In that moment, when flames licked the horizon and the sky burned with an orange glow, Taylor knew everything was going to be alright. An orange light washes over him. It feeld like a receding tide of stress relieving so many fears. The exhaling wind across the desert brings a taste of night’s chill. Taylor watches the blue fade to purple and then black. The truck’s headlights watches over the dry creek bed. The vast blanket of desolation buries any signs of life. His eyes search the horizons for traces. Satisfied there is nothing, he drives the truck down into the sand. The truck groans and lurches downward. Tires find rocks only to kick them up. A cloud forms illuminated by pale moonlight. It dances within a fading breeze. Taylor halts the truck where the creek once formed braids. It seems fitting to use the dead creek. His cargo needs not be found. Nor identified. He loosens the back of the trap to reveal a shovel. The sand gives easy. The headlights produce long growing shadows. The Earth opens wide to accept its prize. In the distance, calls of the night begin. The return of noise is partially unnerving. Distance is enough to restore the peaceful feeling. The moonlight plays with the senses. He back fills the hole quickly. His eyes scrub the shadows for movement. In a place with little respect to time, he begins to question if he overextended his stay. Quick feet find the path to his truck. An easy feeling resumes once he is inside. A deep breath and quick check of the mirrors calms down the pulse. Taylor starts up the truck. He drives across the disturbed sand a few times back and forth to smooth out the scene. Its perfectly staged now. Time to leave the place for civilization. Down a loose sand road another truck comes as he goes. Everything will definitely be alright in a few more miles.