Crash land in the Promised Land

Five days had passed since the rocket ship had crash landed. The two pilots chose to leave the crash site to seek help from their dire and desperate situation. It was a monotonous journey over dunes and sandy parched ground, their eyes dry from the heat. Lethargy was taking over like a virus, indiscriminately attacking muscles and joints.

Their precious rations slowly became depleted along with their will to survive. It was exhausting just to imagine staying alive. Prayers became more frequent in a desperate attempt to be rescued by either human, or the hand of God.

The scorching heat blazed down on the men as the hazy desert shimmered in the heat. They began to see things that were not there, imagining the voices of strangers who did not exist.

“You got any more water in your canteen?” Mack said, struggling to speak, his mouth dry and raspy.

“A little. You out?” Jay said, turning to his copilot.

“Couple of swigs left.”

The sun had sucked any moisture from their lips, causing them to split and crack, making it painful to speak.
It should have been a relief spotting an outcrop, but expecting it to be another illusion, their joy remained elusive.

As they approached, feet heavy like concrete and barely leaving the ground, the illusion began to look real and not just a figment of their imagination.

Mack, using all his strength, placed his hand on Jay’s shoulder and pointed to the outcrop.

The rocks jutted out of the dry ground like a small island in an ocean of sand. Dotted around the rocks lay small trees and bushes; brave undergrowth that defied the sun’s relentless heat.

The two pilots grazed the bushes with their dry hands as they walked by, grabbing at the leaves and confirming their existence.

They fell into the shade of a large rock, exhaustion forcing them to close their eyes and rest.

Mack stirred an hour later and drank the last of his water, tipping the canteen and savoring every last drop. He looked at Jay’s chest and was glad to see him still breathing.

“Help us, god,” Mack whispered. “Hear my prayers, Jehovah.”

Jay started mumbling. His head shook from side to side, being tormented in his sleep.

“No-no-no. The ship’s angle is all wrong. We need to pull up!” he shouted.

“Jay, Jay, wake up.” Mack grabbed his arm.

Jay stirred and looked at Mack.

“Hey buddy, are we still in this mess?”

“Yup.”

Jay opened his canteen and tilted the empty receptacle. He tossed it to the ground.

Just then, Mack pushed away from the rock and lent forward; he was startled by a sensation on his back.
The two pilots turned to see water streaming from the rock. They could not believe their eyes.

“What the heck?! Fill your canteen, man, fill it!”

Mack quickly grabbed his canteen and began filling it. Jay scrabbled in the sand for his and did the same. As they filled their canteens, they put their lips to the cold water and marveled, wide-eyed, at the miraculous fountain.
Jay grabbed his shirt and soaked it till it was drenched. Wrapping it around his head, he laughed—a laugh of surprise and disbelief.

The men lapped up the water until their thirst was completely quenched. They lay in a large puddle of water like two soggy seals in the shade of the rock.

“What do you say we check out this outcrop, partner?”

Just as they were about to move, they heard someone or something behind them, scratching in the dirt. Mack curiously popped his head over a small rock and noticed two quail, sitting still and strangely subdued.

“Will you look at that!”

He grabbed both birds by the feet.

“Get a fire going. Tonight, we eat like kings!!” Mack proclaimed, smiling from ear to ear with joy.

They licked their lips as the two birds cooked on the small fire. The tantalizing smell of meat was almost too much for them to bare. Finally, it was time to eat. They relished every bite, licking crumbs and oil residue from their fingers.

“This is God.”

“What?”

“In the Bible, 3,000 years ago, God provided quail and manna from heaven for the Israelites, his chosen people. God made his prophet Moses bring water from a rock, just like this one.”

“How do you know all that?” said Jay.

“My father was a preacher; I was raised on those Bible stories.”

“You really think this is a miracle?”

“What else could it be?” Shrugging his shoulders. “We were at death's door, then miraculously we found water and food? Of course, it’s God.”

“I don’t know, but it’s amazing we even survived that anomaly on reentry into the atmosphere. The static and radiation were cataclysmic. We should never have survived!”

“Where do you think we are?”

“We could be anywhere—the Sahara, Gobi, Nevada. Who knows?”

I don’t even think Houston knows where we are; otherwise, they would have sent a rescue party.”

“Listen, let’s get some sleep, and tomorrow we will try to find a village, people, or something?”

The temperature receded slightly as the moon replaced the sun, and the sky was dotted with myriads of twinkling stars. The hours passed, and the heat began to increase, welcoming in a new day.

The pilots awoke to see five bearded men standing over them. They wore strange clothes, sandals and robes. But then again, maybe that was normal attire for this part of the world.

The two pilots were delighted to see people, even if they were startled initially. They furiously tried to explain who they were and that their ship had crashed on a trip back from the moon.

The bearded and sun-parched men looked puzzled, looking at each other for answers. Yet they seemed entertained at the gestures and drawings in the sand.

“A radio,” Mack made a phone shape with his hand and held it up to his face. “We need to make contact with Houston, United States.”

“Mack, it’s useless, they don’t understand,” Jay said hopelessly, shaking his head.

The bearded men did not speak English. It seemed they spoke Arabic, or Hebrew.

Finally, Mack made out a word that the men kept saying. He frowned and looked confused. It was a name;

‘Moses.’
​
Mack turned to Jay. “It’s not where we are, it’s when we are!”