Love Saved (3 page)

T
he heat was otherworldly
. It was as if flames were licking out of a mythical door to hell, burning into one's very soul. Oren had done plenty of traveling, camping, and extreme sports. However, this was his first time to the Sahara, and he had never truly grasped just how immense and all-consuming the sun would be as it rolled through the sky. It turned the sand molten, and he seemed to be slowly baking into human jerky with every step.

"This is terrible," he gritted out, stopping for the fifth time that hour to clean sand and dust off of his aviator sunglasses. They had been incredibly expensive and guaranteed to be scratch-proof. And they had been for about thirty minutes until the wind picked up and threw grit everywhere.

"Are you sure I can't help wrap your head?" Kirk asked, his voice muffled underneath the full head and face wrap he had made up from a long scarf. The only part of his body visible was his eyes, which were bright with concern.

"No, it looks like I’ll just get steamy and sweaty in there," Oren grumbled. "Besides, my company has worked for months on this sun-repellent hat. How would it look if I chose to throw it away in favor of a four-dollar strip of cloth wrapped around me?"

Kirk looked to his left for a long second, then looked to his right. Finally, he turned to Oren and threw his arms out dramatically.

"And who exactly is going to know? I have grown up around this desert, as did my father and his father. We didn't need expensive hats to survive, and our four-dollar cloth works very well, thank you." He turned around sharply and began to walk again, not bothering to look back.

"Shit," Oren muttered, knowing he had once again managed to stick his foot in his mouth.

He just didn't know how to talk to Kirk. What was he supposed to say?
"Oh, nice day we’re having. The sun sure seems extra toasty right now. Let's talk about how we almost died in a fiery plane crash again."

But if he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't just Kirk he couldn't talk to. Oren couldn't remember the last time he had a normal conversation. He worked constantly, leaving him with no time for music, friends, or hobbies. He talked stock options, production schedules, and business plans. Beyond that, he quickly floundered. Throw in a near-death experience? He might as well give up before even trying.

Giving up wasn’t something he did, though. "Hey, wait!" he called, rushing forward as much as his exhausted legs would allow.

Kirk paused, his shoulders held high in impatience. He didn't bother to turn around.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to insult anyone. It's hard for me to think about anything except my business."

Kirk sighed and turned around, his face laced with anger. "I've noticed. Do you know you never once asked how I was after waking up? I tended to your injuries, looked after you, took your verbal abuse. You never showed any concern!"

Oren's mouth hung open, and he struggled to find a response. "I...well..."

"Oh, I'm sure you accepted it as normal. I'm just another employee, right? Just another person to bow and shuffle around you in deference? Is that how you see the rest of humanity? We're all apparently just to be bought and sold, discarded when our usefulness comes to an end."

"That is not how I see people! I expect a lot from those I work with, but its nothing I don't put on myself." Oren's voice was rising with every word, and he felt a rush of blood to his face. "And I certainly didn't think Steve and Doug deserved to be discarded!"

At the names of his deceased bodyguards, Kirk flinched, pain flashing across his face and leaving him looking even more tired than he did before. The words hung heavy in the air between them, drowning them both in silence.

"Shit," Oren broke at last, running a hand through his hair. The look in Kirk's eyes was cutting him through to the core. "I know you didn't mean for it to happen."

Kirk nodded, his lips still tight. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not doing more for them," he said at last.

"There is nothing to forgive. This is all an accident. A terrible, terrible accident. I know that, you know that. I'm sorry I haven't been handling it well. I'm not out of control very often, as you can probably tell, and it’s all been somewhat of a shock for me." Oren sighed and looked out over the sands. "Listen, the reason I can only think about work is that it quite literally the only thing I do. It is why I get up in the morning, and what fuels me throughout the day. Being the best, making the most money - this is just who I am. For most people, that might seem odd, but clinging to work and getting back to those responsibilities has kept me going through this."

"I accept your apology," Kirk said softly. "And I'm sorry for the loss of your friends. I understand how you feel, partly. I too am clinging to my job to get through this. Being a pilot is my greatest joy, but with the death of your friends on my hands, I don’t think I deserve to experience that happiness again. I can’t stop thinking about them, with every step."

"Me too."

"But I still have one passenger. I will make sure he is saved."

Kirk had a fire in his eyes that Oren had seen before. Usually, it was in the face of the elite athletes that Oren's company outfitted. Determination, a declaration that nature had no hold over what was going to happen, that humanity would make the impossible happen. Oren had definitely seen it before, but knowing that such force was on his side, looking out for him, made the chance of surviving seem much greater.

