We waited by the garbage bag on the first night.
We had nothing to do but eat, so we ate. Once we finished, we were tired with full stomachs, so we slept.
I awoke third; Sergio and Truman were already eating from their tupperware. No cutlery was provided, so they were shoveling handfuls of ground beef into their mouths with no respect for etiquette. I reached into the previously full garbage bag and found a container with three slices of bread in it.
All the containers were the same size, and where there was one food, there were four others. In addition to the containers of food, at the bottom of the bag, we had found five separate gallons of water. We had only opened one and passed it around the circle of us the night before. No one complained, but no one had hurried to take the jug after Sergio.
After me, Wendy woke, and then Red soon after. We all ate generous portions of breakfast, and then sat facing the van’s tracks, waiting.
We waited, all in a row, the five of us, watching the horizon for something. Anything.
After what felt like hours, Truman stood up. We all looked at him quizzically, except Red, who continued to stare ahead.
Truman gestured that we should all turn back around; he was going to turn away from us, hands held together, legs apart, head up. We expressed confusion. He made an elaborate motion of unzipping his fly. We immediately understood and turned back around.
Listening to someone urinate is embarrassing for all parties involved. There was no breeze, no background noise, so we could hear almost every noise made.
We heard him walk thirteen, fourteen, fifteen paces away from us, and quickly unzip. There was silence for a moment, and then the deluge of urine hit the ground, louder than any waterfall.
Sergio cleared his throat. Wendy smirked a little. Red stood up. We heard him walk the same path Truman did, and soon the sound of Truman’s flow was joined by Red’s. Truman’s stopped and he came to sit back down, stopping for a container of rice on the way back. Once Red had returned, Sergio sighed and got up. He went to the puddles and added to them. I too felt the call of nature, stood back to back with Sergio, and emptied myself.
Once we were all sitting down, Truman and I looked at Wendy expectedly. She dryly looked back and shook her head.
After we all had some lunch, Sergio got up. He motioned that he would walk in the van’s tracks until the sun was at a forty-five degree angle, and then come back.
We all shrugged or nodded, and off he went.
He started man-size, and kept shrinking away.
Truman started poking at the sand, and eventually began writing in it.
“I’m bored.” “Anyone want to play tic-tac-toe?” “I hope they come back soon.”
Wendy lay down, and appeared to be sunbathing. Truman napped. Red and I watched Sergio. Eventually we were all asleep in the afternoon sun, dreaming of rescue.
I had been lying awake for a while, pondering what to do about the ever decreasing vacancy in bowels, when Wendy stirred. I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep. She stepped quietly around us, and walked the thirteen, fourteen, fifteen paces away. As she came back, he footsteps were steady, but after about five paces, she began to run back. She shook us all awake, and pointed in the direction Sergio had gone.
There was no sign of anything on the horizon except the setting sun.