the edge of the horizon. Some sort of tower, or maybe a post in the ground. Something. Something casting a long shadow. Something to give him hope. 

He felt renewed and suddenly there was a fresh reserve of energy. Moving as quickly as he could but still not managing to get fully upright he clamoured towards the anomoly. As he got closer he saw that it was a circular structure with a tall prominarty in the middle. Like a satellite dish or… No, I couldn't be. 

He sped up and his eyes confirmed. It was an old fashioned water fountain. The type he had walked ignorantly past in city centres many times. How could it be? Did it matter? He could now see the sun was making dancing light motes on the surface of something pouring from the top. Liquid. 

His thoughts froze. He could not believe it. An Oasis. Just when he needed it. Who would have thought? Then he had a terrible thought. The idea sank into his soul deeply like a cold knife. 

It was a Mirage. He knew it. Of course the brain tricked the body into seeing these things when it was absolutely at its desperate wits end. He closed his eyes, hoping upon hope and then opened them again and sure enough, it was gone. Now the water came- just a speck of what remained in his eye.

“no…NO” he screamed. But the water washed his eyes and as the blur cleared he stood astonished to see that he had been doubly mistaken. The fountain was there. The fountain was real. 

He ran. Almost fully upright. He splashed into the water and drank. He drank so splendiferously and so deeply. He lay in the water. He cried and splashed and gurgled. His thirst disappearing like an ocean tide, his belly full. 

Around the side of the fountain small hatches opened quietly in the sand. Pairs of eyes peered out of each one. 

The Mattos licked their sharp teeth. A human had yet to see one of them. They were the thing of myths and legends. And they liked their food to be nicely hydrated and squishy. It made tearing into the flesh so much more pleasurable.

They advanced.