Concerning "The Event: A Story - Part I"

 My routine after waking up is as follows:

1. Use the toilet, wash my face, brush & floss my teeth

2. Make breakfast for Beau and myself (usually some form of eggs)

3. Get dressed - getting dressed consists of:

1. Wearing all black - underwear, socks, digital watch, long-sleeve shirt, pants, belt, shoes (boots or sneakers - weather dependent), shoulder holster, balaclava, jacket (water repellant), gloves (leather)

2. Gearing up (all black in color) - Leatherman Charge Plus multitool in left front jacket pocket, J5 Tactical V1-Pro flashlight in right front pocket of jacket, Sig P365 SAS 9mm handgun in shoulder holster (extra magazine in left rear pants pocket), Mammut 9.8 Crag Rope (60 m) - coiled, warn across my body, Short Ka-Bar fixed blade knife in sheath strapped to the outside of my left calf, Dangerfield Praxis lock pick set in left inside jacket pocket, Zeiss Terra ED Compact Binoculars in right inside jacket pocket

3. Backpack (also black) containing two bottles of water, first aid kit, nylon cord, a compact mirror, one gallon Ziploc bag half-filled with cotton balls

It is 1:30 am when Beau and I start up the stairs toward the door. Beau bounds ahead of me, excited to be going for his daily walk. I am fortunate to have Beau by my side. When The Event happened, those who survived rarely did so with anyone they cared for. I, on the other hand, not only have a companion but have one that is loyal. And, because he’s a black lab, it allows me to take him with me on missions. If Beau had any colors on him other than black, I wouldn’t take that risk. Luckily I can, for in all situations, he is my comfort.

Beau waits patiently for me on the second step from the top. He never barks to go outside. In fact, he rarely barks at all. I give him a quick scratch behind the ears prior to opening the door. Unlike most doors, this one is horizontal and is situated above us. Gingerly, I push the door up just far enough for there to be a crack. I survey the surroundings for approximately ninety seconds. I see no lights, movement, or anything out of the ordinary.

Beau is starting to get anxious. He knows it is his turn to do the surveying. I open the door just far enough for him to squeeze out and he disappears. I will know it is completely safe to emerge from our bunker once he returns. Another ninety seconds later, his nose appears, and I’m confident no one’s about.

I exit and set the door back down. Closed, it is impossible to know there is a hidden entrance. The door is covered in sod and various organic debris. It blends in perfectly with the forest floor.

Beau and I head towards town. This morning we’re taking Babylon trail. We have seventeen different tracks we take to town and never use the same one in any two week span. Each path has a name. Seven are named after the dwarfs in Snow White (Happy, Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful, Doc), seven after the locations of the ancient wonders of the world (Giza, Babylon, Olympia, Ephesus, Halicarnassus, Rhodes, Alexandria), and three after my former family (my mother Claire, my father Walt, my sister Kiersten). The purpose of having so many different avenues to and from the bunker is to keep any one path from wearing down, which might give away our location. We don’t need a flashlight to aid in navigation because once breakfast is eaten, I turn off the lights and dress in the dark. This allows my eyes time to adjust to the darkness and I can see well enough to find my way through the woods.

It takes about half an hour to reach town. We exit the trees on Tree Line Road. To the right is the house where the Perrys used to live and 500 feet beyond their driveway is Gleason Rd. Gleason goes all the way to the north end of town which is where we want to go. Though it’s more dangerous to enter buildings within the town limits, if someone did notice we’d been there, it would be more difficult for them to determine where we came from and where we went upon leaving. Of course, Beau and I don’t follow the roads.

After checking for any suspicious activity (I’m mostly concerned about night patrols), Beau and I dash across the street into some more trees. There is a thin stretch of woods that will take us across Moon Brook, through a field of solar panels, behind the waste management facility, and to the rear of the high school.

When we reach the rear of the high school, the lights all over the grounds are shining brightly. I’m amazed they’ve lasted this long. Beau and I stay along the perimeter, pass by the football field, and just as we are about to step out into the parking lot, I drop to the ground. Beau has learned that anytime I do this he is to do the same. I don’t move and barely breathe. A truck is sitting in the parking lot. I’m not sure what to do. If the truck is occupied and the occupant was looking my way, there is no way whomever it is didn’t see me. However, though I’ve never seen a car here before, nowadays it is not uncommon to find vehicles abandoned in random places.

