Concerning "The Event: A Story - Part II"

My nose is crooked and still aches sometimes. My leg, on the other hand, doesn’t look too bad. I removed the sutures a few days ago and, much to my surprise, I’m not horrified by it. It’s going to leave a nasty scar, one that is bright red and jagged, but I avoided an infection and that’s the most important thing. I turn off the light and get dressed. Beau and I have only been on two missions in the last two weeks, visiting Maple Grove Farms on the far north outskirts of town both times to harvest some of the fruits and vegetables which still grow abundantly there. Today though, we’re going south.

All geared up and ready to go, we follow Grumpy who will take us all the way to the Medical Center. If we have time on the return trip, I may stop off and grab some supplies there, but I have something more urgent I need to take care of. In the two weeks we’ve kept to ourselves, I have lost all awareness of what the Sad-Men are up to. I’m not willing to turn the antenna back on for a month yet, so I have no way of knowing what is going on outside of Beau’s and my little bubble. However, there is a remedy, even if it might be a bit dangerous to pull off. If I can get my hand on one of the units the Sad-Men use to communicate, I can listen in without need of my own equipment.

The distance to the south end of town is about twice as far from our hideout as the north end of town. It takes us almost an hour to trek out of the forest. We don’t exit at the Medical Center. Instead, we go a few hundred yards beyond to Upper Kincaid Pond. We will be using the waterways and the railroad tracks to get as close as we can to the police station before having to traverse open ground. Kincaid Creek flows out of the southwestern end of Upper Kincaid Pond. Beau and I follow it as it winds its way behind Messner’s Mobile Home Park, then Hank’s Autobody, and empties into Lower Kincaid Pond located in the Town Park. From the pond, we cut across the playground, around the tennis courts, slip through a hedgerow, and find ourselves on the railroad tracks.

The tracks run diagonally through town. We will follow them until we are behind the strip mall located across the street from the police station. However, to get there, we have to cross two streets: Bushnell Ave and Main St. Bushnell will not be an issue. There is only one building at that intersection, a long-vacant farm supply store. At Main Street, we will have to be careful. The tracks run at a forty-five degree angle through the intersection of Main and Elm St. What that means for Beau and I is a 200 yd stretch of open space we have to traverse without being seen. On top of that, the intersection is well-lit with traffic lights and street lamps.

As I expected, there are no obstacles at Bushnell Ave.  We continue on until we arrive at the rear entrance of Kerri’s Irish Pub. (motto: Mess with Kerri, you she’ll bury) Beau and I come to a halt. Once we step out from behind this building, we will be in full view of anyone who might be nearby. I take out my binoculars and look around. At first I can neither see nor hear anything. As I’m about to put my binoculars away, I notice movement in front of the Town Highway Department building kitty corner to Kerri’s. I shrink back into the darkness a bit. There’s no way I was spotted and I want to make sure there’s no possibility I will be. When I look again, there’s just the sign out front, framed with a couple of flowering shrubs, and the flagpole. Nothing moves. Even so, I keep my eyes trained on that spot because I’m certain it wasn’t my imagination playing tricks on me. I refuse to be lured into a compromising situation. Suddenly, something comes around the far shrub at a run, heading straight for us. I nearly let out an involuntary shriek but swallow it before it forces its way out between my lips. I almost turn to run when I realize what it is. It’s a dog - a big one, yet a dog just the same. Beau must get a whiff of it because he rises from his sitting position. I place a hand on him even though he’s trained well enough not to chase after it.

The dog stops in the middle of Main Street. He looks around and gives the air a sniff. I’m worried that he will pick up Beau’s scent and investigate but he turns right and trots down Elm St. I watch him until he disappears down one of the streets off of Elm. Nothing like a little scare to keep one on their toes. I search the area again for anything that might hold us up and once I’m satisfied that all is clear, we make the dash from Kerri’s to safety on the far side.

