Lefty’s Ghost

Freddy had never seen it so hot. What a heck of a time and place for his old Chevy to break down. He knew he was at least three day’s walk from anywhere, and no one even knew he had come up this canyon looking for ancient cave paintings. He’d heard stories that people rafting the river had spotted what appeared to be some sort of ancient pictures alongside caves in the canyon wall. Since he taught anthropology at the University of Arizona, it was only natural his curiosity would be piqued by the stories.

He wiped his arm across his face to rid it of some of the sweat and was happy at least that he brought plenty of water with him. Two five gallon cans full. He also had a box of spare parts for the old Chevy in the back. Being as old as it was, and having as many miles on it as it did, something was always breaking down. Freddy expected a radiator hose or a fan belt to go about any time, but he sure never expected the newly rebuilt engine to throw a rod.

As he stared at the huge oil spot on the ground, where the rod came right through the oil pan, Freddy just couldn’t figure what he might have done wrong. He’d rebuilt probably two dozen of these old 350’s, and never once did he have a problem with them. He sure hated to leave the cherry condition Chevrolet Cameo pickup in this place in the middle of nowhere. There had been but twelve hundred of these babies built in nineteen fifty-eight, and he was sure his was among the top ten as far as original condition.

Three days. How would he carry enough water for three days? He was well aware of what the desert heat could do to your body if you allowed yourself to become dehydrated. There sure wasn’t a sign of a cloud in the sky, so he knew there would be enough moonlight to travel at night. Since the canyon ran all the way back to the highway, he was sure he could find a place in the shade to stay during the day. If only the slight shifting of rock hadn’t occurred three years earlier, the river would still be running. His geologist friend at UA told him it was one of the strangest things he’d ever seen. There’d been but a slight earth tremor, then, three days later, the river dried up completely. An investigation found the river flowing straight down into an underground aquifer. If only that river was still flowing, it would make things simple. He’d have fresh drinking water all the way. Not to mention, when it flowed, there were always campers and boaters all up and down the river. But now, without the river, only fools and the extremely curious traveled this far upstream from civilization.

Wishing the river was there sure wouldn’t bring it back, and being a practical sort of person, Freddy turned his attention to carrying enough water to survive. He had two canteens with him that held a quart each, but he knew that would never keep him alive for three days in this heat. He had two ham and cheese sandwiches and a small bag of chips in the ice chest, along with a six pack of beer. The beer was useless. He knew Alcohol in his system would only make him sweat faster and dehydrate faster. As he stared at the two water cans in the rear of the pickup, he wished he’d brought more food along, but he was only going to be gone for the day, and he never dreamed his prized ’58 would suffer such a major breakdown.

There was nothing he could do but carry one of the cans along with him, so he spent the next two hours doing a sort of macramé with the quarter inch rope from the toolbox that sat across the bed of the truck, full of tools and spare parts. He created a sling that would fit around the can, with a couple of loops to go around his shoulders. It would be a lot of weight to carry, but there was no other way. He would eat one sandwich at sundown, before he headed south, and save the other for tomorrow. After that… well, he’d just have to tough it out for a couple of days.

He was right about the moonlight. The desert at night can be a sort of scary place if you can’t see too well where you’re placing your feet. Any number of creatures came out to feed at night, including some that were about as poisonous as you’d find anywhere in the world. One little bite from the sidewinder, you could call it quits and rest about three minutes before your soul winged its way to heaven. Of course, there were a lot of unlikable guys running around the desert during the day, whose bite was just as deadly, but they were far easier to spot.

It cooled down rapidly, as the sun went away and the sand lost its heat to the night air. Freddy made what he thought was probably good time, following his tire tracks south. The ground was of hard packed sand, and it wasn’t as if his tires left ruts, but Lefty Johnson had taught him how to read signs. A little twig broken here, a small indent the width of a set of tires there, a small dug out spot where his tires spun, climbing an incline. One thing about the entire situation, it was as quiet out here in the middle of the night as Freddy could imagine it could ever be. He could have been on the surface of an uninhabited planet. And, the sky was beautiful.

As he watched for signs of his tracks coming from the south, Freddy laughed aloud. Old Lefty was really gonna give him the big heehaw for getting stuck out here all alone. Lefty was one of the few remaining descendants of the cliff dwellers who lived in the area hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years ago. Or, so he said. Freddy had to allow that Lefty did know all about being an Indian; everything from tracking and capturing animals to finding water where there was none. But then, Lefty had been an army ranger for some twenty years. Freddy knew they taught you stuff like that in the rangers. Lefty was a heck of a likable guy, so Freddy would forgive him his little fantasies about being descended from the people long gone from the area.

