Part 10 (1/2)

11.

I have a feeling I know what you're thinking. You're getting tired of all this doom and gloom and listening to me b.i.t.c.h. You're probably tempted to make the switch to a light-hearted romance about teenage vampires or something. Please, bear with me. I'll admit that after spending the night on the tree trunk I was as depressed that morning as I'd ever been in my whole life. I was lonely, tired, starving, thirsty, in pain, and suffering from intense malaise. I've never been sure what that means, but it sounds important. Despite all that, I stumbled across a small miracle that morning.

At this point in my journey, I was on autopilot, simply putting one foot in front of the other. I wasn't even paying attention to which direction I was headed anymore. Luckily, I didn't get turned around and end back up at the crash site.

I must have been half asleep, walking with my eyes closed, when suddenly my right foot found empty s.p.a.ce instead of the ground and I was airborne. I rolled down a steep incline and landed in icy cold water.

Purely by dumb luck I stumbled onto a stream. The current was fairly strong, the water clear and cool, and it instantly energized and refreshed me. I gulped down as much as I my stomach could hold before I crawled to the sh.o.r.e and collapsed in the cool gra.s.s.

I was going to survive. I still needed some real food, but the immediate danger had been lack of water. Now that I had found an unlimited supply, I'd bought some precious time. As an added bonus, I now had a landmark to follow. Everybody knows that water eventually leads to civilization or at least the ocean. It was a h.e.l.l of a lot better than walking aimlessly through the trees. For the first time in a long time I was starting to feel optimistic again.

Not wanting to waste a minute of daylight, I forced myself to my feet and started walking downstream. It was liberating to know I could stop any time I wanted to get my fill of fresh water. I knew I was probably swallowing parasites and nasty microbes and I would be paying for it later, but I didn't care. The boost from the water gave me the strength to go on.

I climbed up the rim of the little gorge and walked along the edge. The vegetation around the stream was thick and it was slow going. At certain points, I was forced to climb down and walk in the water. That was almost as slow as clawing through the brush as I navigated over slippery rocks. A couple of times I slipped and fell, but I was fortunate enough not to twist an ankle or break a wrist.

My spirits started to fade along with the daylight. Even though I was certain following the stream was the right idea, the thought of spending another night in the jungle had me feeling down again. I had started keeping an eye out for another suitable tree to sleep on when I came across miracle number two of the day. I walked around a bend in the stream and was greeted by the first manmade object I'd seen since leaving the plane.

I broke into a jog, scrambled up the edge of the stream, and stepped onto a gravel road. A rickety wooden bridge spanned the water and the road continued on out of sight as it turned off into the woods ahead.

Standing in the middle of the bridge, I tilted my head back and screamed in victory. I don't remember if I said yahoo, or h.e.l.l yeah, or what, but I remember it felt d.a.m.n good. Let's face it, following water might lead you to civilization but a road is a sure thing.

I wasn't sure which way to go, but according to the sun, the way I was facing was sort of pointing north so I didn't hesitate and started walking. So far my instincts were turning out to be pretty accurate, so now was no time to start second-guessing myself. I headed down the road dreaming of a burger and a cold Pepsi at a roadside cantina.

12.

Aircraft Falcon Six Five Eight Alpha 4,734 feet and falling Julia sat forward in her seat, eyes shut. She was holding onto the armrests so hard her forearms were starting to burn yet she couldn't manage to let go. She kept reciting the first line of the Lord's Prayer again and again. It escaped her lips in one long and desperate chant.

Our Father who art in heaven our Father who art in heaven our Father who art in heaven...

Every time the plane pitched and changed position, she screamed and held on even tighter. Once or twice it seemed to level out from the dive - a second or two of relief - then it would dive again. She could hear shouting from the c.o.c.kpit above the constantly changing pitch of the engine noise. Buffeting air slammed violently against the fuselage.

She dared a quick look out the window and saw the ground below, very close below, and she knew they were going down. Oh G.o.d they were going to crash. They were over land now instead of water and she couldn't decide if that was better or worse. The inside of her plastic face mask was fogged from her panting, and she couldn't breathe. She ripped off the hood and mask and sucked in the fresh air of the cabin.

