There are two ways to die in the desert: too little water and too much.
Too little— Dehydration: head throbbing, tongue cracking, confusion— seizures, coma, death.
Too much— Flash floods: semi-liquid mass made of mud, uprooted trees, skull-sized rocks and couch-sized boulders barreling downstream— a locomotive without brakes.
The roar of a hundred lions announces the explosive debris flow, a ten-foot slurry— anything in its path: sand, trees, boots, backpacks— launched downstream.
A dry creek bed converts to rapids, churning like a jeweler’s tumbler.
In the aftermath, boulders set in the mudflow become unmarked headstones for the unfortunate creatures caught in the flow.
Water in the desert, whether abundant or scarce, will leave behind a graveyard.
Desert Dweller 