and brought with them a rumbling of
thunder. He picked up the pace, as the first cold drops of rain began to fall.
Within minutes it fell thick and heavy. The dry dirt road seemed to resist it
at first, but soon lost the battle, becoming a thick, sticky mud. He darted
over to a thick copse of trees to escape, but it only diminished the downpour,
it couldn’t stop it completely, and before long he was soaked.
It didn’t let up, continuing to hammer him as though it had
a personal vendetta. As the wind increased it brought the rain in sideways
under the limbs of his shelter, even when he tried to hide on the other side of
the trees. The thunder shook the very air, louder than anything he had ever
heard at home, and the lightning lit the cloud-created darkness in brilliant
but short flashes.
His eyes began to gray out, and his head began to pound, and
with it the noise in his head increased. No , he thought, not again.
7
Josh woke to a loud rumble of thunder. His back rested
against a tree and his clothes were soaked completely through. It had grown
darker, if that were possible. Had he blacked out through the entire day? The
whining of his head started up again and increased in volume rapidly and he
pressed his palms to his forehead. “Please stop,” he said out loud, “No more.”
He had to get moving again, but the pain increased with the
sound, threatening to split his head open. If it were night, the creature would
be back. He had no doubt it waited for him at the edge of the shadows, waiting
to taste his fear with its long dry tongue, and this time it would eat him,
piece by piece. He stumbled to his feet, but they slipped in the mud and he
fell to his hands and knees. He let out a single sob as his mind slipped away
again.
8
He lived! Josh looked up at the dissipating clouds in
relief. Was it even the same day? He didn’t know for how long he’d been
unconscious, but he shivered from his cold wet clothing. He lay on his stomach,
cheek pressed into the wet earth. He hadn’t bothered to grab spare clothes, but
he didn’t know how he would’ve kept them dry anyhow. The dirt road had
transformed to mud, and every dip held a puddle, but the clouds had thinned and
the sun finally broke through. With the sun returned some of the heat. The sun
had risen higher into the sky.
The noise of his head came back, but softly. I can’t get
scared again , he thought, I keep rebooting.
The sun felt good, but a cool breeze offset it, giving him
goose bumps. He started walking again. The only other option would be to head
back to his camp, but that felt like crawling back to die. As long as he
walked, as long as he got home, he’d be okay. His parents would know what to
do. They could be close, maybe they were at the lake with the other people.
The passing of the rain brought back the insects in full
force. More flies followed him, biting at his arms and face. He walked faster,
as fast as he thought he could get away with without taxing himself to the point
of blacking out again, trying to leave the flies behind. Whatever had gone
wrong in his head seemed to be getting worse. He felt miserable in his wet
clothing. He tried to ignore the cold, ignore the constant growling of his
stomach, to stop thinking about monsters, and ignore his malfunctioning head.
He had to focus on each step. Keep each foot moving. One foot in front of
another.
The sun shone down from almost straight above. The storm had
seemed to last forever, but with blacking out, he really didn’t know. How
long can people survive in the woods ? What would get him first? Hunger? The
monster? Freezing to death in the night? Maybe his head would explode and solve
all the other problems. The crows he heard every morning were probably waiting
for him to die, and they would have to compete to eat him with the monsters and
bears.
I’m dying, he thought, if I don’t get back soon,
I’m going to die alone in the mountains . His parents
thunder. He picked up the pace, as the first cold drops of rain began to fall.
Within minutes it fell thick and heavy. The dry dirt road seemed to resist it
at first, but soon lost the battle, becoming a thick, sticky mud. He darted
over to a thick copse of trees to escape, but it only diminished the downpour,
it couldn’t stop it completely, and before long he was soaked.
It didn’t let up, continuing to hammer him as though it had
a personal vendetta. As the wind increased it brought the rain in sideways
under the limbs of his shelter, even when he tried to hide on the other side of
the trees. The thunder shook the very air, louder than anything he had ever
heard at home, and the lightning lit the cloud-created darkness in brilliant
but short flashes.
His eyes began to gray out, and his head began to pound, and
with it the noise in his head increased. No , he thought, not again.
7
Josh woke to a loud rumble of thunder. His back rested
against a tree and his clothes were soaked completely through. It had grown
darker, if that were possible. Had he blacked out through the entire day? The
whining of his head started up again and increased in volume rapidly and he
pressed his palms to his forehead. “Please stop,” he said out loud, “No more.”
He had to get moving again, but the pain increased with the
sound, threatening to split his head open. If it were night, the creature would
be back. He had no doubt it waited for him at the edge of the shadows, waiting
to taste his fear with its long dry tongue, and this time it would eat him,
piece by piece. He stumbled to his feet, but they slipped in the mud and he
fell to his hands and knees. He let out a single sob as his mind slipped away
again.
8
He lived! Josh looked up at the dissipating clouds in
relief. Was it even the same day? He didn’t know for how long he’d been
unconscious, but he shivered from his cold wet clothing. He lay on his stomach,
cheek pressed into the wet earth. He hadn’t bothered to grab spare clothes, but
he didn’t know how he would’ve kept them dry anyhow. The dirt road had
transformed to mud, and every dip held a puddle, but the clouds had thinned and
the sun finally broke through. With the sun returned some of the heat. The sun
had risen higher into the sky.
The noise of his head came back, but softly. I can’t get
scared again , he thought, I keep rebooting.
The sun felt good, but a cool breeze offset it, giving him
goose bumps. He started walking again. The only other option would be to head
back to his camp, but that felt like crawling back to die. As long as he
walked, as long as he got home, he’d be okay. His parents would know what to
do. They could be close, maybe they were at the lake with the other people.
The passing of the rain brought back the insects in full
force. More flies followed him, biting at his arms and face. He walked faster,
as fast as he thought he could get away with without taxing himself to the point
of blacking out again, trying to leave the flies behind. Whatever had gone
wrong in his head seemed to be getting worse. He felt miserable in his wet
clothing. He tried to ignore the cold, ignore the constant growling of his
stomach, to stop thinking about monsters, and ignore his malfunctioning head.
He had to focus on each step. Keep each foot moving. One foot in front of
another.
The sun shone down from almost straight above. The storm had
seemed to last forever, but with blacking out, he really didn’t know. How
long can people survive in the woods ? What would get him first? Hunger? The
monster? Freezing to death in the night? Maybe his head would explode and solve
all the other problems. The crows he heard every morning were probably waiting
for him to die, and they would have to compete to eat him with the monsters and
bears.
I’m dying, he thought, if I don’t get back soon,
I’m going to die alone in the mountains . His parents
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