Suddenly, it felt as if her seat tried to buck her off like a bull. The seat belt cut painfully into her gut. The entire interior of the plane seemed to rain down on her, and a second later her breath was taken away as the cabin instantly depressurized as the fuselage shattered from the impact.

The world was still. Julia opened her eyes and thick smoke stung them. She breathed in a lungful of the toxic haze and coughed. She fumbled for the seat belt release and collapsed to the floor. Pain shot through her chest. Looking down, she noticed blood for the first time. Something was sticking out, just below her collar bone. A sharp piece of metal or plastic, she couldn't tell.

The rear of the plane was open to the outside world and she crawled toward it, following the smoke as it escaped out the back. She was almost free of the wreckage when she looked back.

Pretty boy.

Ignoring the primal urge screaming at her to get away from the crash and run to safety, she went back. Her medical training and ethics overrode her survival instincts for the time being. He was covered in debris but she didn't see any obvious signs of trauma. He was still unconscious. Lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d. There wasn't enough time to undo all his restraints; even so, she probably wouldn't be able to carry him.

The cabin continued to fill with smoke and Julia knew she had to do something fast. She couldn't help but think of the all the times she'd seen a movie where the hero ran away from a crashed vehicle seconds before it exploded behind him. She was pretty sure that didn't happen in real life, but it didn't change the fact she was expecting to be engulfed in a fiery explosion any second.

The stretcher was secured to the deck of the plane by a few simple latches and she managed to get them all released. It was designed to rise to waist level and move on wheels, but she kept it flat, knowing the wheels wouldn't do much good.

Julia lifted one end of the stretcher, ignored the searing pain in her chest, and pulled. Adrenaline coursing through her veins gave her the strength to pull it through the wreckage and out into the sunlight. She slipped and fell, lifted it up again, and pulled.

Once outside and free of the cabin, she sucked in the delicious fresh air and tried to catch her breath. They were only a few feet away from the burning jet engine and she knew she needed to pull him farther away.

Gathering what was left of her energy she lifted the end of the stretcher again and dragged him as far as she could go. Her chest was really screaming now. Every muscle in her body seemed to be protesting. She finally dropped the stretcher and fell to the ground.

The adrenaline was quickly wearing off and Julia was having a hard time breathing. Her breaths grew shallower. She touched her chest and her fingers came away b.l.o.o.d.y.

Julia crawled a few feet, trying to escape the pain. She gave up and rolled onto her back. The warm sun felt good on her face. She closed her eyes to rest for a moment. As soon as she got her strength back, she would drag pretty boy into the shade and wait for help. She just needed to rest for a minute.

13.

As far as roads go, the one I was walking on was barely suitable for horseback riding. I was beginning to worry that it had been abandoned long ago and was leading me nowhere. Despite the overgrown vegetation, deep ruts, and potholes, it did lead somewhere because I came across an old handwritten sign. The road forked off in two directions and the sign pointed to the left. It said B6/Boones Run. I obeyed the sign and turned left.

The sign made me feel a little better, knowing I was heading toward B6/Boones Run, whatever that was, but it was getting dark and I was exhausted. I decided to keep walking as long as I could. My mouth was dry and I missed my fresh water supply from the stream. I thought of a couple of containers back at the plane I could have used to carry water and cursed myself for being so stupid. In addition to my nagging thirst, the growing pain in my abdomen was starting to concern me. I checked the wound site before it got dark, and as far as I could tell, it looked good. It wasn't red or oozing pus or anything like that. I chalked it up to overexertion and tried to ignore it. I'm sure under normal circ.u.mstances, a doctor would have told me to rest and take it easy so it could heal.

I almost pa.s.sed a building in the darkness and only noticed it because I happened to turn my head to the right after slapping an aggressive bug on my shoulder. I quietly walked up the path toward it and stopped for a minute to look for movement in the dark windows. I couldn't see any lights from inside and didn't hear anything except the steady hum of the nocturnal insects around me. I stalled for a few minutes because the place was a little creepy. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what was inside.

