Gilbert Thompson's Story

"Flying Across the Dunes"

Matt looked out over the desert again at the distant village. He walked to his downed airship, collected his flashlight, water and gun and set out towards the village.

Cresting the dune Matt saw a group of nomads below. Frightened, he ducked below the dune’s edge, pulling out his revolver. He had been told at the start of his trip that he nomads were ruthless, unpredictable, and very violent to outsiders.

Matt moved along the dune hoping to circle around unseen. The dune top gave way sending him plummeting down its far side, in full view. He tumbled over and over, his head crashed onto a jutting rock. He lost consciousness in a halo of stars.

Opening his eyes, Matt saw the night sky above him. Hours must have passed. He was wrapped in a blanket, his head bandaged up and throbbing. He tried to get up but a hand gently pushed him back into the blankets. A nomad lifted Matt, giving him water to drink. The man called out to other nomads, who came with a group of camels. Together they carefully tied Matt onto one camel. He was too weak to resist. The party mounted their own camels and headed into the dark.

Matt drifted back into unconsciousness.

Waking in daylight, in a small clay hut, Matt saw a Doctor bending over him.

“Back with us,” the Doctor said. “Lucky the nomads found you, dressed your wounds and brought you here to me. You would have died!”    

Matt said, “They helped me? I had been told they killed strangers on sight!”

The Doctor looked at Matt, “Better to measure the nomads by how they treated you, than judge them by the words of people who have never spoken to a nomad.”

Gilbert Thompson is from Nanaimo, British Columbia