It has been a while. I'm sorry to say that I didn't get a chance to visit the area I'm writing about in this story while I was in India, because I opted to come home early and surprise my parents for Thanksgiving. I will try to finish this with accuracy…
Enjoy!!!
Bhon-Day 4
The sand felt moist around Josef. He was surprised at how much moisture was trapped in the sand of the desert. He used the same method as the day before to check if the sun had gone down, by sticking his hand up to see if it burned. He hated not being able to breathe as he waited. He didn't need to breathe, but it was unnerving not being able to, for fear of filling his lungs with fine desert sand.
Finally, once the sun no longer burned his hand Josef dug his way out. It was early in the night and the moon was barely up. Josef scanned the horizon to make sure there was no one around. Reluctantly, he unscrewed the lid of the flask that held the blood that had been 'sacrificed' to him the night before.
Josef took a sip. He was thirsty, but he was hesitant to drink tainted blood and who knew what diseases those nomads carried. You are what you eat, even if you are a vampire. The blood was type A, but it had a spice to it that Josef hadn't tasted in years.
It must be the disease…or the sun. The last time I tasted that spice I was in the Arabian Peninsula. Josef contemplated the similarities between the racial groups to the similarities of the taste, but dismissed it because he used to have an Indian woman on retainer in LA and she tasted like all the rest. It must be the amount of sun…
Josef drank half the small flask and secured the top, hoping that he would make it to civilization and a plane before he would need the rest of the flask. Josef shook out the loose clothing he now donned and made sure to check his pocket for the compound and his wallet. After checking the position of the moon he sprinted westward and what he hoped was towards civilization.
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Around midnight (the moon was the highest point in the sky) a scent crossed Josef's path. He stopped running. There was no doubt that he was close, that stench was very specific to human excrement.
Josef braved another whiff to determine which direction, then he held his breath and walked in a northwestern direction. It only took him ten minutes to make it to the outside of town. He made his way to the center of town, keeping his distance from the wandering cows and stray dogs. A nervous animal could alert the small town to his presence.
And this was a small town. Josef wouldn't even have considered it civilization; it was a collection of houses and a few small shops at the edge of the desert centered around a spring. Josef wandered the main dirt road wondering if anyone could help him out. None of the small shops looked like a travel agency and he couldn't read the print on most of the signs. In fact, the only Roman letters he could find were 'STD'* printed on a yellow sign by what looked like an oversized shipping crate.
Josef decided to hang by the sign, hoping it was his best chance at finding someone who spoke English. He raised the flap on the turban the woman had tied on his head the night before to protect his face from the morning sun.
Josef waited in the shadows, hoping that whoever ran this small booth would arrive soon. He didn't have to wait long. A man came out of one of the little houses, most likely to go about his morning routine, and found Josef sitting by the booth.
The man tried to ask Josef something, but Josef couldn't understand him. When Josef didn't answer the man tried yelling. The man gave up and went down the road to another house. Josef watched him go; hoping that someone who spoke one of the many languages he did understand would turn up soon.
Suddenly, the first man was back, but this time he was accompanied by a young boy. Josef looked at the kid questionably as they approached. The man tried yelling at Josef again.
"English?" Josef asked, with limited hope.
The older man looked at the kid who stepped closer to Josef. "English?" He repeated in a strange British accent. Josef nodded. The kid looked around, like he was embarrassed. "My name Arman. What you want?"** the boy said timidly.
"Arman," Josef smiled Finally, someone who can help me. "Where am I?"
The boy shook his head, confused. Josef repeated himself, going slower and more clearly this time. The boy smiled. "Bhon," he replied, energetically.
"What country?" Josef asked slowly.
"India," the boy said proudly.
Josef nodded. He was where he figured, though he'd never heard of the town, but being it was so small, that didn't surprise him. "How do I get to an airport?"
The child looked confused. "Airport?" the boy said it as if it was a foreign word.
Josef rolled his eyes. This really was a small town in the middle of nowhere-India. The most educated person, a child, had never heard of an airport! Not all that surprising because by the look of it, the town didn't even have electricity.
"Bus?" Josef asked. The boy recognized the word, but shook his head no.
The old man, impatient of waiting, started asking the young boy questions. Arman shook his head then turned to Josef. "My uncle want know, why you here?"
"I am lost." Josef said simply. He was sure the kid wouldn't understand the whole story of being thrown from an airplane, since he didn't even know what an airport was.
Arman turned back to his uncle and translated Josef's statement. The man asked another question, pointing at the yellow box Josef was sitting beside.
The boy turned back to Josef. "You want make call?"
"Call?" Josef asked, not understanding.
"Yes, sir. Telephone call?" the boy pointed at the booth.
Josef stared in disbelief. Was he really sitting next to a telephone booth? "I can call the US?"
The boy looked puzzled.
"America?" Josef tried. The boy's eyes lit up and nodded.
"Call America take much money, sir."
Josef nodded and pulled his wallet out. He showed the boy a ten dollar bill from his wallet. Josef may not know the language the boy was speaking, but he did know that the current exchange rate between the Indian rupee and the US dollar was about 50 to 1 and he also knew that things in India were much cheaper than in the states, so ten US dollars was a lot of money here.
The boy stared at the bill, as did the old man. "That America money?" the boy asked. Josef nodded. The boy smiled and said something to the older man who nodded and went to unlatch the flap on the front of the booth.
The old man smiled at Josef and climbed into the booth. He pulled out a satellite dish and attached it to the roof by a vice. He then cranked a generator to life and pulled the oldest looking, rotary dial phone from below the small counter and offered it to Josef.
Josef took it, astonished that so much technology existed in such a remote corner of the world. He was almost equally as shocked to find that there was a dial tone when he picked up the receiver.
Josef took a deep breath and called the only number he had bothered to memorize in the last decade. It rang once and then again, before it was picked up. "Hello?" said a confused voice from the other side of the phone.
"Mick, buddy, I need your help…"
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I know it's short, but in truth I don't really feel into writing this story right now and if I don't get a lot of response, I might postpone it indefinitely.
* 'STD' does not mean what you think. It is a common sign in India, depicting which telephone booths have the ability to make international calls.
** I'm not being derogatory about the way Indians speak. Indian languages do not have articles and prepositions like English so Indians first learning English often drop them.