red stone. Wind hissed across the sand, smelling dry and old.Under my hands, fine particles of earth gritted against each other and melted away, leaving depressions for my fingers. The whole place reminded me of Arizona, only more so.
“This isn’t even the kind of Indian I am,” I protested. The drumbeat sped up a moment, getting louder. I twisted toward the north, where it was coming from. I wondered if I really should follow it.
“You should,” the voice said helpfully.
“Why? I can’t even see you. Why should I listen to you?” I looked around through my eyebrows, trying to find the voice’s origin. “Why can I listen to you? Hear you, I mean. What are you?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions. You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me. You can hear me because you’re dying, and it’s letting me slip in.” The voice sounded like this was a normal thing to say.
Despite the burning sunshine, shivers ran through me, and the drumbeat faltered. “Am I really dying?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re really dying.” The voice had a casual bedside manner. “You can choose not to, if you want.”
“Why the hell would I choose to die?” I climbed to my feet. He had to be around here somewhere.
“Because living means changing your entire worldview. That can be a very difficult thing to do.” His voice came from the same direction as the drumbeat.
“Oh, and dying is easy?” I began walking toward the north, glowering at the invisible voice.
“Dying is remarkably easy. Just stop going toward the drum, and in a few minutes, it’ll stop.”
“And then I’ll be dead?” I didn’t exactly break into a run, but I picked up the pace a bit. The drumbeat accelerated. “That’s my heart, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” the voice said.
“Are you a spirit guide?”
There was a pause that felt considering. “Yep.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Are spirit guides supposed to say ‘yep’?”
He laughed. “Yep.”
“How far is it to my—” I couldn’t say, to my heart. “To the drum?”
“Not too far. Would you like me to lead you there?”
I took a deep breath. “Please. I don’t want to die.”
A small coyote bounded in front of me, like he’d always been there. I looked behind us. His tracks were tangled with mine, across the sand. He yipped, and I looked forward again. He smiled a coyote smile, and leaped out across the sand in a long, lean run. “I can’t keep up with a running dog!”
“I’m not a dog. Come on.” He stretched out and I swore, but I began to run. The drumbeat sped up again, and my strides got longer, until I was running an easy fast lope across the dunes, my feet kicking up sprays of sand. The coyote stayed a few yards in front of me, cresting over a dune.
I followed recklessly, and the earth dropped out from under me. It turned scarred and pitted, like an asteroid crater with deep, sharp sides. I hit the ground where it began to slope again and rolled ass over teakettle, trying to protect my head as I bounced. The drumbeat sounded once, then stopped again, a rarestaccato. The coyote ran on, much more gracefully than I, then looped back to snap his teeth at me.
“Hurry. You don’t have time for this.”
“I fell! ”
He bared his teeth in a snarl and pranced away, jerking his head to urge me on. I stumbled to my feet and began to run again. The coyote snapped his teeth again, satisfied, and forged ahead.
The crater narrowed into an impact spot, less than a foot across and plummeting into blackness. The coyote dove into it, just barely fitting. I couldn’t possibly squeeze into it.
On the other hand, I couldn’t possibly be running across an uber-Arizona landscape inside my head, either, and that seemed to be happening without the slightest regard to what was possible. I took a deep breath and dove after the coyote—
—and the impact spot got much bigger, or I got much smaller. It turned into a tunnel, plunging downward. A trickle of water
“This isn’t even the kind of Indian I am,” I protested. The drumbeat sped up a moment, getting louder. I twisted toward the north, where it was coming from. I wondered if I really should follow it.
“You should,” the voice said helpfully.
“Why? I can’t even see you. Why should I listen to you?” I looked around through my eyebrows, trying to find the voice’s origin. “Why can I listen to you? Hear you, I mean. What are you?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions. You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me. You can hear me because you’re dying, and it’s letting me slip in.” The voice sounded like this was a normal thing to say.
Despite the burning sunshine, shivers ran through me, and the drumbeat faltered. “Am I really dying?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re really dying.” The voice had a casual bedside manner. “You can choose not to, if you want.”
“Why the hell would I choose to die?” I climbed to my feet. He had to be around here somewhere.
“Because living means changing your entire worldview. That can be a very difficult thing to do.” His voice came from the same direction as the drumbeat.
“Oh, and dying is easy?” I began walking toward the north, glowering at the invisible voice.
“Dying is remarkably easy. Just stop going toward the drum, and in a few minutes, it’ll stop.”
“And then I’ll be dead?” I didn’t exactly break into a run, but I picked up the pace a bit. The drumbeat accelerated. “That’s my heart, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” the voice said.
“Are you a spirit guide?”
There was a pause that felt considering. “Yep.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Are spirit guides supposed to say ‘yep’?”
He laughed. “Yep.”
“How far is it to my—” I couldn’t say, to my heart. “To the drum?”
“Not too far. Would you like me to lead you there?”
I took a deep breath. “Please. I don’t want to die.”
A small coyote bounded in front of me, like he’d always been there. I looked behind us. His tracks were tangled with mine, across the sand. He yipped, and I looked forward again. He smiled a coyote smile, and leaped out across the sand in a long, lean run. “I can’t keep up with a running dog!”
“I’m not a dog. Come on.” He stretched out and I swore, but I began to run. The drumbeat sped up again, and my strides got longer, until I was running an easy fast lope across the dunes, my feet kicking up sprays of sand. The coyote stayed a few yards in front of me, cresting over a dune.
I followed recklessly, and the earth dropped out from under me. It turned scarred and pitted, like an asteroid crater with deep, sharp sides. I hit the ground where it began to slope again and rolled ass over teakettle, trying to protect my head as I bounced. The drumbeat sounded once, then stopped again, a rarestaccato. The coyote ran on, much more gracefully than I, then looped back to snap his teeth at me.
“Hurry. You don’t have time for this.”
“I fell! ”
He bared his teeth in a snarl and pranced away, jerking his head to urge me on. I stumbled to my feet and began to run again. The coyote snapped his teeth again, satisfied, and forged ahead.
The crater narrowed into an impact spot, less than a foot across and plummeting into blackness. The coyote dove into it, just barely fitting. I couldn’t possibly squeeze into it.
On the other hand, I couldn’t possibly be running across an uber-Arizona landscape inside my head, either, and that seemed to be happening without the slightest regard to what was possible. I took a deep breath and dove after the coyote—
—and the impact spot got much bigger, or I got much smaller. It turned into a tunnel, plunging downward. A trickle of water
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