A blazing sun fries lizards hidden under rocks. We pan down to see RICK, his face glistening and filthy, hair matted, one pant leg torn, as he stumbles across the desert amongst sagebrush.
RICK: [talking to himself, delirious] Lordy! Why you making me work so hard?? [He giggles disturbingly] Goddamned vultures!! Whole industry is riddled with you fucking bloodsucking carrion shit birds!!
Overhead we do, in fact, see a handful of the scavengers swirling in circles.
RICK: Paid my fuckin dues… I coulda been a— ooooh!
Rick stumbles across a road sign, faded and half buried. ALAMEDA RD. A scorpion wanders by in the pale sand.
RICK: Well that sure helps. [laughs maniacally] I am so fucked.
Rick’s lips are caked and white, his forehead and cheeks a dangerous pink red.
RICK: [yelling into the sky] Clouds above me!! Form me an arrow, guide me to civilization!! Aqua!!! Fresca me casa De Niro es mui… eh… mui…
Rick no habanero l’escargot. He is losing touch with reality.
RICK: God!! Please!! God, I—
TERRY: [shouting from the mesa top in the distance] hello ! Hello there… Are you okay?
Rick turns, hears some one’s voice…
TERRY: HELLO!! UP HERE!!!
The man runs down the steep side of the hill, kicking up a dust storm.
TERRY: Sir, are you okay? What are you doing out here?!
RICK: Am I dreaming?… He falls over and face palms into the dirt, scratching his arms on the brush.
TERRY: Oh my, oh my!! Are you okay? [Rick is obviously not okay.]
Terry runs to assist Rick, offers him a hand to help him on his feet.
RICK: Water… please, water…
TERRY: Oh my dear, you look close to death! Please, come, yes, of course, let’s get you some water.
Rick stumbles along following the man, climbing up the side of the mesa, his eyes wide and lips not drooling at all. He focuses all his remaining strength on getting up the hillside, and we see landscaped succulents and fronds come into view; the tan adobe curves of a house atop the mesa… other houses. Civilization!!!
——
Terry pours lavender lemonade into a tall glass, bubbling like a miracle. Rick takes the glass and chugs most of it down, some pouring over his filthy concert T. Blues Traveler, Red Rock, 2021, 4th of July.
TERRY: What happened? Why are you out in the desert? I’m so glad I found you!
RICK: [pauses to inhale] So am I. I thought I was … Thank you..
TERRY: Of course, you look like heck, mister. I’m Terry, and this is my house. Where were you going? And what’s your name?
RICK: Rick Tunstall. I.. we broke down on the road.. I was going to look for help, for gas…
TERRY: Good lord! Why did you leave the road? Where is your car, Rick?
RICK: My friend is with it, off highway 315. Car ran out of gas and we were lost and [erupts into coughing fit.]
TERRY: Okay, okay, slow down!! Have some more water, and sit down. [beat] Your friend is alone out there too?
RICK: She’s with the car, yeah. But has a cooler with some drinks and food. I… can you please take me to a gas station? My phone died, I don’t know how to—
TERRY: Oh, stop, Rick. Of course I will help you. We can get you into shape. Help yourself to the lemonade, and maybe we can charge your phone in my car — is it an Apple? — and 315 is only a couple miles from here. Do you know about where you broke down? Oh and if you would like a shower…
Rick is staring into space while Terry prattles on helpfully.
——
Krystall is sitting in the driver’s seat of their unfortunate used Pontiac, having a cigarette despite knowing this is a bad idea, but it’s been a couple hours, and her internal narrative is really none of our business.
It is 2023, and December no less, but the entire scene feels like some old west nightmare. What happened to 2016? Or later? When are we, and when is this nightmare going to end?
Leave a Reply