CHAPTER ELEVEN ~ANDY’S SHANTY~ Along a stretch of desert highway, heading in the direction of Las Vegas, Nevada, is a place where legends live. Out in the wastelands where coyotes and rattlesnakes thrive, where and elderly man who goes by the name of Andy Mc Fee lives in a dilapidated shanty with a large water wheel attached to its side, spinning slowly beside a stream bed that apparently had dried up some time ago. Two young people, very much in love, were on their way to a wonderful honeymoon when fate struck with a subtle derailment, when Richard and Mary Whitman’s 1965 Thunderbird protested the 104 degree weather with white steam pouring from underneath the hood, and the car came to a chugging halt in the mid-afternoon Sun. Richard, a dark haired, clean cut man of thirty, rigidly palmed the turquoise steering wheel as he then wiped the sweat from his brow onto an already soaked, faded t-shirt. “I don’t believe this! Piece of, errragh!” Richard continued to palm the steering wheel in frustration, trying his best not to curse in front of his new bride, especially on their honeymoon. This was quite un-characteristic of Richard as he was always calm and patient, though, driving in the scorching heat, in a car with no air conditioning, and at present a defunct radiator, would drive anyone to the brink of insanity. Mary was Richard’s logical voice, ninety-percent of the time. “Honey, there must be trucks that come through here, besides, we can’t be the only newlywed's going to Vegas.” Mary explained calmly. A woman of thirty-seven, Mary was radiant, with naturally curly, dark auburn hair that shimmered like copper thread in the sunlight, which complimented her understanding dark brown eyes. Exiting the vehicle, Richard used a folded oil rag to open the hood, letting the searing hot steam escape while Mary walked to the edge of a short levy. “Mary, hon—Be careful.” Richard said in an even voice. “We don’t know what’s out here.”
Squinting, nearly blinded by the white hot sun, Mary surveyed the levy, shielding her eyes with her hands, suddenly remembering that she had a pair of nine-ninety five sunglasses that she bought at the last chance gas station some distance back. With everything becoming clearer through her shades, Mary saw something that defied any kind of logic, an old beat up shanty with a water wheel hanging directly over a six foot deep, dried up stream bed, squeaking as it turned as if no one had told the waterwheel that the stream had gone. Just in front of the weather beaten shanty was an old man, pulling a bucket of sand up from a well, dumping the dry earth into a bucket as some of the finer particles blew back into the desert wind. As the old man stood upright, lifting the wooden bucket with one hand, he caught sight of Mary, watching him from the levy. “Hello there!” The man waved with his free hand. “Rich?!” Mary called to her husband who was looking down both ends of the one lane, dirt highway, trying desperately to spot an oncoming vehicle, then looking over to his wife. “You’d better come and see this!” Mary shouted, pointing down the levy. Richard walked over to where Mary was standing, looking though his own pair of bargain shades. “Oh my God!” “Hello there youngsters!” The old man shouted up, still waving with his free hand. “Baby, we’re in Vegas by nightfall!” Richard pronounced excitedly. “But honey he just” Before Mary could finish her sentence, her other half was already trekking his way down the red gravel hill. “Come on Mary, we can get some of that water from his well, dump it in that out dated radiator and were outta here!” Richard waved his arms enthusiastically as his feet slightly sunk into the fine sand as he made his descent to the bottom. Mary simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head inapprehensive agreement, following Richard down.
“Boy are we glad to see you mister—We just got stranded and we need some water for our” As Richard and Mary set foot on even ground, taking one step towards the old man who was at least a good fifteen-yards away, they were instantly transported within two feet of where the old man was standing.
“Radiator”
Richard finished his sentence as he and Mary looked around, completely confused and disoriented, both looking back at the levy, where they stood only moments before.
“Hmph, must be heat stroke, I could have sworn I just finished coming down that hill.” Richard said, looking at Mary, then both locking eyes with the white haired old man who was balding along the top of his head with the deep lines of his face showing that he might have been out here for most of his life. “Water, sure, plenty to go around, just pulled some up from the well when I noticed your misses up on the levy yonder.” Mary whispered in Richard’s ear. “I saw him pouring sand into that bucket.” As Mary pointed to the almost antique looking wooden bucket, it sloshed with pure water that glistened and danced when the sun hit it just so. “I-I could have sworn that you were just pouring sand into that bucket.” Mary said putting her hand to her forehead in a confused way. The old man just smiled and laughed. “This here desert can play some mean tricks on the eyes, why don’t you folks come in I’ll fix ya up some cool ice tea, while you wait fer your car ta cool off a bit, I don’t get much company through here.” The old man smiled pleadingly, still holding the bucket of water with the Sun shimmering invitingly on it. “Well . . .” Richard took off his sunglasses, looking at Mary. “We have been driving for a long time, and I’m parched to the bone.” “Great! I’ll meet you folks inside—” The old man smiled, turning abruptly and walking towards the shanty when the wind began to stir the sand on the desert floor. “Looks like a storm’s comin’ up.” The old man said as he did not stop walking towards the shack of a house. “What’s your name?” Mary raised her voice over the wind blowing faster and louder. “Andy, Andy Mc Fee—” He shouted as he had reached the steps of his porch and went inside. Mary poked at Richard. “I don’t like this, something feels wrong, I saw him pull sand from that well and dump it into the bucket.” Richard held Mary comfortingly at her shoulders. “Honey, he’s a harmless old man, besides, this storm looks like it may stay for a while and I really need a rest, what’s he going to do? Spring from the shadow’s with an axe? Come on he looks like he’s at least seventy. Trust me, I can handle this ok?” Mary nodded, not at all comforted by her husband’s reassurances, but all the same, she knew the only way to get water into the radiator was to go inside and humor the old man, at least for a little while.
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