Calling it a building was a little generous. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't much more than a shack. A rundown one, at that. If someone was inside, I wasn't exactly eager to meet them for several reasons. For one, it was the middle of the night and whoever lived there didn't have any close neighbors that I could see. They probably wouldn't be too keen on having strangers calling. Not to mention I probably looked and smelled terrible. I also had a feeling they wouldn't understand English. I still had no idea where I was, but my best guess was somewhere in South or Central America. If the plane was headed to the States then I figured that's where we would have crashed. I took one semester of Spanish in high school and just barely pa.s.sed with a D. Besides asking for agua, I don't think I'd be able to communicate very well.

I crept up to the door, knocked a few times, cleared my throat, and called out ”h.e.l.lo.” Nothing. I knocked a little louder and waited. I tried the door latch and it opened. I pushed the door open, calling out one last time. It was pitch dark inside and I couldn't see a d.a.m.n thing. The air was thick and smelled a little dank and musty. I carefully took a few steps forward with my arms out in front of me, making sure I wasn't about to walk into anything. As my eyes started to adjust, I could make out a small table by the wall. Sitting among a few other items was the shape of a lantern. It was one of those battery-powered jobs. I turned it on and the weak fluorescent bulb lit the room.

As far as jungle shacks go, it was pretty much as I expected. There was a crummy-looking cot in the corner, an old card table with a couple of chairs in the middle of the room, and a little kitchen area in the other corner. On the counter was one of those big orange containers you see get dumped over football coaches when they win a big game. I tested the spigot, and what looked like fresh water poured into my hand. I gave it a taste and indeed it was. I filled up the cleanest looking cup I could find on the shelf. The water was room temperature and tasted a little stale, but still hit the spot.

I downed a second cup and rummaged through a little cupboard that served as a pantry. It was pretty spa.r.s.e, and most of the items were useless without cooking. A container of rice, some sort of grain-looking stuff, spices, dry pasta, things like that. I held up a jar to the light and it looked like some sort of pickled meat. To this day, I have no idea what animal it came from, but I cracked open the jar and gave it a taste. I gotta tell you, it wasn't half bad. A little gamey and chewy but it was meat all the same. I devoured half the jar. I completed my little meal with a banana. It was brown and mushy, but still edible.

I inspected the shack some more. Considering the short shelf life of a banana, it was obvious the cabin wasn't deserted. I put my hand on the small potbellied stove in the corner and it was slightly warm. I knew I was pus.h.i.+ng my luck and it would've probably been smart to get the h.e.l.l out of there before the occupant returned. Then again, I was dead tired, and the thought of going back out there and walking down the road was demoralizing to say the least. I guess I could have found a spot off to the side of the road to sleep, but I couldn't take another night of all those creepy crawlies all over me.

I decided to take my chances and spend the night in the shack. I dragged the mat off the cot and put it on the floor right in front of the door. That way, if the occupant came home I would be woken up by the door hitting me. It was a pretty dangerous idea, but I was so tired it seemed brilliant at the time. The second my head hit the mat, I was out cold.

I woke the next morning and slowly rose from the floor. It was the first time I'd gotten a decent night's sleep in a while. Despite that, I was tempted to lie back down and sleep for the rest of the day. I didn't want to push my luck though. I had a nagging feeling whoever lived there would be home soon and I needed to get out of there. My whole point of this trek was to find people and get help, but I didn't have high hopes the occupant had a cell phone or a car to drive me to the hospital.

I rummaged around though the junk in the cupboard and found an empty bottle I could fill with water. I finished off the jar of pickled meat and headed outside. The coast was clear and I headed to the road.

Scattered around the front yard was salvaged junk I didn't see last night in the dark. Old tires, sc.r.a.p metal, nail-filled lumber, you name it. One little item did catch my eye, and that was a crusty looking old bicycle. It was in pretty rough shape but the tires still had air and the chain looked decent. I pushed it onto the road, got on, and gave it a go. Success! I hadn't been on a bike since I was in high school; but, as they say, you never forget. I pedaled down the road and glanced back at the shack that had taken me in last night. I felt a little guilty for stealing the bike and food. But, after all, I'm a convicted killer. I've done worse.

14.