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The man began walking toward them. The feeling of lightness and euphoria was increasing, but exhaustion kept them from moving. The desert was golden and beautiful. Everything was serene, at peace--the angels, yes, the angels would appear before long. That was what they had come to the desert for--to talk with their angels!
She was naked, and she was not ashamed.
The man stopped when he reached them. What language was he speaking? They couldn't understand what he was saying.
Paulo tried to concentrate on what he was hearing, and realized that the man was speaking English. After all, they were in the United States.
"Come with me," the man said.
"We want to rest," Paulo said. "Five minutes."
The man picked up the bag and opened it.
"Put this on," he said to Chris, handing her clothing to her.
She forced herself to get up, and did as he said. She was too tired to argue.
He ordered Paulo to do the same, and Paulo was also too tired to argue. The man saw the canteens filled with water, opened one of them, filled the cap, and ordered them to drink.
They weren't thirsty. But they did as the man said. They were quite calm, and completely at peace with the world--and they had no desire to argue.
They would do anything they were told to do, obey any order, so long as they were left in peace.
"Let's walk," the man said.
They couldn't even think. They sat there gazing at the desert. They would do anything so long as the stranger left them alone.
But the man escorted them to the car, told them to get in, and started the engine. "I wonder where he's taking us," Paulo thought. But he wasn't worried--the world was at peace, and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. Surely his angel would appear before long.
PAULO AWOKE WITH HIS STOMACH CHURNING, AND A tremendous need to vomit.
"Lie still for a while longer."
Someone was speaking to him, but in his head there was only confusion. He still remembered the golden paradise where all had been serene and peaceful.
He tried to move, and felt as if thousands of needles were sticking into his head.
I think I'll go back to sleep, he thought. But he couldn't--the needles wouldn't allow it. And his stomach was still turning over.
"I want to throw up," he said.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was sitting in a kind of mini-market: He could see several refrigerator cabinets with soft drinks and shelves with foodstuffs. The sight of the food made him feel nauseated again. Then he noticed nearby a man he had never seen before.
The man helped him to get up. In addition to the imaginary needles in his head, Paulo realized that he had another in his arm. Only this one was real.
The man held the needle in place and helped Paulo to the bathroom, where he vomited some water, nothing more.
"What's happening? What's this needle for?"
It was Chris, speaking Portuguese. He returned to the store and saw that she was sitting up, too, with a needle in her arm.
Paulo felt a little better now, and no longer needed the man's support. He helped Chris up and to the bathroom, where she vomited.
"I'm going to use your car to get back to mine," the stranger said. "I'll leave the keys in the ignition. You can get a ride to it when you're ready."
Paulo was starting to remember what had happened, but the nausea had returned, and he had to vomit again.
When he came back, the man had left, but a boy of seventeen or eighteen was there.