From here, it’s about a mile to the strip mall. The strip mall houses, from south to north, a Stop & Shop, a Label Shopper, a three screen movie theater, a Dollar Tree, a GameStop, and a Target. Next to the Stop & Shop, but not connected to it is a Tire Warehouse. Beau and I slip through the alley between these two. After a thorough check of the parking lot, we cling to the thin shadow cast by the Tire Warehouse and are now facing Strong St. We are very close now. To our left, Walsh St forks off of Strong and the police station is the second building on the right. For obvious reasons, walking down Walsh and into the front door is probably not the smartest thing to do, so I do a quick survey and devise a different course to take.

Confident the coast is clear, Beau and I zip across Strong St, into the driveway between Wok Lobster (chinese take-out) on the left and Caroline’s Nail Boutique to the right. At the shared employee parking lot, we hang a left. A simple eight foot tall wooden fence separates Wok Lobster and the police station. I have every mind to break into the brick building on the other side.

Originally, I thought about pinching my radio from one of the squad cars, but the chances of finding a car, especially one that is unoccupied, is slim. In addition, if a radio goes missing from one of the cars, the Sad-Men would immediately suspect theft. If I can somehow score one from the police station itself, without being seen, I believe it’s more likely the Sad-Men will think it’s somehow been misplaced.

The wooden fence surrounds the station on three sides. Beau and I follow it until we are standing in the backyard of the house on Prospect St whose property borders the police station. I watch the house for a few short moments to make sure I don’t need to be concerned about anybody surprising me from behind, but there are no lights to be seen and no movement to be detected. Considering its proximity to the Sad-Men’s base of operations, I would have been surprised if someone had chosen this place as a stronghold, unless it was a Sad-Man himself.

I check along the fence and find a loose board. I’m unsure whether a nail is broken or is missing altogether but the bottom of the board has a small range of motion. I pull the bottom of the board toward me and find I can swing it far enough to the side that I can squeeze through sans backpack. Yet, before doing so, I perform some reconnaissance. The building has parking on all three sides. I see both civilian and official vehicles, but in the very back, where I’m going to enter, it’s mostly civilian vehicles. They don’t appear to be in use much anymore. Almost any time I see Sad-Men, they are in a police cruiser.

There is one door and ten windows in the rear of the building. Six of the windows are upstairs and the only one lit up is to my far left. The four ground floor windows each have light coming from them but one is dimmer than the others. It’s most likely a hallway light creating the faint glow. There are two pipes visible on the wall. One starts at the ground, rises vertically for twelve feet or so and then disappears into the building. The other comes out of the building at a height of about eight feet and goes up and onto the roof. My assumption is it’s attached to the large HVAC system located there. The two pipes are approximately seven feet apart but an upper window is situated between them. I should be able to climb up the first, reach the sill of the window, and access the other pipe from there.

I ask Beau to stay where he is. He lies down, head on his paws, and just as I’m about to slip through the fence, a Sad-Man exits the building. Halfway through the opening, I freeze. I’m not directly under any type of light source and the fence is a dark brown, so as long as I stay still he shouldn’t see me. The Sad-Man turns left out of the door and lumbers toward a patrol car parked on the side of the building. As I watch him, I can feel tension growing in the muscles in my body. It is the Sad-Man who failed to apprehend me two weeks prior.

I am neither scared nor angry, and yet, there is some emotion causing my unease. The fact is, though I cut him to save myself, I felt guilty about it afterward. I know he meant me harm, and he probably deserves punishment for the way he’s treated other people since The Event, yet violence is not in my nature and participating in it causes me distress. Even when I kill prey for Beau and I to eat, I do it as quickly and as humanely as possible.

The Sad-Man gets into the car and drives away. It takes a few seconds of deep breathing to release the tension in my body and clear my mind. Beau must have sensed the change in me, because he has his head resting on the knee that remained on his side of the fence. I pat his head, scratch behind each ear and then slip the rest of the way through the opening. I reach back, grab my pack, put the board back in place, and dart across the parking lot.

I grab hold of the lower pipe and scale the wall. My sneakers have excellent purchase on the brick and I reach the top of the pipe in seconds. This next move will be the trickiest. I search for at least one secure handhold in the bricks above me, preferably for my right hand. There are none, but I can get my left hand into a small crevice. I take the chance it will be enough and pull myself up. I’m just high enough to raise my right foot and place it on the elbow of the pipe where it disappears into the wall.