"Thank you," he said, not knowing how else to express his feelings. Then Oren pointed to Kirk's head wrap in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Is it cooler than my hat? Could you maybe teach me how to wear one?"

"Yes, of course," Kirk's face lost some of its tension, and he pulled out the extra scarf from his pack.

Oren watched the other man as he expertly explained how to wrap the cloth around, taking care to tuck and protect his ears and mouth. Their faces were very close, and he could see the sexy dark stubble that was growing on Kirk's face. It made the pilot look even more ruggedly handsome, and Oren's pulse quickened.

"There - you look good," Kirk said, pausing directly in front of Oren's face to inspect his handiwork.

Their faces were merely inches apart, with only their cloth head wraps separating their lips. As their eyes locked, Oren's heart jolted, and he was glad his face was partly covered. The tension and anger between them seemed to have shifted into something else - perhaps something even more dangerous than dislike.

Oren pulled back, coughing awkwardly as he put space between them. The last thing he needed was to be thinking with his small head. His life was on the line, and he was pretty sure that Kirk not-so-secretly hated him.

Got to keep my head on straight. We will get through this nightmare, and never see each other again. Just got to focus on getting home
, he chided himself.

"Ready to get going?" he said out loud, brushing sand off of himself. It was a pointless task, as it just blew right back onto him, but it gave his hands something to do.

"Of course, sir," Kirk purred out, turning and continuing to march forward.

“You can call me Oren.”

“Of course, Mr. Moore.”

“You are impossible!” Oren chuckled, a small smile threatening to cross his face for the first time since the crash.

"
I
'm not
sure I can make it much longer," Oren croaked as the afternoon of the second day was waning. They had been walking nonstop since they left the crash site, except for a short seven-hour break to sleep the night before.

At first, he had been fine, able to keep up with Kirk's long strides with little difficulty. He knew water would be a problem, but he thought he'd make it at least to the third day. Oren spent long hours at the gym - conveniently located in his office building so he could still answer calls and harass his staff - and was proud of the shape he kept his body in. However, nothing could have prepared him for the steady, monotonous slog through the desert.

His steps were beginning to falter, and he had caught himself veering off to the right several times in his trek. His feet didn't seem to want to listen to his directions, and his eyes kept threatening to close.

"Maybe I should take a nap."

"No, you can't stop here," Kirk said firmly, reaching to grab hold of Oren's arm and support him. "We have to keep moving and try to find some shelter. We are nearly there, you just have to keep going."

Oren nodded weakly, then felt his legs give out. He buckled, only being saved from hitting the ground by Kirk's grasp. "I don't think I have a choice," he laughed, hysteria beginning to come into his voice.

"Sir, you really need to keep moving," Kirk begged, trying to get him to stand again.

"You don't need to call me sir. That's pretentious. I'm pretentious. My whole life is pretentious." Oren's tongue felt thick in his mouth, and the words were difficult to form. “I’m just Oren.”

“OK, Oren.” Kirk said his first name carefully, working his tongue slowly over the new word. "Here, take the last of the water. You really need to drink." Kirk pressed the nearly empty water bottle into his hand.

"I've had enough. You need some...too." Oren shook his head, the world spinning slightly. Was everything always so yellow and bright? He couldn't remember if his eyes had always seen the world like this, or if something had changed. He couldn't remember much of anything, now that he thought about it.

"You need that more than I do," Kirk responded, shoving the water bottle into Oren’s hand again. "Drink. Please, Oren."

Oren blinked, trying to focus. He could see Kirk's handsome face swimming with concern, his dark eyes widely dilated with fear. Oren could also see that Kirk was hot and sweating, his face flushed under his neatly tied scarf.

"You are thirsty too," Oren said sadly. "So thirsty."

"I'll be ok. I need you to get some more energy, though."

"You are always taking care of me," Oren whispered, trying to focus on Kirk's eyes. "You are a good man."

Kirk looked taken aback and flustered. Oren smiled, enjoying the cute way Kirk blushed.

Cute! Yes, he is really cute. You should ask him out.

The little voice in Oren's head had become increasingly louder as he became thirstier.

Oren snorted in response. "Where would we even go?"

"Go where? We are going to find help. Do you remember that?" Kirk put a hand on Oren's neck to feel his pulse.

"Of course. Help is important. I was just thinking about where we'd go if we were in New York."

