Holy Ground

         The pretty dark-haired waitress, nineteen and a half, was desperate to leave her small town.  She thought her hometown was boring, but the big city several hundred miles across the desert was the place to be for someone like her with so much to offer.  When the freckle-faced young man she had seen having breakfast at the restaurant for several weeks in a row said he was moving to the city and offered her a ride, she took him up on it.  She worked her last breakfast shift on Monday, and went home to change. She wore her best white shorts, aqua tank top, and sandals, expecting to be in the city by nightfall.  She would change her name from Janet, such an old fashioned name, to Melinda, much more modern, and have a job in a few days.  Her father was in town running errands and she didn't bother to leave a note telling him where she had gone. When her ride honked the horn, she walked out of the house past the half wagon wheels set one on each side of the driveway, and set her suitcase in the back of his '89 Dodge pickup truck.  This truck was a calico--that is, the hood was one color, the front fenders another color, and each door yet a different color.  The rusty bed was held together with black rubber stretch straps, and the back fenders flapped when the driver hit a bump of any size.  Most folks in town agreed that they wouldn't drive across town in that bucket of bolts, much less undertake a trip in it, but the young man had driven it with much success. 
         It was mid-afternoon when they started across the desert.  Danny eschewed the main road and took the back roads, telling her that he would show her the scenic route, but actually because his license had been revoked for a number of accidents and he wanted to avoid a chance meeting with the state troopers.  His luck ran out in the desert just about suppertime, and he pulled the truck off the road on a deserted stretch of highway.  Steam poured out from under the hood, and the truck refused to start again.  Great, she thought, as she watched his red hair bobbing under the hood.  "Well, two hoses have blown in this heat," he said.  "I can call the state troopers, but I'm not sure exactly where we are."  "You'd better call now," she said.  "It's getting dark.  Just tell them we are on a side road and they will be able to find us by helicopter before it gets dark."  "Ok," he said, "you'd better stay with the truck and try to flag down anyone who comes by," and he walked away from her, cell phone in hand. 
         He was gone for almost an hour, and when he came back in the gathering darkness he had an armful of dried plant material.  "No service out here," he said, "so we're stuck for the night.  At daybreak we can start walking and I'll try every half hour or so until I can get a signal.  At least, I found some wood for a fire."  "Don't you have a bike or something in the bed of the truck?" she asked.  "I don't like it out here, and I'm getting cold."  "There's the blanket on the seat that we can use, but that's all.  I didn't bring any water or food, because we should have been in the city by now, so we will just have to make the best of it."  "We shouldn't stay here," Janet said.  "You aren't from here and don't know, but this area is sacred to the local Indian tribe.  It's an old burial ground, and their holy men are buried out here in the hills when they die.  Whites are mostly afraid to come here because of the spells that the shamans have put on the area.  They say that walking here with evil in your heart will desecrate the burial ground, and horrible things will happen to those who do it."  "Those are just old wives' tales," Danny mocked.  "You don't believe that stuff, do you?  Besides, we don't have a choice, at least for tonight."
         He switched on the headlights until he could get a small fire going, and grabbed a jean jacket from behind the seat of the truck.  She dug in her suitcase and put on some jeans and a sweatshirt.  They sat near the fire under the blanket in the desert night.  The desert came alive in the darkness, with animals that stayed out of the searing heat during the day and foraged for food in the coolness of night.  The unaccustomed noises scared her, and she snuggled nearer to him.  The smells of the fire and his nearness made her sleepy, but fear kept her awake until the wee hours, when she fell into an exhausted sleep.  When her measured breathing told him she was asleep, Danny eased her off his arm, covered her up, and walked away from the dying fire.  Once out of earshot, he flipped his cell phone open and dialed.  "Hello, Frank?  I'm out on Highway 21 with a dark haired girl, just the right type.  She's pretty and star-struck.  She'll do just what we want with a little persuasion...."
         Before dawn Janet awoke with a start, and looked up to see a man standing over her.  She jumped to her feet next to the state trooper, who was giving her an odd look.  "You finally made it," she exclaimed, giving him an excited hug.  "I didn't think you would ever get here!"  "Finally made it?" he asked.  "What do you mean?"  "Well, Danny and I had truck problems and he tried to call you, but couldn't get a signal last night, so we had to stay here all night." she replied, looking around.  "Did Danny flag you down on the road?  Where is he?"  "What's Danny look like?" asked the trooper.  When Janet described Danny, the trooper frowned, and then said, "I was driving down the main road when I was flagged down by an old man," he explained.  "He had long white hair pulled back into a scrawny pigtail, dark, weathered skin, and the look of one of the local American Indians.  He was wearing jeans, a blue work shirt with an old red vest over it, and dirty tennis shoes.  When I stopped and asked him if he needed a ride, he said that a young woman was in great danger and was on a side road near an old pickup truck, and wanted me to come get you as soon as possible.  He refused a ride, saying he would call his son, and I turned around to follow his directions.  They led me to the truck and to you.  And where's this Danny?"
         "He was right here with me by the fire when I fell asleep.  Do you suppose something awful happened to him?  This is the burial ground, you know."  "Stay here and I'll look for him.  He can't have gone far on foot."  "No," she said.  "I don't want to be alone out here.  I'll come with you."  "Suit yourself," he said and started walking.  "Base," he said into the small radio clipped to his shoulder, "I'm on Highway 21 about 20 miles in the desert, with one occupant of a DAV, searching for the other one who wandered away.  We'll need a tow truck."  "Base, 10-4.  I'll call Tony's Towing."
         The trooper walked for about ten minutes, with Janet close behind, and as the sun came over the hills they saw a flash of blue in the shadows.  They ran over to Danny, who was huddled in the fetal position, shivering uncontrollably. His face was pale, and his red hair was now white.  His skin was wrinkled and he looked like he was in his late 70's.  Janet ran to him and knelt down next to him.  "Danny," she whispered.  "What happened to you?  Danny?  Danny!  Talk to me!  What happened to your face, your hair?"  Danny slowly turned his head toward her and said, "I saw him.  The Indian in the red vest.  He told me that I was on holy ground and I should leave.  I laughed at him and told him I don't believe in old wives' tales.  That's when he touched my shoulder.  He touched me."  Danny's whole body began to shake with dry sobs, and he turned his head away. 
         Janet slowly stood up and looked at the trooper.  "Holy ground, it really is holy ground" was all she said, over and over again, as the trooper keyed the mike.  "Base, we'll need an ambulance, too"