As I’m perched precariously on the couple inches of tubular metal below me, I hug the wall. Every move I make from here has to be performed perfectly or I will fall. The fall wouldn’t be enough to kill me, but if I was unable to get up and make my escape...I put that thought from my mind. The recess for the window is to my left, so I have to let go of the handhold I’m currently grasping and reach across the eighteen inches of space to grab on. I let go and slide my left hand along the wall as quickly and carefully as possible. With my cheek flat against the brick, I am unable to see, so I feel around blindly until my fingers curl over the window’s edge. Luckily, I am able to get a firm grip. I move my left foot out and place it solidly against the wall. Now, my right hand moves to where my left was a moment before, and I push off the pipe with my right foot. I sidle along the wall, dropping my left hand down to grab the bottom edge of the sill. This action allows me to finally move my right hand over as well. Now that I once again have four secure points of contact with the building, I feel almost safe again. Hanging down from the window, hands above me and feet flat against the wall, I wonder to myself, “If I was wearing red and blue rather than all black, would I look like Spider-Man to someone below?”

I pull myself up to the window and stand flat against it. It would have been quite unfortunate had someone been in the dark room beyond, but it is empty. The second pipe is only a few inches to my left. I easily transfer from the window to the pipe and scale the rest of the way up the building. It doesn’t take me long to find the roof entrance on the far right. As I suspected, it is locked. I reach inside my jacket, taking the lock pick out of the inner left pocket and my flashlight from the outer right pocket. I should have been practicing my lock picking skills while on mission hiatus, but I was lazy and it takes me longer than I expect. After ten minutes, I finally hear the pins fall into place and the lock click open. As I open the door, it creaks. This is why I should carry WD-40 with me. I’m disappointed with myself. I like to be prepared.

I take my time opening the door, so as to not alert anyone in earshot that something sketchy might be happening on the roof, and I slip inside. I leave the door ajar and silently creep down the fifteen steps to the door at the bottom of the stairwell. This opens onto the second floor hallway. It, too, is locked. I cannot use my flashlight here but once I have the right set of picks and insert them into the lock, I finish in less time than I did on the roof.

With nothing to be done about it, the door unlocks with a much too loud click. I freeze for a moment, my eye on the small window in the door, waiting for someone to come running. Nothing of the sort occurs and I open the door far enough to peek through. The hallway is empty.

I step out into full view. There’s no going back now.

I find myself at the end of a long hallway. It appears as if there are ten rooms in all on the second floor. Four facing the front, six toward the back. Lights are still shining from one of the rooms to my left (at the far end of the hall) and one to my right.

With absolute silence, I move from room to room. On the left are a conference room and a restroom. On my right is another conference room. I only give a quick precursory inspection before moving to the next. The fourth room is the one front-facing room with lights on. While I’m standing in the dark of the room closest, trying to figure out what my next course of action will be, I hear someone open and close a desk drawer. Okay, I now know there is someone I either need to avoid or will have to deal with.

I let the backpack fall off one of my shoulders and as quietly as possible unzip the front pocket. I remove the mirror and zip the pocket back up. I sit on the ground, back against the door (which is open against the wall separating me from the occupied room) and reach around the door frame with the mirror. I keep my hand as close to the floor as possible to limit the possibility of being seen. It takes me a full minute or so to scan the entire room. Once done, I slip the mirror in with the flashlight. I was able to confirm two things in my surveillance. One: there is a radio in that room. Two: there is also a woman.

For a moment my mind starts swirling. Why is there a woman here? I was convinced all of the Sad-Men were actually men. I didn’t know they allowed women in their ranks. I’ve never seen a woman with them before and frankly, I’m confused as to why a woman would want to have anything to do with them. I try to pull my mind back to the situation at hand but it’s difficult. This happens sometimes when I take in information contrary to my expectations. If Beau was here he would sense my discomfort and press his warm body against mine. This helps to ground me in the present moment. Instead, I do some deep breathing exercises while repeating to myself, “You are in control of your thoughts and actions. You are in control of your thoughts and actions.” A minute later I am feeling calmed and put this information aside to deal with at a later time.