Sunup, and Freddy was amazed at the rapid way the desert turned into a furnace. He continued to move south only long enough to find a rock outcrop on the canyon wall that would shade him well all day. Then, he crawled back as far as he could and lay down to sleep, hopefully. Man, he was hungry, but he’d save the sandwich for when he woke up. He sure wished he had some way to contact Lefty. His friend owned a charter helicopter service. Usually, all it amounted to was flying people from the airport to downtown, or once in a while, ferrying people in a hurry between Phoenix and Tucson. Hell, Lefty could fly him out of here in about twenty minutes.

The sun was in the middle of the afternoon sky when he awakened. His mouth was dry, and his body ached from carrying the heavy can of water and lying on the hard rock bed he’d chosen for the day. At fifty-three years old, he was still in what one would call excellent condition for someone that age, but his normal job did nothing to keep him as physically fit as he could have been for this sort of journey. Freddy wasn’t into health clubs and workouts, just walking around the block now and then, so he could say he exercised.

Freddy sat up and drank the balance of water from his second canteen, then refilled both canteens from the can, careful to screw the lid back on tightly. He pulled the smashed sandwich and potato chips from his small side pack and wondered if he should eat the chips. They’d make him thirsty. He’d save them for tomorrow. As he munched the hot, squishy sandwich, he was glad he had opted to make it with mustard instead of mayonnaise. The mayonnaise would have spoiled, and he would have to throw the sandwich away, or risk killing himself with botulism poisoning.

As soon as the sun was down, he started to the south once again, satisfied he was making good time. It had taken him five hours to drive up to where the Chevy threw the rod, and he figured he had averaged ten miles an hour. That meant he had about fifty miles to get out of the desert, and he was sure he had covered at least sixteen, seventeen miles the night before. If he could keep up that pace, three days total to safety. He stared at the first twinkling of stars, as he stood just beyond his shelter, adjusting the weight of the water can. Then, he looked down at the dry riverbed and wished once more it wasn’t dry. There had been fish in the river, and with water and something to eat available, a man could survive out here for years. That is, if a snake or loneliness didn’t kill him or drive him crazy.

The ground became far more rugged, as he traveled alongside the riverbed, which, in places, dropped several hundred feet below him. Freddy knew the lack of food was getting to him, when he had to stop to rest a few minutes every now and then. The previous night, he had walked all night without stopping, except to take a drink from a canteen. Perhaps he should walk a little longer in the morning, until the heat became unbearable. He had plenty of water, so he didn’t need to worry about the heat dehydrating him.

Freddy thought he was following his tire tracks in the moonlight, but it was a couple of tiny rills cut in the hard sand by some previous rain. He didn’t even see the drop off until he stepped off the edge. It was a thirty-foot drop to the dry riverbed.

¤

He awakened to the sun burning down with extreme ferocity. His entire upper body hurt terribly, but he felt nothing in his legs. It took him some time to realize what had happened and to remember stepping into nothingness last night. He had to get out of the sun, but when he tried to sit up, nothing worked. His left arm just wouldn’t work at all. When he turned his head to look at it, a sharp end of bone stuck through the heavy duck shirt, which was covered with dried blood.

Through the pain and fear, he managed to whisper, "Well, Freddy, you really got yourself in some kind of a fix this time. Now, what are you going to do? Well, the first thing is to get out of the sun, no matter how much it hurts."

He turned his head to see what kind of jam he was in and saw the large tree still clinging to the riverbank, as if it were waiting for the water to return. It created a large area of shade, and half way between him and the tree lay his precious water can. Now, Freddy wished he had been more serious about staying in shape. His right arm seemed to be okay, the only part of his shattered body that seemed to function properly.

It took a terrifying hour of supreme pain and exertion to drag himself as far as the water can. Then, he had to shove the can a short distance, then pull his body along with one arm. He had to repeat the process over and over and was moving toward the shade of the tree at an agonizingly slow pace. Once, he tried to look at his watch to see what time it was, but it, too, was shattered. He laughed loudly, when he finally reached the tree, as the sun dropped below the edge of the precipice from which he had fallen.

Freddy had to lie on his side and roll the can over to get a drink, and he splurged by letting a little water fall across his battered, scorched face. Now, it didn’t matter how much water he used, he was going to die, anyway. His walking days were over, at least for a while. He knew he had either broken his back, or severed some nerves with a sharp rock cutting into his spine, but had no way to know for sure which. One thing he did know for sure; he was going to die. God, he wished he had something to eat. It’d be one thing to die with a full belly, but quite another to die hungry.

