Someone's Son Chapter17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sheldon washed his hands in the cold creek, as shivers raced up and down his spine. Then he soaped under arms, face and shoulders. Never mind his bare stomach felt like a skating rink. He wasn't trying to be brave, just good hygiene.

          “That’s the quickest way to wake up,” Larry had said. And it was true, Sheldon thought, especially after so little sleep.

          Washing off soap brought forth grunts and groans and grabbed for his towel. Rubbing vigorously made him feel better. Then he picked up his now soaked shirt and rushed back to the tent. Rummaging through his kit bag, he found a clean long sleeved one. Seemed silly considering it looked to be a scorcher of a day ahead, but it would help keep the mosquitoes off.

          Several threatened to poke him to pieces if he didn't do something about it. And it was still so early in the morning.

          He dabbed Absorbine Jr. across the back of his hand and legs, the pungent odor soaking into skin. Then followed by the neck and ears with the soothing medicine-scent. Mosquitoes were more cautious now that he had some serious protection.

After a breakfast of bacon and eggs, he felt great. Orange juice powder mixed with creek water needed Halazone tablets to eliminate any impurities. And thankfully, he had packed them.

          Time to explore. It looked like a great day ahead. He searched for his compass but no luck. Then he remembered the fall in the early hours of this morning. "No sweat," he muttered.

          Larry always reminded, "Never be without a compass," after teaching him how to use one. Thinking about his fall allowed the pain in his leg to return. Sheldon decided to stick close to the creek while he did some exploring.

          Firstly, he checked on his supplies of cereal, bread, wieners, and canned goods. Placing the perishables in a large garbage bag, he hung them back in the tree shade, about seven feet off the ground. Opening up his sleeping bag he hung it on his rope clothesline. The sun should freshen up the material, while he was gone.

          Returning to his ten, he tied down the back window and zipped up the front screen door. A rain shower could easily mess up his clothing. The boy looked once more at his neat campsite, yellow tent snug under the shade of two large Spruces.

          After his gear was tucked away, he pocketed an apple for a food snack, and a chocolate bar for energy. Dishes were cleaned the best he could, using gritty sand from the creek. And utensils and plates were left in the open to dry.

          Camping is great, he thought. A hunting knife was snug on his hip. Then he set off wearing weathered Jeans and favorite scuffed sneakers. Denim was much better to ward off the raspberry bushes.

          The sounds of “caw-cawing” crows added to the excitement. He was in charge of his own destiny. And that was a good thing. Oh, almost forgot; he retrieved his notebook from his backpack.

          Recording his adventures might be great for a story someday. The ballpoint pen and notebook dropped into his chest pocket. And the Velcro flap secured it.

          "Off to explore," he wrote. "Should be at home instead," he added. It did seem strange being alone in the middle of nowhere. It made him wince to think of what he was missing. Pushing away negative thoughts, he finally began his journey.

          Sheldon cupped his hands trying to provide a landing spot, for a Monarch butterfly that drifted by. But it changed direction. Obviously, it didn’t want to take advantage of the boy's friendship. He began a meandering kind of walk along the top of the ravine. Before long, he even climbed the fallen trunk of a gigantic spruce.

          "This is really neat!" he shouted at the sky. "I love it here!!" was his second message before echoes responded. If Troy and Melanie were here they could clown around with a game of Capture-the-Flag, his favorite Scouting game.

          The beaver dam was just around the bend. Must be 150 feet across the creek. Sheldon figured he earned a rest and sat alongside the bank. "So that's what it looks like in the daytime," he said. The beaver family must be asleep, secure in the center of their newly created house. Beaver chips were reminders of the many Poplar trees felled by sharp teeth.

          He had a hard time concentrating on his direction, as eyes grew sleepy from the heat. It would be nice to have a short swim. He had such little sleep it might help wake him up.