With my head less foggy, I come up with a plan. It’s not a great plan, but I now realize that even at this time of night I know there are probably more people here than I can avoid or deal with on my own. So much for them thinking their radio was misplaced. I stand up and use the mirror to spy again. When the Sad-Woman turns around to grab something behind her, I silently sneak past her office and go into the next unlit room. This room is almost directly across from the stairwell to the ground floor. To get to the ground floor, you walk down eight steps, make a u-turn, then go down another eight.

I look around the room and grab two of the chairs sitting around a circular table. Making sure I don’t make any noise, I carry them to the doorway, check no one is in the upper hallway, and hurl them over the railing into the lower part of the stairwell. As they bounce and careen off the walls and steps, the sounds echoing throughout the building, I retreat into the shadows of the room I’m in. As I had hoped, the Sad-Woman comes running out of her office. Unfortunately, she doesn’t go down the stairs. She’s looking over the railing, trying to determine the cause of the commotion. If she turns around, there’s a good chance she’ll see me. Luckily, once she hears voices below, she goes downstairs to investigate further. The moment her head disappears from sight, I scurry to her office, shrugging my pack off in the process, unplug the charging dock, stuff it and the radio into my bag, and make a beeline for the roof. As I close the stairwell door, I’m feeling hopeful that I wasn’t seen. I take the steps two at a time and slip through the opening I left earlier. I push the roof door closed only enough for it to appear latched.

I look around. I do not have time to scale down the side of the building before the Sad-People perform a search. I need to hide up here for a while. The only place to go is on top of the HVAC unit. The unit has an H shape to it. There are two larger sections connected by a middle section. The section spanning the gap is too high for me to reach by jumping alone but the structure has enough going on that I can parkour up to that point. I slip my arms into the backpack and give myself a running start. I run directly at one of the large sections at full speed and then leap. Stepping on a protrusion of some kind with my left foot, I use it to pull myself up and then push off in the direction of the middle section. This gives me enough height to grab the top edge of the spanning framework and hoist myself up. Standing here (the middle of the H), I’m still easily visible. I need to get on top of one of the large sections (the legs of the H). Executing the same maneuver I performed moments before, using what I assume is a chimney or exhaust vent as my springboard, I vault myself up to the apex of the structure. I grasp the upper edge of the tall unit and pull myself up, making sure to stay flat against the metal.

I worm my way to the center and roll over on my back. I look all around me and cannot see the roof below. Excellent. My hope is, if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

I hear voices in the street below. They must be searching the perimeter; as they talk, their voices seem to be in motion.

“It had to have been her,” a masculine voice states. “The girl is a menace.”

“Look, calm down.” This voice is feminine, most likely belonging to the Sad-Woman I saw in the office. “It’s no big deal. We’ll find her, and when we do, she’ll be taken care of.”

I don’t hear anger in her voice like I do the Sad-Man’s. She seems almost compassionate. Her nonchalance in regards to my whereabouts, especially compared to the other Sad-People I’ve met, frightens me.

“I don’t see any sign of her,” says the woman. “Let’s head back inside and file a report. As long as she sticks around town, we’ll find her eventually.”

“You file the report, I’m going upstairs to take a look around.”

“If you insist. I doubt you’ll find anything…” Her voice trails off as they reenter the building. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I immediately begin my deep breathing exercises. “You are in control of your thoughts and actions,” I repeat. The existence of this woman who seems to be in complete control of her faculties and displays no doubt about my capture is causing me great distress. It creates yet another wrinkle in this game of survival I find myself in and it wears on me mentally.

Suddenly, the creak of the roof door draws me back to reality.

“Where are you hiding?” the Sad-Man asks loudly. “I know it was you. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and turn yourself in? It’ll be better for all of us in the long run. By turning yourself in, you won’t get hurt, and we won’t have to waste time trying to find you when we have far more important things to be doing.”

I barely breathe. If these clowns think they’re going to bring me down, take me into their fold, and do with me what they will, they are mistaken. The Sad-Man wanders around for another five minutes, checking all the places he can reach or see, but eventually he goes inside. When he pulls the door shut, it bangs into place and I hear the lock being engaged.