The pain his head pounded like small explosions. Freddy knew he was slipping toward darkness real fast, and his thoughts turned to what he had spent his life doing. As bad as he hurt, he again managed to laugh, when he realized he’d done so little of any importance. Perhaps a few of the dunderheads taking his classes at the university had benefited, but he knew for the most part, it was an easy course for credit toward some social degree or something. Maybe some of the students had become more aware of what was happening to their world through his lectures on the progress of man into the industrial age, and what that meant to our environment. But, hell, none of it made any difference now. Perhaps someone would remember he had mentioned he was going to explore the dry riverbed caves for ancient art and they would perhaps some day find what was left of his body. Of course, he didn’t really care, not believing in a hereafter, anyway. When you died, you were nothing more than any other animal that died and rotted away. There would just plain be no more awareness of anything.

He had to close his eyes and rest. Maybe close them for the last time. Freddy said aloud, "So long world. It’s been interesting," and closed his eyes.

The next thing of which he was aware was the feeling of someone being close-by. It had become dark and, when he opened his eyes, there in front of him was an Indian astride a camel. Now, what the hell kind of nightmare was this? He closed his eyes, knowing he was hallucinating, and when he opened them again the Indian would be gone. But, much to his surprise, the Indian had dismounted and squatted next to him, holding a ceramic looking cup of water to his lips, which he eagerly drank. Then, he closed his eyes and said aloud, "I know this isn’t real. There are no Indians anymore. Not in this damned Godforsaken desert, anyway."

He was right. When he again opened his eyes, not only was the Indian gone, but the camel as well, and he laughed loudly. "Man, Freddy, old son, when it comes to hallucinating, you’re good." Then, he realized he wasn’t thirsty and saw the cup on the ground. After staring at it for several minutes, he decided it must have been an artifact that had been there all along, and in his injured state of mind had gone unnoticed.

He hated the tricks his mind was playing on him and wished he’d go ahead and die, dammit! If there was some way to finish himself off, he would and avoid the pain and suffering he knew was still to come before death finally overtook him. "Hey, where’s that angel of death I’ve heard about. Hey! Angel! Where the hell are you, Angel? C’mon and get me!"

Once again, he closed his eyes and thought about his mom, who had died when he was young, barely into high school. Now, that was unfair. For her and himself. At least his mother died knowing there was a Heaven. He was glad she believed. It made dying a lot easier and, in a way, he wished he could believe. Don’t wanta go to sleep. Gotta watch the stars as long as I can.

A familiar sound awakened him at dawn. It was the pounding rhythm of helicopter rotors against the air. Was he still dreaming, or was it real? Then, he felt the wind from the rotors and dust kicked up on the riverbed. There was barely enough light to see the big red letters on the cream colored background: Arizona Charters. How in the hell did Lefty know he was here?

The rotors slowed to a stop, as Lefty ran to him and asked, "Hey, buddy, you okay?"

"Not so you’d notice. I think I broke my back. How’d you know where I was?"

"Don’t worry about it right now. We gotta get you to the hospital." Lefty picked him up carefully, carried him to the big side door and lay him on the floor of the chopper. "Sorry the accommodations aren’t better, buddy. Hang in there. Twenty minutes to Holy Cross."

As Lefty climbed into the pilot’s seat, twisted the actuator, spoke into the radio and lifted off, Freddy asked him again. "Hey, Lefty, how’d you know where to find me?"

With a huge grin on his face, Lefty said, "Man, you won’t believe it."

When he was silent, Freddy asked, "Well?"

"I dreamed where you were. I mean, I was told in a dream where you were." He laughed and said, "This Indian on a camel rode up to my bedroom window and yelled at me that you needed help. Then, he told me where you were. Damnedest dream I ever had. The old Indian spoke a language I’d never heard before, but I understood him. Ain’t that weird? Anyway, the dream was so real, I had to fly out here and see for myself. Sure glad I did."

The last thing Freddy remembered was saying, "So am I." He didn’t remember anything from that point on, until he awakened in the hospital.

The nurse asked, "How are you feeling?"

"How am I supposed to answer that? Where am I?"

"Holy Cross Hospital."

"Am I alive, or am I dreaming?"

She smiled broadly and said, "Oh, you’re very much alive. Now that you’re awake, how about something to drink? You’re pretty dehydrated. What happened to you?"

Freddy frowned and thought about his ordeal, but didn’t speak. Had he dreamed that Lefty told him an old Indian on a camel told him where he was? Man, was he still hallucinating, and this, too, was but a dream? "Would you do something for me?"

The nurse turned back with the glass of orange juice and smiled as she handed it to him. "What would you like?"

"Would you slap me or something? Could I squeeze your hand? I have to make sure I’m not just dreaming this."

When she put the straw at his lips, he sipped on it and reached to touch her with his left arm. It wouldn’t move, and he realized it was in a cast. "Am I paralyzed?"

