Dzakambal Woke

by Nym Zudeau

1. Dzakambal woke. Others stirring. Words hovering. Hungry, so what. Yawned. Stretched, nearby dog did same. Blinked, did not try to lick cracked lips; the covered bowl still had water, looked and sniffed clean. Sipped, rinsed, spit on the weeds and dirt, drank. Unwrapped wafer, ate. Scrawled like a sign above the sleeping place was “Dzakambal.” Air fresh. Cloudy, humid. Same clothes. Not the same day. Suddenly raining. Leaves and things dripping. Time to get vertical. Time to find how this day would be different.  All were different, some better. Dzakambal could maybe make it better.  Didn’t know: why, why not.

2. Dzakambal ignored the rain. Ignored the others, but one walked by, quietly said: “huh.”  With a nod, Dzakambal replied: “huh.”  Others noisy, chattering. The two walked quietly to the sheds; each finished ablutions there. Nymzuday queried: “Go?” Dzakambal nodded, said, “yeah.”  Side by side, the two weaved through the chaos of the site. Already stopped raining. Sun was gonna get hot; unspoken target was finding someplace cool.  Walked but no others followed, past where others couldn’t be heard, others couldn’t be seen, others didn’t care anyway.  Not hunting, weren’t hunted; confronted the greenery, wriggled through quickly, quietly, finding a path.

3. Dzakambal once tried kissing Nymzuday; Nymzuday once tried kissing Dzakambal. Neither time did lips meet. Neither time was there an embrace, or an affection, or even a word. Neither were sure why the attempts were made, neither admitted to being embarrassed;  both had already learned to look unsurprised, unfazed, but were not unaware, not disinterested. Each one almost smiled then, and each remembered. Both had seen others kiss, and other things. Neither minded the occasional touch, hand to hand when climbing, hand to foot to remove broken glass, hand to hair to remove a spider, or touch as silent warning.

4. Nymzuday was leading.  Few thorns, thick wet and heavy growth; both kept going hard. Dzakambal saw it under leaves where Nymzuday had stepped, a thing too smooth. Tan brown and shiny wet. Dzakambal stopped. Nymzuday noticed, and stopped.  Silence, except staccato dripping. Nothing else moved in that moment. Dzakambal crouched. Blue veins like a leaf: it was a hand Dzakambal’s size, right hand, two nails red, and arm to elbow. No blood, no flesh, no wires, not human, not animal. No tattoo. Soft outside, flexible fingers could be posed. Both searched carefully, quietly; no other body parts within five paces.

5. Nymzuday had a look, handled it gently, reluctantly, nodded, and passed it back. Dzakambal didn’t usually keep things. Items were taken too often. But the hand fit into a loose pocket. No discussion, both knew the greenery was to be a quiet place, not even whispers, so eyes and nods sufficed. Nymzuday touched Dzakambal who moved forward, leading. The sun was overhead when Dzakambal stopped, near a creek swelled by rains. Berries found, eaten, water smelled clean, rinsed, spit, drank. Rare to find unstripped berries; both thought others wouldn’t roam this far. Each ate a wafer, saved wrappers to exchange.

6. After drinking each sat almost back to back to rest. Something moved. Three dogs were staring, drooling, growling, approaching in a triangle. Dzakambal already had a rock, grabbed another, Nymzuday found more. Each glared back unblinking, backs now touching. Dogs crouched forward, lean and menacing. At four paces, Dzakambal and Nymzuday jammed against each other’s back, stood tall, unleashed the rocks. The smaller dogs whimpered and ran, but the larger one lowered its head, facing Dzakambal. Nymzuday now grabbed a head-sized rock, leaped in front, and did not miss the dog’s head. Quiet again, just the dog’s heaving breathing.

7. After minutes, nothing else moved. Dog lay still. Creek water led on; picking up more rocks, each climbed the bank, followed. Less brush, still dense, more trees, but no path, hard going now hours, sun now blazing, cooled by passing clouds. Nymzuday noticed the clearing way ahead, signaled quiet, slow approach. Heard cacophony of birds, but surface of the pond itself was still, reflecting the skittering sky. Buzzing insects, frogs, floating greenery, tiny fish, no visible mammals, no visible predators.  Nymzuday watched, Dzakambal leaned over boulder to search, saw both faces reflected, rock tipped, somehow slipped, fell in. No bottom.

8. Dzakambal, not a swimmer, not a floater, held a breath, a reflex, started sinking. Cold quiet water pale green, shimmering, reflective, transparent. Eyes wide open, seeing but not understanding the large fleeting, looming shadows. Looked skyward, saw an image of a wavering sun, then what might have been an outstretched hand. Nymzuday. Thrashed up, lungs worse, sinking worse, eyes stinging, fingers numb, face tingling. An inexorable traction was pulling downward. Dzakambal had always gotten up before. Expelled air, relieved some pressure, but air hunger worse, feeling nausea and headache and a desperate requirement for a deep breath, all at once.

9. Sinking deeper, struggling, bursting, through all the confusion suddenly felt the touch of fingers. That hand and arm were entangled in a pocket. Now so tempted to inhale, knew better. Drifting downward. Ripped the feeble fabric, and the arm fell away, sinking, Dzakambal caught just the thumb. Left foot rammed something hard, enough to spring against. Sank to a crouch, then thrashed up again, muscles burning, grasping the cold hand, thrusting the blunt arm end toward blue air, toward the image of the wavering sun, toward Nymzuday. Dzakambal felt yanked up, had to breathe, had to breathe, had to breathe.

10. Face down mouth wide open, Dzakambal heard the slap on the back but didn’t feel it, inhaled, vomited green, inhaled, coughed, inhaled, vomited again. Again. Too enervated to move, to think, but aware of the hot air, the grit, the earthy aroma. Dzakambal began to hear again, noticed that Nymzuday was quiet, heard a breeze rustling, an insect buzzing close. Kept eyes closed, reluctant to see anything. Nymzuday already busy scanning the surroundings, wasn’t watching Dzakambal closely, but both could hear the moments becoming consciously muffled, hushed, regaining some silence, some focus, even as both of their thoughts started racing away.