After a few minutes of lying facedown on the ground, I’m certain I wasn’t spotted. I reach inside my jacket and pull out my binoculars. I inch forward until I can barely see the front of the truck and take a look. There is nobody visible in the front seat. That’s not to say there isn’t someone lying down in either the cab or bed of the truck, but I will have to get closer to be able to make that determination. I replace the binoculars and slowly army crawl until I am nearly under the front bumper. While traversing that 100 feet or so, I listen intently for any noise that might indicate someone walking around outside the vehicle. I have neither seen nor heard anything. I get into a crouch and slowly stand up. When my eyes are just above the hood I’m able to reconfirm the absence of someone sitting in the truck. I crouch walk around the driver’s side, keeping the truck between me and the open parking lot beyond. From this position I can see through the cab and into the bed of the truck. Still nobody. Finally, when I reach the driver’s side window, I stand up and look inside. It and the rear of the pickup are empty.

I sigh relief and monitor our surroundings. Beau and I are the only two about.

The football field parking lot is situated on the corner of Rt 4 and Gleason Rd. It is now close to 2:30 am. I know how unlikely it is that we will run into anyone at this time of night, especially with the population decimated by The Event, yet I cannot take a chance of anyone seeing us. If they did, they would come for me, and not only for my supplies. They would use me in whatever manner they might desire.

With caution, Beau and I cross Rt 4, cut between Joe’s Pizzeria and The Craft Sisters (which used to be, eye-rollingly, a craft supply store). Behind these two buildings is a small pond, which Beau and I skirt, and then another field of solar panels. (Our town was very green energy conscious before The Event.)

Beau weaves in and out of the stanchions as I follow behind. By now he knows where we are headed and he’s leading the way. When we reach the far side we have arrived at our destination: Pinewood Estates.

There are dozens of houses in this development. I’ve searched many, and yet, there are many more I have not. Tonight we’re going to a house on Tuttle Meadow Drive, about two-thirds of the way across the development. It is a house I’ve been wanting to check for quite some time now.

Because so much time has passed since The Event occurred, we have learned where every light with a motion detector is located and can avoid them with ease. Beau and I maneuver deftly, through backyards and around fences, until we arrive at the backdoor of 18 Tuttle Meadow.

I quickly check the door and it’s locked. This is unsurprising, but there’s no need to try more difficult methods if one can walk right in. Even if it had been unlocked, this is where Beau and I would separate. During these missions he acts as my lookout. If he senses anything amiss, he will alert me. Because he does not bark, he will scratch at the door. You might not think I would be able to hear such a small sound, but at this time of night with silence all around, it is not difficult to hear at all.

I climb onto the porch railing to my left. I jump up and grab hold of the corner brace above me. Being slight, strong, and agile, these maneuvers are easy for me to perform. I swing my body from side to side and when I have enough momentum, I let go with my right hand and grab the edge of the porch roof. I can now move my foot up onto the brace I was just holding and then push/pull myself onto the roof.

I can access two windows from this position. I’m expecting both to be locked, but luck is on my side today. The window nearest me is open. This happens from time to time because The Event occured without warning, so people didn’t have the opportunity to barricade themselves inside their homes.

I slowly open the outer screen and slip silently inside. I’m in a child’s bedroom. There are toys all over the floor, wild animals are painted on the walls, and there is a bookcase filled with picture books. I don’t waste any time there; I will not find anything of use. Bedrooms, especially those used by children, rarely contain objects valuable to a survivalist.

The door to the hallway is open and I creep to the stairs. Everything is carpeted which makes it easier to move silently. I go down the steps as quickly as I can, making sure my feet are close to the wall where the steps are least likely to creak.

At the bottom of the stairs, on my right, is a bathroom. I enter and close the door behind me. I take out my flashlight and conduct a quick search. I find a box of band-aids and a small bottle of iodine. There are other things that could be useful but already have a cache of back at the bunker. I throw the two things I want into my backpack and make my way to the kitchen.

Before entering the kitchen, however, I spot a bookcase in the living room. I cannot pass up an opportunity to grab some books if they are available. I am a voracious reader. I will read almost anything. The only genre I don’t read is romance. I find science fiction more believable than that melodramatic tripe. I scan the books as quickly as possible and pluck two titles off the shelves. I would take more but only have so much cargo space.