I want to jump down and get out of here. I miss having Beau by my side and it’s already going on four in the morning. I have maybe an hour of darkness left before the sun starts to rise, yet I wait thirty minutes. I’m sure the Sad-Man watched for me through the little window in the door after he closed it. Luckily, I’m far more patient than he is. I crawl over to the edge of the HVAC unit, let myself down one level and then another, making sure to make as little noise as possible. I sneak over to the door and look in. No one is there. I walk around the full perimeter of the roof, making sure there’s no one outside and then hurry over to the spot at the rear of the building where I climbed up. I shimmy down the first pipe, and though it’s still eight feet or so to the ground, I drop down from there. I stick the landing and take off for the fence. The moment I’m through and have moved the board back into place, Beau greets me with a lick on the face. Happy to have my only friend back by my side, I hug him there in that backyard for many more minutes than I’m proud to admit.

Beau and I are extra cautious making our way back from whence we came. I know we are running short on our cover of darkness, but as long as we can make it back to Lower Kincaid Pond, we will have the various flora to cover ourselves the rest of the way back to the woods. At the intersection of Main and Elm, we do have to wait for one car to pass through the intersection. It is so rare to see automobiles other than those driven by the Sad-People, but this car is just a regular Toyota sedan occupied by a single individual. If it was two years ago I would think this person was just on their way to work. But nobody works for a living anymore, they just try to stay alive. Most likely they’re just looking for somewhere better than where they were before. I doubt they will have any luck.

Back at Upper Kincaid Pond, Beau and I pass the Medical Center and make a beeline for the trees. Once we’re in the forest, I take us a different way than we came in. We turn north. Eventually we will follow Claire home, but I want to make one quick stop first. Ten minutes later, a residential neighborhood is visible through the trees. I lead us to the very edge of the forest and sit down with my back against the base of a paper birch just inside the tree line. From this position I have a view of one house. It’s at the end of Rosewood Dr, a cul-de-sac with a dozen houses around it. I can’t see the house perfectly but the sun is just cresting the horizon, so there is a beatific glow which lends it a warm and inviting aura. This particular house is different from the other eleven houses. At one time it was the only home on Rosewood Dr, but after being sold a few times it was put up for auction, and a housing developer bought it and the land it sat on. The house was left alone but eleven cookie cutter residences were added, spaced evenly on either side of the lane.

That being said, it is not an old house. It’s an updated split-level that was probably built sometime in the 1970’s. There’s a two car garage off to one side and an in-ground pool in the backyard. There are a couple of maple trees and various bushes scattered about and overgrown flower beds are situated on either side of the back deck.

This is not the first time I have been here and it probably won’t be the last. It is not the nicest, prettiest, fanciest, or most interesting house in town, yet I like it very much. It reminds me of what life might have been had The Event never occurred. I can picture myself living there with Beau and some person I love so much it hurts just to leave for work. I can envision two children chasing each other around the pool and having to scold them for their childish recklessness. I can imagine Beau chasing a tennis ball I’ve thrown into the back field and neither of us having to worry about being seen or making noise. I can see myself sitting on the deck in the twilight, holding hands with my person, the two of us sipping wine with the knowledge our kids are sleeping contentedly in their beds.

I only allow myself fifteen minutes to ponder what might have been and then Beau and I return to the forest. We find Claire and slowly make our way home.

I wait until evening to test out the radio. Normally I would be in bed but I was anxious to give it a try. I turned it on in the bunker, but with the combination of an underground location and the twenty inch thick concrete walls, I couldn’t pick up a signal. With the radio in my pack, Beau and I walk along Olympia trail. We’re headed for the ridge above Maple Grove Farms. It is the highest place on the west side of the forest and should give us a good chance at picking up a signal. Upon arrival, I look out across the fifty yards of field that lead to the edge of the ridge. I go to a little knoll on the far side and take a seat. Beau finds a soft spot nearby and lies down.

