“Talk about being lost, Frank.”
“What’d you mean?”
“I mean, we must be in the middle of nowhere.”
He didn’t have the strength to say ‘nowheresville’.
Frank pushed himself up from the hot sand.
“We’re crawling in the desert, Ralph. If we don’t get some water soon, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”
The Sun was a pitiless furnace in a cloudless sky. A few buzzards circled above.
“The desert? So you mean, we’re in the middle of the desert?”
Their clothes were burnt, tattered shreds.
“Yeah, as far as I can see.”
“No kidding?”
Frank tossed away the empty canteen.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Huh?”
Ralph looked from the canteen to the endless sand.
“For a moment there, I didn’t think we had any idea where we were, Frank.”
David Sydney is a physician who writes fiction in and out of the EHR (Electronic Health Record).