If someone or something approaches, maybe I’ll hear them splashing in the water
He sat down and pulled his knees to his chest to await the dawn.
* * * *
Sunrise came before sleep and the aches in George’s body had not eased. His limbs had grown stiff from lack of slumber, but the morning brought a renewed sense of hope. As the day brightened, he realized that even though he could see, he still had no clue to where he was or in which direction to head. The stream was wider than he’d thought last night, but it curved and he couldn’t tell which way would take him back toward Route 66. He climbed up the bank and wandered through the trees before giving up on finding the highway.
Deciding the creek was better than staying in the trees, he returned to the stream. How long would it be before his parents began missing him? He told them he would call when he got to Los Angeles or somewhere along the way.
I can’t believe it was just yesterday morning when I left. I didn’t expect to be in L.A. for another three or four days.
With any luck, he’d find civilization before then and call them. How he hated to imagine what they would say. He could already hear his mother saying ‘I told you so.’ How would he ever live down the humiliation? George sat down again.
He had left his backpack in the car, which was long gone by now and his billfold was missing. He ran back along the bank to search for it but couldn’t remember exactly where he fell down the slope. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Collapsing to the soft soil next to the stream, George dissolved into sobs.
It took several long minutes for him to pull himself together and muster his resolve. Ignoring the pain, he set out in the direction he originally had this morning, walking along the bank when he could, wading in the water when he couldn’t. He found walking difficult missing one shoe but he persevered. He had to get home no matter what his parents’ reaction.
The sun peeked over the trees, promising another hot humid day. He didn’t know how long he had been walking but his legs grew sluggish and he fell several times.
Tears welled up in his eyes again but he forced them back.
No, I won’t. I must keep going.
He struggled to his feet. A muffled pop sounded in the distance. George perked up his ears, but the sound wasn’t repeated. It didn’t sound natural. More like an engine backfiring. Or a gun.
Forgetting his injuries, he sprinted along the bank toward the sound. After a few minutes of running, George slowed to a walk, gasping for breath. Never the athletic type anyway, his parents had discouraged participation in sports in favor of academic pursuits. He had no interest in them either until now, when his inability to run more than a short distance worked against him.
The pleasant odor of burning wood teased his nostrils. It urged him forward and he broke into a quick pace. Soon the soft purr of machinery slipped in behind the sounds of the forest. He followed the noise.
Giddy with excitement and hope, George stopped under a grove of china berry trees on the edge of a clearing. He saw a small cabin, nestled on the opposite side of the open space, partly shaded by the trees. A short distance to his right, the stream poured into a small pond.
The cabin didn’t appear to be in disrepair, although the paint was peeling on the exterior. To George, it looked like paradise. A small generator next to the left wall made the noise he heard
“Hello?” he called, his voice raspy from crying and panting. No one answered and not a soul was in sight. George ventured out of the cover of the trees into the clearing, walking toward the building. He repeated his greeting but got no response.
George knocked on the door. “Anyone home?” Only silence answered his call. He peered through a small window but the interior was too dark for him to make out any features.
He tried the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. Proceeding with trepidation, he stepped inside.
Although the cabin was in the shade, it was almost as hot inside as out. He found himself in a large rectangular room that served as kitchen, dining room and living room. The short wall to his left was lined with cabinets, a sink, a small stove and a refrigerator apparently powered by the generator outside. In front of him was a table with three mismatched chairs. A fireplace, with glowing embers, occupied the wall opposite the kitchen. George couldn’t imagine building a fire in this heat. Three more chairs of different types sat near the hearth. Across the room from the front door was another door, closed. Further to the right, closer to the fireplace was the back entrance. Small windows in the door and the wall next to it showed nothing but trees behind the cabin.