Before turning the radio on, I make sure the volume is all the way down. I don’t need to worry about it giving off any light because I covered all the offending areas with black electrician’s tape. Finally, I switch it on and slowly raise the volume. At first, there is only static. I run through the bands and do not get a hit. No problem. Every five minutes or so I run through them again. After an hour of searching, I finally hear something. It’s of no importance to me, but I now know what channel they are broadcasting on. I place the radio on the ground beside me and lay back. I call Beau, who was bored and has been wandering around smelling every object in a twenty-five foot radius, and he comes padding over. He sits beside me and I pet him while listening to the radio for something noteworthy to cross the airwaves.

I’ve nearly fallen asleep when I hear, “Officer Anders, what’s your status?”

“Closing in, sir. I should be eyes on in a matter of minutes.”

I sit bolt upright. I look around me. There’s no way they know I’m here, unless they can trace the radio in some way. But even so, how could they be closing in on me? Or do they think I’m back at the bunker and they’ve discovered its location?

I pick up the radio and my pack and take off across the field at a run. The radio chirps, “Okay, let me know when you arrive. I already have backup on its way.” I turn it off, sling it into my pack, and kick it into a higher gear. I’ve no idea if I should be hiding or attempting to beat the Sad-Man to the bunker and lock it down. My mind is racing and I’m having difficulty reigning it in. Once again, this piece of unexpected information has thrown me for a loop, so much so that I don’t see the man with the gun. I just hear a gunshot followed immediately by Beau’s yelp. I hear his body collapse into the ground and I scream. I have never issued a sound so piercing. It slices through the night, bouncing off the trees. I skid to a halt and turn around. I’m still screaming when my eyes see a figure running toward the trees. I pull my Sig P365 from its holster and unload the ten round clip in his direction. I don’t know if I hit him but he falls to the ground, so I assume I have. I don’t really care. Beau is my only concern.

I go to him. I kneel and place a hand along his flank. Miraculously, he’s still breathing, but I can tell it’s labored. I pick him up and take off toward home. I have no idea how far I’ve gone when I have to set him down. He’s too heavy for me to carry that far. I take out my flashlight and search his body for the wound. I find it right in the center of his midsection. I stick my finger in to see if I can feel the bullet but all I can feel is the inside of Beau. I reach under him and find another hole on the other side. The bullet passed through cleanly. I feel like this is good news but there is so much blood that I know it isn’t. I pull my coat off, remove my shirt, use my teeth to tear it and rip it in two. I place a piece on either side of him and do my best to stop the bleeding. I cannot.

I pull him onto my lap and cradle him. I talk to him. “Beau, stay with me boy. I don’t know how, but just hang in there and I’ll fix you up. Look at me, Beau. Look at me.”

And he does. He doesn’t move his head but his eyes turn toward me. I stroke his head. I hug him. I do everything I can to stave off the inevitable. But I can feel his heartbeat slow. His body is growing ever more slack. I take his head in my hands and I kiss his face. And somehow, though I don’t know where he finds the strength, he licks my cheek. Just once, and ever so momentarily, but he does, and when I pick my head up and look at him, his eyes are closed. I pull him to my chest and I heave with loud, guttural sobs. My eyes pour out a deluge of tears and I cry out with all my might. At first it is a shriek of despair and anguish but it morphs into a scream of pure rage.

When I’m spent and can yell no more, I gingerly set Beau down on the forest floor and rise to my feet. I cannot believe it, but the gun is back in its holster. It must have been an involuntary reflex. I remove the gun, eject the empty magazine, and replace it with the spare I carry. I return to the field and head in the direction I saw the Sad-Man. All of the abhorrence I held for violence disappeared the moment Beau left me. I now have a bloodlust no one person could possibly fathom.

Back in the field, the Sad-Man is gone. I discover the spot he fell when I wounded him but he is no longer there. I find some traces of blood and track him for an hour, but eventually, I lose the trail. I wouldn’t have found him anyway. I was almost out of the woods near Industrial Park Rd. By now he is in his car and long gone. It doesn’t matter. Someday I will find him and exact my revenge.

