Rosa Jardine trembled in the rising desert sun, squinting at the approaching black vehicles weaving towards her, raising clouds of dust that approached closer and closer. Artie strained and growled in anticipation, threatening to break Rosa’s grasp on his collar. “Sit!” Rosa commanded the white and grey Husky, betraying a tremor in her voice. She relaxed her free hand, which had become a clenched fist. “I need you with me,” she almost whispered to the dog, which had sat down next to her leg.

A rusted black pickup truck, leading two black dune buggies, bore down on where Rosa and Arfie were standing, several feet away from the silver Datsun 280Z. Theo was inside the car, peeking between the front seats from under the brown blanket he was hiding under. From a hockey stick planted in the truck’s back corner bed stake pocket, a ragged, dusty Proud Americans Brigade flag of a large white star on stripes of red and blue flapped in the dust kicked up by it’s oversized tires. Rosa stepped back as it roared up to her, threatening to run her down, but she stood her ground, shaking a bit in fear. She calmed herself down a bit by stroking her long black pony tail with her free hand. Artie continue to growl, and started to bark menacingly when the truck and dune buggies came to sliding stop a few feet away from them.

As the dust rolled passed Rosa and Arfie, a thin young man in a PAB ball cap hopped out of the pickup truck, joined by two other young men with the same ball cap who were driving the buggies. Other than their identical PAB ball caps, they were dressed differently in jeans, t-shirts and boots. The driver of the pick-up truck sauntered up to Rosa, holding a shotgun resting on his shoulder, his cold grey eyes looking the young woman up and down. He spat in front of her, and his two unarmed buddies sidled up beside him, staring with the same grey eyes.

“Where are you going, honey?” the leader asked, not breaking his stare and resting the shotgun on the ground, leaning on it. His tanned bare arms where covered in tattoos of nude women, and he leaned forward, reaching out to grab her. Artie instantly leapt up and bit hard on the young man’s wrist, breaking free of Rosa’s grasp on his collar. All three men scrambled backwards, Arfie barking wildly and baring his teeth at all of them.

The leader lifted the shotgun to shoot, but Rosa called out to Arfie in desperation, “Arfie! Stop!” She grabbed with both hands the collar of the angry dog again, and pulled him close to her. She almost screamed at the group of young men, “What do you want from me?! I’m just stuck here… car trouble, OK?” she said and gestured nervously at the silver sports car. The men looked over at the car, and turned to each other, nodding.

One of the men said something in a low voice to the leader, who put the shotgun down again and changed his scowl to a grin, saying, “No trouble, honey! We want to help you out. You’re the one they’re talking about on the radio so much. C’mon, honey, let’s take you home…”

Rosa could hear the radio playing a PAB broadcast loudly from the open windows of the truck, picking out “silver foreign car”, “Hispanic woman” and “white dog”. She tensed up, stepping backwards towards her car. “I don’t know anything about that… I’m just driving around, on vacation.” The three men spread out, encircling her and Arfie.

“Stay back! Leave me alone!” Rosa cried out, starting to completely lose her nerve. Artie was growling and twisting wildly, trying to free himself as the men closed in on them.

The leader’s grin was gone, and his grey eyes were now narrow slits, the shotgun lifted and pointing at Rosa. She could see that his wrist was bleeding from where Arfie had bitten him. “You’re coming with us, CIM trash, whether you like it or not!” he shouted at her. Panicked, Rosa let go of the white Husky’s collar, who then lunged at the young man again. He lowered the gun and shot at the dog, but missing him and hitting the sand near Rosa’s feet. Rosa screamed and fell to the ground, enabling the two men behind her now to grab her by the arms. The leader re-loaded the shotgun and turned around, looking for the white dog. He soon saw the dog running towards him from behind, and he raised the barrel of the shotgun, aiming dead on to the charging dog.

Before he could discharge the gun, a gloved hand reached out from behind him and pulled the barrel up to the sky, so it shot into the endless blue sky. Arfie jumped against the leader, pushing him to the ground. With one swift move, the gun was out of the young man’s hands and at the feet of a short, hooded old man, brandishing a long sword. The old man was yowling and swearing, making wild movements and kicking sand and stones at him. “Go! I’ll empty your bowels for your friends to see, right here!” he shrieked, with unblinking, wide open eyes showing from under his hood. 

The leader kicked back away from the gesticulating old man and his flashing sword, and got up from the ground. He called out to his friends, “Let her go. We’ll call in about this girl and let the police deal with her.” He turned to Rosa and glowered, “You can stay with this crazy old man. He’s your kind, and we know where this weirdo lives.”

The two other men let go of Rosa and went back to their buggies. The leader got back into his truck and the three of them roared away, spinning their tires and spitting dust and rocks at the sword-yielding hooded man and the terrified young woman on the ground, hanging tight onto her panting white dog.

As the vehicles receded in the distance, the old man sheathed the sword and lowered his hood, revealing a kind face framed with short white hair and beard. He offered a gloved hand to Rosa and said, “These desert yahoos startle easily, but they’ll be back and in greater numbers. Come with me… I’ll give you safe haven.”

*** This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ***