No Trespassers

They were closing on California. Harsh desert. Hot. Boiling. Burning. Whatever tension Clemens and Ashley had for each other turned to the mutual hatred of the sun. Despite the windows fully cranked open, it was drying them to the bone.

Mountains like solitary teeth jutting from the ground. Awkward alien Joshua trees watching them. Their weird tufts of leafy hair on the ends of their thick stubby branches.

A board said “Los Angeles 200 miles”

A lake in the distance only for it to be a mirage.

“Pickles…” Clemens said. 200 miles away. No gas stop in sight. No gummies. No sodas. They must’ve taken a wrong turn into a dusty desert road.

“Water…” Ashley said. Dry voice.

There was a sprite bottle with barely a drop in it.

“None…” Clemens said.

There was a cloud in the sky that looked like a dick. Clemens laughed.

“That cloud looks like a dick…” Clemens said.

“Yeah…” Ashley sighed.

They were on the road to hell, bodies glistening with sweat. Then their salvation came in sight. There was a house. A wooden panal house with a little rickety fence. They pulled up.

Ashley noticed that the curtains quickly closed and there was a hand. An eerie feeling. Clemens needed a glass of water. Parched. Her tongue was rough.

They got out of the car into the hot sun. Made for the gate. It had half a dozen locks on it. And a sign that said: No trespassers.

“Darn…” Clemens said.

“Hello! Is anyone there! We need some help!” Ashley said, “We are lost!”

The front door creaked open. An old man, hunched over with a shotgun in hand. He was a prune.

“Lost aye… Well why don’t ya come in…” he said.

“Okay,” Clemens said.

“Wait…” Ashley said catching Clemens’ shoulder, “I have a bad feeling about this…”

“I’m thirsty…” Clemens said.

“I’ll wait by the car…” Ashley said.

Clemens climbed over the gate and into the house. The old man looked back and shut the door.