Aztlan: A Dane and Bones Short Story

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“Holy crap, it’s hot out here.” Bones Bonebrake mopped his brow and cast a challenging look at the sun high in the cornflower blue sky. “And don’t give me that ‘It’s a dry heat’ stuff. Hot is hot.”

“No argument here.” Dane Maddock plucked at the neck of his sodden shirt. It wouldn’t stay damp for long in this dry climate. He hunkered down on the tiny rock ledge where they’d stopped to take a breather, took a bottle of water from his pack, and took a long drink. He gazed out at the parched red landscape of southern Utah. Sharp peaks and low hills dotted the horizon, all shades of the same reddish-brown as the mountainside on which they perched. It had been a long time since he’d ventured into this part of the country, and he realized he’d missed the open skies and sweeping vistas.

“Are we close to the top?”

“Why? Are you ready to wuss out on me?” Bones’ heavy breathing belied his bravado.

“Hardly. We both know I’ll reach the summit before you do. Why don’t you just give it up?”

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