Kirk's forehead wrinkled further, and Oren tried to reach up to smooth out the skin. All he managed to do, however, was whack himself clumsily in the shoulder.

You dope. There is no way you are going to win him over by being a klutz. He probably thinks you are so lame right now. Lame-o brain-o.

"I'm not lame!" Oren grunted, frustration rising. Wherever that voice was coming from, it was a jerk!

"No one said you were lame. All I said is you need to drink some water and rest," Kirk said soothingly.

Oren nodded and finally took several sips of the water. It was warm and tasted metallic in his mouth, but the moisture felt divine as it made its way down his dusty throat. After several more sips, the world stopped spinning, and he could focus his eyes a little better.

"If we were in New York, I'd take you to my favorite restaurant. All the water we could drink," he murmured, smiling dreamily to himself.

Water is so nice. There should be more of it around here. Seems to be an oversight. I should tell someone.

"Tell me about it."

"Hm? Tell you what? Oh, the restaurant. It's on top of a very tall building, overlooking the rest of the city. I have a special table I like to reserve, right next to a curved window. At night, it looks like a sea of lights swirling all around you, and you feel as if you are just about to fall off the edge and go crashing down."

"That sounds like that would make it hard to eat," Kirk snorted, grabbing Oren under the arms and helping him to his feet.

"I think you'd be fine, as a brave pilot and all. We'd have a good time, I promise. One day, I'll take you there."

"What will we eat?" Kirk now wrapped one of Oren's arms around his own shoulder, helping support the delirious blonde man as they began to stagger forward together. Kirk looked behind them several times, his face creased with worry.

He must be a picky eater. Yes, that's it. Worried that he'll not enjoy our dinner. He's cute when he worries.

"They specialize in seafood. The most delicious lobster you can imagine, melting in your mouth. And the shrimp risotto might be the most perfect thing on earth."

Oren continued to prattle on, hardly noticing his feet were moving on their own, and Kirk was prodding him steadily forward. He only noticed how far they had gone when some time later he found himself dropped to the earth as Kirk tried to catch his breath.

"Why are we moving so fast?"

"Because we need to find somewhere to stay tonight. It is going to be a rough night."

"Are you coming onto me?" Oren playfully tried to swat at Kirk's backside. Or, at least, that's what he attempted to do before falling into a heap again on the ground.

"No, stop it. I need you to listen to me."

Oren tried to concentrate, but everything in the distance seemed to undulate in a most fascinating way. If he squinted his eyes, he could even make out vast areas of shimmering substance.

There is the water! I knew there had to be some
.

And in the water he thought he could see an island. It was small, just a slight blob on the landscape, but he was sure it was there. Green was barely visible in the distance, hidden amongst the bright sparkling water.

"Oren. Oren, look at those clouds. Do you see them?"

Oren couldn't understand why Kirk was paying attention to the clouds when there was a whole damn ocean in front of them! However, it seemed really important to Kirk that he looked, so Oren pointedly gazed behind them.

The clouds seemed unusually close to the earth, even though they were far in the distance. The tops were white, but the bottoms were a light brown color. And below that he could barely make out dark plumes rising from the ground.

"That is a sandstorm, Oren. The winds are sweeping across the desert, picking up sand and flinging it around at terrifying speeds. Once it reaches us, there will be nowhere to hide. It will block out the sun, pelt us with sand so hard it'll feel like glass is cutting our skin, and the air will be difficult to breathe. Do you understand?"

Oren nodded, unable to look away from the approaching disaster.

"So we have got to keep going. We can't outrun it, but maybe we can find a rocky outcrop to hide under or something."

"We could go and hide in the ocean," Oren said thickly, gesturing out towards the distance.

"That's not the ocean. That's just a mirage. There is nothing but sand," Kirk said exasperatedly, not even turning around to look.

"But what about the island?"

"What island?"

"The ones with the trees!" Oren tugged on Kirk's hand and pointed with a shaking finger to the green blob in the distance.

"That's just another mirage. There is no-" Kirk paused, his mouth dropping open. He then raised a hand to shield his eyes and squinted into the distance. "It's an oasis! You found an oasis!"

Oren tried to smile, but his face was feeling extra numb, and it was getting harder and harder to see. Everything was growing brighter and yellower like he was staring directly into a giant sun. Even when he shut his eyes, all he could see was a disorienting light.

"Oren, are you ok? We need to get to the oasis," he heard Kirk say, just before the yellow turned suddenly to black and everything went silent.