THE LONELY DESERT

By Tessa Harvey

    Evening was closing in a crimson fanfare of cloud and sky, the earlier presagers of storm vanquished entirely.

    Drowsily, Shayla signed in at the small Bottletree Bed and Breakfast. Out in front was an enormous baobab tree, squat and serene in the now lambent light of evening.

    She signed in at the polished desk and a small-built tidy man showed her to her room. The door was ajar which discomforted the manager as he scanned the door number and matching key. An older woman was perched on the bed, calmly filing her nails. "Excuse me, do you have the wrong key?" inquired the hotel owner. He looked puzzled. The other woman held up an identical key, smiling somewhat nastily.

    He turned away and beckoned, leading Shayla to another room, then went to get the appropriate key, aplogising. "Sometimes keys go missing."

    Shrugging away the incident, Shayla dumped the backpack and immediately found where she could charge her smart phone. The room was small, but there was a neatly made single bed, a small nightstand and lamp with a wattle-tree patterned shade in green and gold. The window overlooked the carpark with just enough room for about ten vehicles. She unpacked some fresh clothes and toiletries and searched for the bathroom. Again, it was clean. No moldy shower curtain, sliding glass door instead. The toilets, several in a separate block, were next door.

    A lovely looking lady came to find her later and offered an evening meal for a fair extra fee.

    Shayla slept well and hit the road very early as dawn was breaking in rose and silver. She did not notice the black SUV nor the people who watched her.