Someone's Son Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

His throbbing leg was the first indication he was still alive. It had been a terrible night trying to sleep as noisy night sounds in the forest covered him like a blanket.

At first it was interesting. But without a comfortable bed, except a stack of spruce boughs to lie on, the night was full of tossing and turning. Now he had a doozer of a headache. He hesitated to look down.

A fierce looking scrape with a dark shade of red painted his white skin. He touched it gingerly remembering his last fall. It seemed such a long time ago. The exhausted boy stood up then climbed another ridge. Loose rock and earth tumbled under his feet as he moved up and up. Surely he would be able to see something from there.

          Sheldon had to pause often, his mosquito-bitten body crying out in pain and frustration. Where was he? After all those Scout hikes and compass games, how could he have left the riverbed? It was the one area he knew.

          He should have stayed put.

          All he had to do was follow it downstream...but no, he was so independent. He was so stupid. He kicked at the earth in frustration the jarring causing his leg to pain even more. He stumbled across one hill, then another. After awhile they all began to blend into one.

          Sheldon slapped at the mosquitoes. They were beginning to drive him crazy. He dug in the earth for some moisture. The ground was so dry. His tongue was parched and mud caked on his face was falling away. He looked ugly with clumps of mud around his head and face. At least it helped fight off the flying pests. Didn’t they ever sleep?

          They eagerly danced around his dirt-grained body. His upper torso provided a smorgasbord of opportunity. Since all that was left of his T-shirt was a ring of cloth with tatters dangling. He smelled his own sweat, so much of it due to fear. He sat back on his butt and rubbed his legs. His jeans could also pass for one large rag, ripped in numerous places from headlong flights through bushes.

          If only he had some water. Or a dip in that lake he could see in the distance. It didn't seem to get closer very quickly. He had to get to that water. It was the main objective in his life right now. He needed moisture.

          All he needed was a little rest, and think about that cool water lapping at his legs, then his waist. Ah, the memory of a canoe trip with a lake full of water cheered him up.

          Larry said how important it was to feel what it was like to fall out of a canoe fully clothed. In water depth of about five feet, both he and Sheldon rocked the canoe on a hot sunny day, until they tipped.

          At first the water was a shock and the sensation of clothes getting saturated all at once was unnerving. But as Larry had explained, "Go over on the same side and duck down so the canoe doesn't bang your head. Then come up under and check out the pocket of air waiting for you."
          It was true. There was so much to learn. And he did. Thoughts about that trip bathed his worn down body. What was he doing here? Out of food, water and providing a snack for the insects. He was hot and confused, his blond hair matted and pointing in all directions. His clothes were ripped to pieces, bloody smears providing color among the burrs hanging onto his rags.

          Mud was plastered over his exposed areas and fingernails broken from digging in the mud so often.

          The lake drew closer as he picked up one foot, then another.  "Forward, left...right...left!" He called out. He pretended he was in the Air cadets. Just like Larry used to be. "Forward, left...right...left!" Over and over, his voice called out. He thought about the times he had spent in the woods and how important it was to have remembered his lessons.

          Kind of late now, eh kid? Will they ever find me? he worried.

          Lands and Forests had some excellent ideas on what to do if you were lost. But he hadn't been lost at first, just confused. Or was it the other way around? He found it hard to focus on anything that made sense. "Hug a tree," that's what he should have done. "Hug-a-tree," the moment he knew he was lost.

          "Move forward...to the lake...right, left, left," he kept repeating.

          What day was it anyway? Saturday? Sunday? He came out Friday night, so many thoughts. What a sucker he was. "And a dope." Just like Troy said, "Dope."

Friday...lets see then, Saturday was fun time, fishing in the stream. The worms he found fooled some great brook trout. He had cleaned them, placed them in the frying pan for a great breakfast and then... Yes! This must be Sunday.

          It was so hard to think straight. "Is this all a dream?"

          His tired mind had a tough time concentrating. "You can be so stubborn," Larry used to say. He hated that, but then, maybe he was right. And oh yes, "Act your age Sheldon!" was one of mom’s expressions when she was upset at him. Right on. He deserved to be treated like a child. Especially when he behaved like this.

          How could he lose his compass? He turned from his direction and spotted the water again through the trees.

          His leg throbbed even more as he dragged it up the hill. Tears formed, as he talked to himself. "Come on big boy, you can do it." He didn't want to die. He wanted to grow old. "Sorry dad. Sorry Larry. I really am. I should have told you, or mom, or the police. Maybe I would have changed my mind about coming here.

          Or my being lost...it's some kind of punishment for having it too good at home. Oh, that word. 'Home' sounded wonderful right now. "I want to see you again mom and tell you I'm sorry." His rambling brought on weeping. "Dad…why did you have to go away again?"

          The lake drew closer. He stepped over a bee nestled in buds. His eyes stuck out from his dirty face. He wished these blueberries were bloated and juicy. Instead, the dry spell had withered them. He grabbed at them, forgetting the bee.

His hands plucked greedily at the branches feeling them prick his skin. Why doesn't it rain? Even the blueberry bushes are thirsty. "I'm so hot. And tired."

          As he approached the edge of the lake, he could see tiny ripples. Trout nosing to the surface were anxious to nibble flies stranded on the water. If only he had his fishing rod, right now. His eyes hurt.

          He turned wearily and surveyed the lake. First time here in this unknown place. Then he sat down, looked at the sky, his face a question mark. "God, please help me!" he said. “Somebody please help me!" He watched the soft summer breeze create patterns on the lake's surface. His gaze took in the hills on the other side of the lake. It wasn't fair that he could be so miserable in such a peaceful place.

          He saw no roads, no houses, no cottages, no humans, and no sounds. Normally he would have been thrilled in the deep woods. Right now he felt hunger and pain. And helplessness.

          His legs creaked. He could barely get up. His stomach was cramped and his tongue repeated itself. "God, please help me."

          From his earliest childhood he knew God would help if you asked Him. Sheldon didn't go to church very regularly but he knew he needed some special attention. Right now. He remembered Sunday school mornings when he was younger. Even the day he received his first Bible from mom. "Please, someone."

          Then something magnificent did happen. As if a maestro had flung his baton high in the area, landing where he stood, marking his location. 

          His head turned towards a movement of sound. Perhaps it was from the crack of a branch, or an animal heading his way. Deer? A bear? He worried. Brush was pushed aside. Tops of willow branches began to quiver. "Run! Hide!" his mind was in alarm. Sheldon couldn't move at first. Then he willed his body, and stretched shakily to his feet. He didn't know what to do, or where to go. Confusion set in.

          He was mesmerized, his gaze focused as evening shadows began to fall. Tops of branches continued to mask the movement of something big heading right for him. He froze in his tracks.

          Then he saw through blurry eyes, the silhouette of a tall figure. And a familiar hat swung into view. The noise coming towards him suddenly stopped. And he looked, and stared. Fifty feet separated him from his hallucination. Could this be a dream? Was his imagination at play again? Sheldon pushed all thoughts of fun and games out of his mind.

          This was a serious moment. He searched the familiar face trying to decipher dream or fantasy. Or truth.

          He watched as eyes widened in surprise. Then his tears began to flow. His cracked lips could barely whisper, “Larry...oh, Larry." And then he was off, flying through the deep grass, as if propelled from a cannon. He was like a man in the circus shooting off into space.

          Except this time it was a boy. Not very tidy or smelling clean. But a boy who sprinted across a hundred foot stretch, knowing his life depended on it. He was unmindful of his soggy socks, ripped sneakers or torn pants and T-shirt. Nothing took away his attention. Not even squishy, uneven land bordering an unknown lake nestled in the forest slowed him up.

          Not the bloodied leg and arms munched from too many mosquitoes. Nor the once tired body that until a few moments ago had worn down. Nothing else mattered, except dashing forward.

          He had a destination that took control of his focus. It was those two outstretched arms and broad, smiling face of joy. Sheldon’s energized body became a scream of happiness that mouthed one name, "Larryyyy!!"

          His launch into space covered the last few feet and the boy buried his dirty face in the man's shoulder.