He knew the odds were against him, but his back was to the wall. It was his only way to save his home, his marriage, and his family, so he had to take the chance. It didn’t pan out.
They dropped him off in the middle of the Arizona desert, assuming that he wouldn’t survive the extreme heat for more than a day or two. This was the price you paid for having welshed on a bet when the mob is involved. Theirs was a take no prisoners mentality and he knew that from the get-go.
He scanned the barren land before him, seeing no signs of civilization anywhere along the horizon. And worse, no signs of water. He knew that temperatures in the desert would reach the low 100s by midday. There was nowhere to hide from the sun. No trees to shade him, not even a cactus large enough to shield him.
He decided to accept his fate and to give up. It was his karma. He was getting exactly what he deserved. As the sun rose on the second day, he knew it would be his last.
Until he heard the sounds of the helicopter blades overhead.
Written for Susan Spaulding’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Photo credit: Joy Pixley.