"Let me get the doctor to come in. Be right back."

The doctor wasn’t what he expected. He was definitely Indian from his features, and he looked far too young to be a doctor.

"So, you return to the living, Mister Saner."

"Uh… I’m confused. Last I knew I was out there in the canyon, no way to get anywhere. Am I paralyzed? Are you really a doctor, or part of my dream.

The doctor laughed softly and said, "No, you are not paralyzed. Yes, I am a doctor. No, I am not part of a dream. But, you are extremely lucky. You have a pretty severe burn over a good deal of your body. That sun nearly baked you. Nothing that won’t heal, but, like I said, you are one lucky fellow. You teach over at Arizona State, don’t you?"

"Well, I did before I died. I know I must be dead, and I have to admit I was mistaken about death being the end of it all. Although, I had never imagined the afterlife would be a dream world."

This brought laughter from the doctor and the nurse. Then, the doctor asked, "How can we convince you this isn’t a dream? By the way, how did you get to the emergency room?"

"What do you mean?"

"How’d you get there? The doctor on duty found you lying on a gurney in front of an emergency treatment room. Nobody seemed to have seen you brought in, much less dumped on the floor."

It was all too much for him to understand, and he was having a hard time not believing he was still out there on the desert, dreaming all this. "You say I’m not paralyzed? Why couldn’t I move or feel my legs?"

"You had a huge knot on your spine from a severe blow. It swelled and put so much pressure on the nerves, it effectively paralyzed you from the waist down for a time. Do you remember how you got here?"

"Sure. Lefty came out and got me."

"Lefty?" The young doc had a look of disbelief written across his face.

"Yes. Lefty Johnson. He has that helicopter charter service. Lefty’s a buddy of mine. In fact, he’s probably somewhere out there in the waiting room, waiting to see how I am."

The nurse and doctor stared at one another, then back at him. Finally the doctor asked, "Are you sure that’s how you got here?"

"Well, Lefty put me in his chopper and flew here. I passed out, I guess, somewhere between here and the canyon. I don’t remember who brought me inside, but I would suppose Lefty did. Can’t figure why he’d just leave me, though." He looked at the nurse and asked, "Would you see if he’s waiting to see me?"

The young Indian doctor folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor. "You say Lefty Johnson is a friend of yours?"

"Yes."

"Mister Saner, I have no idea how you got here, but I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Lefty and I belong to the same Indian Council. I knew him quite well. Lefty Johnson was killed in the crash of his helicopter half way between here and Tucson, three days ago. How could he have brought you here two days ago?"

***

It was nearly a month later, when Freddy found the courage to go back for his 1958 Chevrolet Cameo pickup. This time, he rode in the air conditioned, nearly new tow truck. Although the driver carried on a running conversation, Freddy was mostly silent, trying to sort out what he believed and what he didn’t believe. It had taken getting out of the hospital and going back to the university campus to finally make him realize he was, indeed, alive, by some miracle or another. But, how could Lefty have hauled him to the hospital, when Lefty had been dead for three days?

When they arrived at the truck, the driver said, "Yep, looks like ya threw a rod all right. Good lookin’ truck."

"I came out here to look at that cave over there. I’m going to have a look while you hook the truck up." The driver was saying something, as he walked away, but his attention was riveted on the cave. Somehow, he knew there was something there he should see. And, for some reason, he brought his camera along, as he’d intended to do on his original trip.

It was still fairly early, and the cave was dark inside, once he walked past the entrance. A feeling came over him… something that told him there was a message here to be learned. Something about the people who had once inhabited this cave. The first picture he saw was a camel. No doubt about it. Freddy knew that some hundreds of years ago, camels were used in the American deserts, but had been turned loose and eventually died out. The next picture was of a man on a camel. He took flash pictures of each painting, hoping they would come out okay.

The next picture stopped him dead in his tracks, and he stood staring with his mouth open in amazement for some time. He raised the camera and snapped a photo. It was a photo he’d never show anyone. No one would believe it, and he wasn’t sure if he did. The painting seemed as old as all the others, but how could it be? There were no helicopters when these paintings were done.

Freddy placed his hand against the painting and tears slowly ran down his cheeks. He had no idea how long he stood there, thanking Lefty and the old Indian for saving his life and wondering what he was supposed to do with this second life he’d been given. It had to be something important.

Finally, he was brought back from his reverie by the tow truck driver asking him if he was ready to go. "Gettin’ too hot ta be out here."

When they were back in the air conditioned cab and slowly making their way south, over the rough terrain, the driver asked, "You find them paintings you were lookin’ for?"

"Yeah… I sure did… and a whole lot more."