I trek back to the spot where I left Beau. It takes a long time to return to the bunker. I can only carry him so far before I have to stop and rest my arms. I leave him outside and retrieve my camp shovel. I hook it onto my backpack and it takes another half an hour until I am at the spot where I want to bury him. It is beside a large rock that we often stopped at during our adventures. I would sit on the rock, or lean my back against it, and we would share a snack. It was always something different, depending on what we’d scavenged that week, but it was always joyful.

I dig a hole, wide and deep. By the time I’m finished I am drenched in sweat. I climb out of it, pick up Beau, and then slide back in. I set him in his final resting place and sing. I sing about my love for him. I sing about the good times. I sing about how very much I will miss him. Then I lie down next to him and fall asleep.

When I awake, Beau is rigid with rigor mortis and I am shivering. I caress his fur one last time then cover him up. I do not place a marker. I will always know where he lies; it’s nobody else’s business. I pick up my things and return home.

It has been eight days since the Sad-Man shot Beau. I thought the desire to bring vengeance upon him would be enough to keep me going, yet, it is not. I am utterly alone and killing the one who’s responsible will not change that fact.

I have barely been able to move. If I am awake, I either read or stare into the nothingness inside my head. Sometimes I just sit on the bed, rocking back and forth, my arms wrapped around me. I have barely eaten and the only reason I’m still alive is that I continue to drink water. Right now, however, I am getting dressed. Not gearing up, just putting on some clothes. I leave my jacket on the hook as I head up the steps to the door. I push the door open without checking things first and as I’m leaving I let the door fall into place with a thunderous clang. Though I am not following my usual routine, it is still 2 am. The lure of the quietude found in the trees at night is still something I cannot resist. I head southeast toward Vita Falls.

It has been a long time since I have seen the falls. It is not a spot Beau and I frequented. As I approach, I can hear them through the trees. This time of year it is not the cacophonous roar that somehow soothes rather than scares, but it is a pleasant sound nonetheless. I listen to the splash of what little is falling and smile. This is what all of life should feel like.

I turn left and head up the hill. I want to look down over the edge at the pool below. Cresting the ridge, I cut through the last few trees and soak up the view before me. Buck River comes down off the mountain to my left and falls over the edge to my right. I have seen it flow with greater volume and velocity, but I enjoy the calmness this version of Buck River provides.

Overall the drop is approximately ninety feet, though the initial drop is less than fifty. After that the water cascades down a series of rock steps until it meets up with itself and wanders on south. I walk along the edge of the river to where it spills into the space below. Even at this relative trickle, it is beautiful. I perch on the western edge and look southward. The river and the forest fall away and all I can see are stars. Billions of points of light shining on me as if I was the only individual in the universe worthy of illumination.

I draw the crisp, night air deeply into my lungs and exhale slowly. When I open my mouth, words free themselves from my throat and fly gaily over the valley. I spread my arms wide as I prepare to embrace the unknown.

Here under the midnight sky

I dream in black and white

And though I want to rage against

The dying of the light*

The colors have forsaken me

Each has taken flight

Left me all alone to fight

In the darkness of the night

I will fight no more, No more! I cry

I am a lost and lonely soul

Now I seek the only one

With the power to console

Into the ether I send my plea

For the one they call The Reaper

Dear friend hold out your loving arms

Take me to my Keeper

Wrap me in your blackened shroud

Let me feel the warmth of death

This is all I ask of you^

Most compassionate Grim Reaper

All I loved were stolen

Taken from me without a care

Thrusting me into a colorless world

Of monochromatic despair

I will not stand idly by

Be stripped til I am bare

I will tip the scales of fate

Be judge of what is fair

I fight no more, No more! I cry

This gray world I leave behind

I seek the grace of one who is

Forgiving and ever kind

Into the ether I send my plea

For the one they call The Reaper

Dear friend hold out your loving arms

Take me to my Keeper

Wrap me in your blackened shroud

Let me feel the warmth of death

This is all I ask of you^

Most compassionate Grim Reaper

I take one final draught of the air I once found sweet and ready myself. I lean forward. Just as I am about to push off, a gust of wind holds me back slightly and it is then that a voice rises to me from down below.

“Is somebody up there? Hello? If someone is up there, can you help me? Please?”

*Homage to Dylan Thomas’s  Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

^Homage to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera