Ashok looked back across the frozen tundra toward the snow capped mountains. He had been walking day and night for at least two days, although he couldn’t be sure, since he was somewhat disoriented. He thought he was heading east, as the sun was slowly setting the over the mountain range and he was still lucid enough to remember that the sun sets in the west.
Or was he actually looking back toward the sunrise? He was confused. Maybe he was heading west. Maybe he was walking in circles. He was so tired, so cold, so hungry. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this.
How easy would it be for him to find a large rock to sit next to, to lean up against, to close his eyes, and to fall asleep. But he knew that if he dared to do that, he might never wake up.
Days, or maybe weeks, from now someone would find his frozen body and wonder what had happened to him. They’d find the crude, hand-drawn map in the pocket of his parka, see the “x” marking the spot where the loot from the heist was supposed to have been buried. But if they, like him, followed the map and reached the destination, they, too, would find the buried treasure gone, their trek in vain.
Ashok tried with all his will to keep walking, but his will was not quite strong enough to overcome his weariness. And so he found his rock, slinked down next to it, and closed his eyes. For the final time.
Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.