The Sun Never Rises

By William Bevill

Chapter 1

I emerged from the gorge of the small canyon in a bit of a hurry as a swarm of bees had inhabited part of a rock bed that I stumbled over. I was deathly allergic to bees, and I was pretty sure even just a few stings would probably finish me off. In the past I’d taken an allergy pill and that simmered things down, but I didn’t have any with me. Medicine was not a luxury in this world anymore.

Slim had no bee allergy that he knew of, but he claimed he had never been bitten. He was not handling the heat well at all, not as well as I was. Sure, I was thirsty, and feeling so parched my throat scorched with the feel of sandpaper. We hadn’t planned any of this trip well. Who should be hiking in the middle of the summer somewhere in the Arizona/New Mexico region? Christ, it was the middle of June, and I would guess it reached 110 by afternoon. Is this how the Native Americans traveled back in the day? I imagine they had more common sense.

As Slim trotted up to join me, he pointed ahead due north up a hill. I squinted in the sunlight, hoping to find a nice cactus we could rest under or something providing a better semblance of shade. I saw a rock formation, something that appeared to be a hut or an outhouse of some kind. Neither of us spoke, we just nodded and made our way toward it.

My guard was slipping. I was no longer on the defensive. Was this hut inhabited by wild animals? Or some maniac with a shotgun? Possibly. But what wasn’t? Everything was being reclaimed. Animals were taking back our structures as we abandoned them. I didn’t know about Slim, but I welcomed the chance to take on some wild bobcat or jaguar. Either it meant fresh meat, or I’d die, and both options sounded about 50/50.

The hut turned out to be a part of a picnic grounds. As we’d been following a hiking trail several miles, it stood to reason something like that exist out here, something for the tourists to bring a sack lunch to. The benches were intact and there was even a fire hearth to cook on. Best of all, we had shade. I collapsed on one of the three tables and Slim slumped down on to the other. It was hot as blazes out and we felt like the coolest people on the planet.

Which wasn’t far from the truth. Slim was the first human I’d seen in over a month. I wasn’t even sure what his real name was, but we adopted nicknames. He wanted to call me “Friday” but I refused. Being he was from Texas, and was skinny as a beanpole, we agreed Slim worked.

We sat there for a while until we felt cooler. Slim seemed to be breathing pretty heavy and it was a bit disturbing.

“I grew up around here, Chrome,” Slim said.

Chrome was the name he settled on for me when he heard I worked as a computer program instructor for IBM. Sad that these skills did not prepare nor enhance my chances of survival in this new world of ours.

“Where are we?” I yawned lazily and chewed on a piece of cactus fruit. We had been collecting them on the trail, and even though I was greedy and did not shave off the prickly parts well enough, I was still eating them and getting pricked in the mouth. It was delicious.

Slim swallowed. I wasn’t sure he was doing well. We’d found each other a few weeks ago on the trail. He hadn’t lived in Arizona in quite a while, having gone to take care of a grandmother who was sick. After everything happened, she couldn’t take her meds and died and he decided to head home. He won’t say it, but I think she had whatever was going around. He managed to avoid it. Despite being a desert dweller, Slim wasn’t quite prepared for the rigors of the desert. Myself? I just wished I was in Oregon. At least I’d have trees.

“I’d say we’re a few hours from Tucson.” His soft blue eyes focused and honed in on the eastern skies. He pointed a shaky finger. “This way. I’ve hiked this before. Old jeep trail over there, better than wash. Takes us over the mountain, but veer right. Otherwise you’ll go up the mountain.” He paused, and smiled. “But it’s a pretty view.”

I didn’t ask him if he knew anyone in Tucson. It seemed to be a sore point. I just knew he was good company. He didn’t complain, and he knew his way around. He’d been hiking trails for years back when that was a hobby and a pleasure, not a means for our survival. I wasn’t sure what would happen once we reached Tucson. Maybe we could hole up in some place and find supplies. I felt good knowing I was with someone who knew a city, but I was fearful of what would be there. It could be like any of the other cities, riddled with viruses.

He mentioned a house he had lived in for years, but wasn’t sure his dad still lived in the house. Either way, it seemed a good bet.