The kitchen is off the living room. I open the cupboards and the pantry and a smile crosses my face. I knew this place was going to be a goldmine! I’m flabbergasted that no one else has already knocked this place over. I find a box of macaroni, which I transfer to my Ziploc bag containing cotton balls. This will keep the pasta from making noise as I move. I also find a jar of marinara, three cans of tuna, a jar of pickled beets, and one tapioca pudding Snack Pack. Before I realize what’s happening, I remove a glove, peel off the lid of the Snack Pack, and plunge my fingers middle knuckle deep into the pudding. I move my fingers to my mouth and savor the smooth sweetness as it slides down my throat. I sink into one of the chairs near the table and guiltily finish my tapioca surprise; normally I would have shared something like this with Beau.

Once I’ve wiped out every bit of pudding I can from the small plastic container, I toss it into the sink, wipe my hands with a dirty dish towel that was left on the counter, and put my glove back on. I pack the other things I found securely into my backpack, and with my belly full of unexpected delights, I unlock the back door and slide it open.

I jump at the sound that shouts at me from the wall and all around the house. In my sugar-induced contentment, I forgot to check for an alarm. If I hadn’t found an easy way in earlier, I would have had to disable it to enter, but in my gluttonous complacency, I didn’t see the keypad to the right of the door, staring me in the face.

I step outside, fling the sliding door shut, hop over the porch railing, and hit the backyard at a run. The moment Beau sees me, he shoots ahead of me and leads the way back to the field of solar panels at the edge of the development. When we’re somewhere in the middle, well out of eyeshot for anybody who might come round, I take off my pack and collapse on the ground. I’m staring up at the stars, my heart beating faster than it has in ages.

The blare of sirens rises along Rt 4 and within seconds they pass by and turn into Pinewood Estates on Hillside Road. I know these are police cars, however, I also know they are not occupied by police officers. They are who I refer to as the Sad-Men, Self-Appointed Deputies; survivors who co-opted abandoned police vehicles and deputized themselves. They claim to uphold law and order yet only use the title to help themselves to whatever or whomever they can find and catch.

I lie there another ten minutes berating myself for my carelessness. What the Hell was I thinking? I know better. That could have been the end of the line for Beau and me. I smack myself in the head but not nearly hard enough. I do it again and again until I feel Beau curl up beside me, his warmth comforting along my flank. I take my hands away from my head, unfist them, and stroke Beau lovingly, thankful to have such a wonderful companion by my side. One of my greatest faults is my tendency to get caught up in cycles of negative self-thought and for some reason this creature knows exactly what I need when I need it.

I push myself onto one elbow and look in the direction of Pinewood Estates. I can still see the blue and red lights from the police cars flashing. It’s time for Beau and I to make our way back to the forest. I do not want to be around during daylight hours.

We slink through the remaining solar panels and slip between Joe’s Pizzeria and the Craft Sisters. I look left, then right, and see nothing on Rt 4. We shoot across the road into the parking lot, where we are most exposed. The pickup is still there but in my haste to reach cover once again, I don’t realize until it’s too late that a car is parked beyond the truck. It’s a police cruiser and leaning against it is a Sad-Man, drinking from a lidded cup. The moment he sees me he yells, “Stop where you are!” but I just keep running. I cast a glance behind me and he’s already after me. I can hear him talking into a walkie talkie, letting the others know he’s spotted me. I yell to Beau, “Meet me at Sleepy’s trail!” and he darts off in a different direction. This is the reason I named the paths. I trained Beau to know where each one begins and go directly there to wait if given the command.

With the Sad-Man behind me, I decide to take some shortcuts, so I hop the fence between the high school and the waste management facility. Unfortunately, with the haul I found at 18 Tuttle Meadow, my backpack rests lower on my back than usual and catches the top of the chain link fence. My arms slip out of the straps and I fall to the ground, using my face to break my fall. I hear my nose crunch and immediately know it’s broken. But I have no time to think about that. I jump to my feet and try to free the pack from the fence. I cannot abandon it. It not only has the things I’ve just collected, but other things I am unwilling to leave behind.

But as I reach for the pack, a hand reaches over the fence and clamps down on my right arm. When I look up I’m staring into the green glow of a Sad-Man’s eyes. There is hatred in them. I know the Sad-Men have been trying to find me for a long time now. I am one of the few they have not been able to bring under their submission. I have eluded them for months now and it burns their collective ego to have me out there, living independently, unbeholden to their will.

I try to pry his hand off my arm, but my wrist is small and his fingers easily encircle it. I throw a couple of punches that land with little effect. He’s taller than I am and both the fence and backpack are in my way. I hate using weapons, even against the Sad-Men, because I abhor violence, but I can hear the other cars coming and there will be no possibility of escape if I’m overly outnumbered. I bend over slightly, feel along my leg and pull my knife. In one fluid motion I reach across my body and drag the knife across his fingers. Immediately his grip loosens and he staggers backward a few steps, surprised by my audacity. I grab my pack, give it a couple of shakes, and the moment it comes loose I dash behind the waste management building and into the maze of solar panels.

Just as I loosed my pack from the fence and took to running, the other police cars pulled into the parking lot. I can hear the voice of the Sad-Man who’d pursued me yelling to his buddies. He’s telling them where I’ve gone and I hear their cars pull out of the parking lot onto Gleason.

That’s okay, I’m not going back the way I came. On the far side of the solar field, instead of crossing Moon Brook, I turn left and follow it. I actually walk this bit, not only to give the Sad-Men time to pass by, but because I need to do something about my nose. I stop for a quick moment to return my knife to its sheath then reach up and lay the tip of my finger on the tip of my nose. Even that softest of touches sends shocks of pain through my face and stars appear in my eyes. Yet, once I realize what the problem is, I take one of the coils of rope hanging around me, place it in my mouth, and as quickly as I can, move my nose back into place. There is so much pain I fall to my knees, gasping. I’m able to keep quiet, but tears fall from my eyes involuntarily and it takes a moment for me to regain my composure and stand.

I ease my way to Gleason Rd, making sure that no one is on foot looking for me. About 10 yards from the road I step into the creek and as slowly and quietly as I can, move toward the road. My eyes are darting in all directions, expecting a Sad-Man to jump out at me, but before I know it I’m in the culvert that allows Moon Brook to flow under the roadway. When I exit on the other side, I stay in the water for a bit and then move back onto dry ground. I follow Moon Brook a half mile to the Gables. The Gables was a retirement community before The Event. Once I make it to the Gables, I will have tree coverage all the way back to Town Line Rd. As long as I can cross Town Line without being seen, I’m confident Beau and I will make it back home safely.

Back in the bunker I turn on a lantern and check my nose in the mirror. The bleeding has finally stopped (my shirt is bloodsoaked and will need to be destroyed) but I look awful. I clean myself up the best I can and then return to the main space. I turn on the radio. The Sad-Men use the radio waves to communicate with each other, so I will be able to hear what they know. Also, they keep one news channel in operation to keep everybody in their organization abreast of any developments connected to The Event. I lie down on my bunk and Beau hops up and curls up next to me. I calmly stroke his fur while I listen to the activity back in town.

“No sign of her here, Chief. If she came this direction, she hid it well.”

“Chief, car 6. Same here. I found one footprint in some mud along Moon Brook north of Gleason Rd. Definitely small enough to be hers, but I didn’t find anything else.”

“Okay, everybody back to your posts. I’ve informed…”

I turn the radio off. Though I was ninety-five percent sure they hadn’t been able to track me, it settles my mind to know for certain. I’m annoyed with myself for leaving even a wayward footprint behind, but the one thing I know for sure is that the Sad-Men are not very smart. Even if they decided I was heading toward the Gables, that’s where their search would end.

I pick up the book laying on the floor and start to read. When I’m not scouring the town for supplies, trying to gather information about the Sad-Men or The Event on the radio, or playing with Beau in the forest, I am reading. My current material is Cody Lundin’s When All Hell Breaks Loose: Stuff You Need to Survive When Disaster Strikes. I’ve read dozens of survival manuals, but I happened to spot this one the last time I visited the old library, and almost every time I read one, I pick up a new skill or bit of knowledge.

I read for quite a while but stop when I hear Beau snoring next to me. Normally we would go outside for a bit and hunt or play, but after our close encounter, I’m a bit worn out myself. I get up and check my nose in the mirror again. I still look terrible and my nose pulses with pain, but I can tell it will heal decently. I probably would have been better off having a doctor fix it, but I don’t have that luxury anymore. I return to bed and lie down on my back facing the ceiling. Even though I don’t have the energy to take Beau on an adventure, I’m not necessarily tired. I decide to compose a song.

As I lie here darkness all around

I start to wonder why I deserve

To be left here all by myself

In a world so full of despair

Though I try it's difficult to see

The future laid out ahead of me

Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to talk to waiting at home

When I step outside the world is cold

Even July chills me to the bone

It’s not the weather

Not the wind nor the rain

It’s the sadness all around

That keeps bringing me down

Don’t get me wrong ,I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to hold me waiting at home

I know I’m fortunate

I’m not ungrateful

Yet loneliness wears on the mind

I’d give up anything

To go back to a day

Before everything turned cold and gray

Don’t get me wrong, I’m doing all right

I have what it takes to stay in the fight

But on days like this, it’d be nice to know

There’s someone to love me waiting at home

Someone to talk to

To hold

To love

Waiting for me at home

As the soft echo of my voice fades away inside the bunker, I stare into space, tears falling from the corners of my eyes.

The feel of Beau’s velvet tongue on my hand wakes me up. At first I’m disoriented. I’ve forgotten where I am. I’m not at home, nor anybody else’s house for that matter, and this isn’t a hospital. Then The Event comes rushing at me from out of the darkness and I know exactly where I am. I turn on the lantern and look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost 1:00 am the next day. I must have fallen asleep around 7:00 am the day before. I can’t believe I slept that long. I’m sure Beau has been up for a while but he let me rest until he knew it was time to go outside.

I perform the daily preparedness routine and by 1:45 we are ready to go out the door. I perform my perimeter check, Beau performs his, and we are outside. We are not going on a mission today. We are not in real need of anything and I like to allow a day or two to go by before returning to town if I feel, or in this case know, I was spotted.

The town is west, so we head east, farther into the forest. I have a couple of traps I can check on and today I bring one additional item not normally in my pack, one of Beau’s tennis balls. Beau truly is my forever companion and though he is an excellent partner in crime, there are times I just want him to be a dog. I could just use a stick but we came upon a can of tennis balls on one of our missions and I couldn’t help but swipe them for Beau.

As we wander the forest in the middle of the night, I feel at peace. I have to be on alert nearly all of the time, so when we are wandering deep in the forest at this time of day, with only small duties to perform, I can allow myself to be calm. I throw the ball for Beau and he eagerly chases it while we make our way from trap to trap. We have three traps scattered around. Luckily, I didn’t have to rig anything up. I’ve confiscated three humane traps over time - one from Home Depot and two from a hardware store.

I know what you’re thinking: those must have been difficult to carry, especially quietly, and you are not wrong. Each time I found one, I stashed it somewhere it wouldn’t be seen and returned to get it later. I still carried all of the supplies that go in my jacket or on my person, but the backpack and its contents, I left home. All I brought were three bed sheets that I carried in a stuffable nylon sack. Two of the sheets I crammed inside the trap to keep the inside bits from rattling around and the third one I wrapped around the trap, threw over my back, and knotted in front of me. Then I immediately returned to the bunker.

When Beau and I reach the first trap, it is upside down and the bait is gone. This happens from time to time. Most likely a black bear wanted what was inside and being too big to fit in, just batted it around a bit until the food either fell out or was accessible. I don’t mind but I do have to take some time to bend it back in shape (mostly by sitting and kneeling on it - I’m lucky he didn’t crush it completely) and will have to relocate the trap. Now that something too large to be caught knows it’s here, they will return. I pick the trap up and carry it with me, still playing fetch with Beau, until we locate the second trap. The second trap is empty and still has the bait. If a trap goes too long without catching anything, I will relocate that trap as well, but this one has produced results regularly, so I just switch out the bait for something fresh (marshmallows are great for catching raccoons) and head off toward the third trap.

I know we’ve caught something before we get there because Beau drops his ball and trots off ahead of me. He knows not to go so far as to leave my sight, but he’s excited because this might mean meat for dinner.

When I get close enough to see what we’ve caught, a pair of yellow eyes stare up at me. I can tell immediately it’s a raccoon. A small flare of elation fills my body. We’ll be eating well later today. I don’t remove the raccoon and dress it here. That would lead other animals to the site plus it’s easier to do where there’s a water source, so I bait and leave the trap I was going to relocate and take the trapped raccoon with me. This particular raccoon is on the young side, but he’s still heavy. Beau and I find a spot along North Cold Creek to do the dirty work.

I take off my gloves, push up my sleeves, and remove my knife from its sheath. I insert it into a hole in the cage and when the raccoon is positioned just right, plunge the knife into its head. It stops moving after only a few seconds. I remove it from the cage and plunge it into the water, using some sand and small stones to scrub the fur. Raccoon’s carry a lot of unpleasant things in their fur and I want it as clean as possible before trying to remove the skin so I don’t taint the meat. Once I’m confident he’s clean enough, I start to skin him. When I first started trapping and preparing wild game, it took me much too long and there would be very little meat when I was done. By now though, I was getting fairly good at it. Keeping your knife sharp is essential for quick skin and organ removal. Once skinned, I take off the head and rear appendages and then slit our dinner down the belly to remove the innards. I’m done in half an hour which isn’t too bad. Unfortunately, I’m not done yet. I need to soak the carcass. I don’t really have to but it helps leech some of the gamey flavor out of the meat. Beau couldn’t care less about that, but it’s difficult for me to eat if the flavor is strong. I cut a length of nylon cord and tie it around the front legs and then tie it to a large rock in an area of the stream that is deep and fast enough the raccoon won’t repeatedly bounce off the bottom on the riverbed. We’ll come back in a few hours to retrieve him.

Before we head back, I quickly strip down and bath myself in the creek. Not only to get the blood off of me but the everyday build up of grime and body odor. Whenever I’m near running water I try to clean myself. I’ve never been fond of being dirty. I don’t mind getting dirty, I just don’t want to stay that way. Therefore, any opportunity I get to bathe, I do so.

After dressing, I reset the third trap in a new location, and Beau and I walk back to the bunker. As we stroll leisurely through the wood, I hear a sound off in the distance to the west. It’s faint at first but grows steadily louder with each second. It’s a helicopter and it’s coming this way. I give a quick whistle, and Beau comes directly to me. I’m not extremely worried about being spotted. The forest is dense, it’s dark out and, as always, I’m dressed in black. Nonetheless, as little movement as possible is always a good thing. I lie down, back to the ground, and take out my binoculars. Beau also gets low and we wait. A few moments later the helicopter flies right over us at speed. I let a minute or so pass before getting up. This flyover doesn’t appear to be related to Beau and I but we make haste to home base.

Safely inside our shelter, well hidden from the watchful eyes of the Sad-Men, I prepare a marinade for our raccoon. It will still be many hours before we can cook and eat our catch but my mouth is watering in anticipation. While I busy myself with the cooking preparations, I have the radio on in the background. For the most part things seem to be quiet today. There is some idle chit chat being shared by the Sad-Men but ultimately they’ve mentioned nothing of import.

Once the marinade is done, Beau and I sit on the bed together and I read while he rests. The radio is still on, but I have no problem reading with background noise. In fact, I’m feeling quite content. Beau and I enjoyed our hike today, we will be dining on some tasty vittles a few hours from now, and I’m now filling my mind with information, my trusted companion by my side. For a few moments I’ve forgotten how bad things are in the real world until the Chief’s voice suddenly flies out of the radio speakers into my ears and I hear, “We’ve pinged a radio frequency in Plotterskill Forest.”

It has started raining since Beau and I were out earlier in the morning. I’m wearing the wrong footwear, but I don’t have the time to go back inside and change into boots. I need to shut the antenna down before they are able to triangulate the signal and pinpoint exactly where it’s coming from. Though it is about a quarter mile away, and the bunker would still be difficult to find hidden underground, I do not want to allow the Sad-Men to have any advantage in finding me.

I weave in and out of the trees like a running back dodging defenders in his pursuit of the endzone. Unlike a running back however, my feet are skidding and slipping each time I hit a muddy patch, and I fall down a couple of times. I scurry back to my feet each time and ten minutes later I’m at the base of a tall white pine. You wouldn’t know unless you were looking for them specifically, but there are small footholds hammered into the trunk. I scale the tree as quickly as I can without being careless about it. Eventually the footholds are no longer there but the branches are close enough I can climb the rest of the way. The antenna is at least one hundred feet from the ground, well-hidden among the upper boughs.

Having scaled to the appropriate height, I throw my leg over a branch and straddle it. Before me is a small control box about the size of a music box. It has a five digit combination lock on it, mostly to keep marauding forest critters from getting in, yet you can never be too careful. I turn each gear to the proper number (12723 - the date the event occurred), remove the lock, and open the box. All I do is flip a switch but once it’s done I feel immediate relief. The antenna will not send a signal again until I climb back up and turn it on.

I close the box, lock everything back up, and start back down the tree. Even with that task complete, my mind still races with what I need to do next. I have no idea whether or not the Sad-Men had already narrowed down their search before the antenna was powered down, so I have to make decisions as if they did. Beau and I are going to need to keep a low profile for a bit, even limiting our time just hanging out in the nearby trees. I may even have to find a place in town where I can make it appear a camp was set up and lure the Sad-Men there to throw them off my trail.

With all of these thoughts taking up space in my head, my attention lapses and my right foot slips off the branch I’ve just put all of my weight on. I fall a few feet, my left leg catches another branch, turning my body horizontal, and I land belly-first on a third branch. Unfortunately, I’m disoriented, and don’t have the wherewithal to grab hold until I’ve almost slipped all the way off this particular arm of the tree. When all is said and done, I am hanging suspended tens of feet above the ground with my two arms stretched above me, one hand on either side of the branch. If Beau can see me I must look like one of those plush toy monkeys with velcro hands that you sometimes see hanging from people’s rearview mirrors.

My situation isn’t terrible, but I’m facing away from the trunk which makes things more difficult. The branch is too wide and slippery to attempt repositioning myself; my only hope is I can shimmy my way back to the tree and use my legs to help turn around. I slowly move the hand closest to the trunk backward a few inches and then do the same with the other hand. I’m making good progress when the bark under my left hand gives way and I’m falling again. I make contact with only two more branches during the fall. My backpack takes the brunt of the impact from the first, so really isn’t an issue. The second, on the other hand, must have had a broken piece of branch sticking out and it rips through my pants into my right leg. I can feel the searing pain in my leg as I fall the rest of the distance to the ground.

The air is forced from my lungs as the left side of my body meets the rain-soaked earth. As I gasp helplessly for air, my body aches and I can feel the blood leaking from the gash in my thigh. I feel Beau nudging me with his nose and even in my pain I’m thankful I didn’t land on him. Finally, I catch my breath, air rushes into my lungs, and I can breathe freely once again. I sit up and check the rest of my body. Lots of aches and sites where there will be bruising, but surprisingly, I don’t think I’ve broken anything.

I retrieve my flashlight, turn it on, and place the end in my mouth. I put my fingers into the rip in my pants and tear the leg wide open. Blood is oozing from a three-inch laceration in the outer part of my right thigh. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be but it will need some serious attention if I want to prevent infection. I shrug the backpack off of my shoulders and pull it beside me. I open it and retrieve the first aid kit and a bottle of water. Opening the first aid kit, I remove the scissors. I cut the leg off of my pants, tear it into four wide strips, and lay them across my left leg. I open the bottle of water and use half of it to rinse the wound. I take one strip and then a second, soak them with the remaining water, wring them out, and pack them on top of the cut. The other two strips I wrap around my leg, with some overlap, and then tie off behind my thigh. Finally I take the roll of medical tape from the first aid kit and secure my makeshift bandage into place.

Throwing the first aid kit and empty water bottle into my backpack, I use Beau to help me stand and we slowly make our way home. Once inside, I strip off my wet clothes, dry off both Beau and myself, and wrap a towel around me. I grab the bloodstained shirt I was wearing when I broke my nose the other day, as well as the iodine I confiscated on our last mission, and drop it onto the bed. I retrieve the sewing kit from the drawer in the bedside table and then gingerly lower myself onto my mattress. I unwrap my leg so I can finally assess the damage with proper lighting. It’s neither good nor bad news. It’s long and jagged, but not as deep as I’d feared, and the bleeding has nearly stopped. Luckily, it appears that I didn’t sever any major blood vessels. I use the already bloodied shirt to apply the pressure needed to further slow the bleeding. After a few minutes of sustained heavy pressure, I feel it's okay to try and mend my leg. I disinfect the area and a thick sewing needle with iodine then sew up my thigh. Though I didn’t cry when I fell out of the tree, I do now. I pride myself on being tough, but sticking a needle into your own skin to sew your flesh together is no easy task and hurts like the dickens. So, as the tears fall, I watch myself make artful stitches in my own leg. When I’m done, I’m impressed with how good it looks. I sweep all my supplies onto the floor and ask Beau to hop up on the bed with me. I turn off the light, pull Beau in close, then lie down and cry myself to sleep.