          He thought seriously about it. It would have to be a skinny dip unless he wanted to get his jeans and under shorts wet. He reddened at the thought and remembered how he and Troy had come upon a group of older boys and girls swimming at Little Dyke Lake.

 

Both of them had gone for a bicycle ride after supper. They were coming around the bend when they suddenly heard laughing and splashing.

          They had stowed away their bikes and crept closer, staying near the trees and hiding at the edge of the lake. It was the first time he saw a girl in her underwear and it had made him flush. There was a quick pounding in his heart as he watched the white material stand out in the evening light.

          Two boys and three girls were chasing a beach ball and throwing each other around in the water. There was a lot of splashing going on. He knew he shouldn't be spying on them like this, but he stayed. He looked over at Troy who wasn't saying anything. Just looking.

          Sheldon remembered how embarrassed he was the first time he asked his mom about babies. The school Physical Education class didn't tell everything. He told mom he kissed Melanie. Once. He was only ten at the time, and seemed so long ago. Mom laughed, not in jest but at the fact her little man was maturing.

          Watching that boy and girl kissing brought back that pleasant memory. Then he pinched Troy on the shoulder. It was important for people to have their privacy and he had wanted to get out of there. But Troy wanted to stay.

What if they were spotted? Would they be chased or even beaten up?

          Another glance and both boys finally decided it was time to return to their bikes and head home.

 

Thinking about the incident made him change his mind about a swim in the beaver pond. What if someone came along? Besides he didn't want to be wearing any wet clothes on his hike. So that was that.

          Sheldon watched several crows having a racket-making contest. As his shadow fell across the water, trout scooted along the edge of the bank. Should he try some fishing? It would be easy to find worms. Maybe later he would come back and try his luck. What a feast he could have for supper.

          Sheldon set out again, smacking at the flies as he peered into the sun. Which way should he travel?

Looking down he noticed flowers scattered about. Their four leaves white as snow, winked back at him. Now he remembered his fly repellant. Turning around he could barely make out his yellow nylon tent on the other side of the beaver dam. It was too far to get it. Maybe too lazy was a better excuse.

          Then a thought struck him. He remembered Larry saying, "Using mud from a pond keeps the mosquitoes away." He took handfuls from the edge of the water and covered his ears, neck and hands and around his ankles. Now he was ready. Smelly, but at least he was better prepared for these pesky insects. They were little, but very bothersome.

          Now the muddy-faced boy headed deeper into the woods. And somewhere along the way made a wrong turn. Down a ravine, onto a second ridge, and became confused. Suddenly he closed his eyes. It was a thought nagging at him for the last little while. He was lost. There was no doubt about this feeling of panic. Almost like going down a familiar street and suddenly...the good old street post at his favorite corner was missing.

          And it wasn't the bus driver’s fault. It's just that Sheldon had changed the rules. At first, no compass, then fly repellant forgotten. Above all else he was alone in a strange area, and not even on a trail, just cross-country walking. He had broken all the rules.

          The trees took on an ominous look. They stared back with sullen frowns. Even the wind whistled a scary tune. "Fooled you, eh sonny? Got you now. Thought you were so smart. You should have stayed by that creek, no matter how many twists and turns it made."

          Too true, he had foolishly strayed from known territory. Not long ago he was snug as a dew worm under a clump of soil. What went wrong?

          Now he realized his little pup tent was like a castle. There was not only shelter, but lots of food. And juice. He wondered how the bag would hold out in the hot breath of sun. Was the knot holding? If it didn't, so long food. Area animals would have a feast. The image of a bear munching through his sack of foodstuff sent chills right down to his toes.

          Speaking of food, he was getting hungry. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about eating but he was going to anyway.

          Before he could plan his next move, he ripped off the paper wrapping and his chocolate bar was quickly devoured. Sitting on the damp grass, he carefully licked his fingers. Then he stuffed the paper wrapper in his pocket.

          No one was going to call him a litterbug.

          He flicked away a few mosquitoes and noticed one didn't quite make it. Blood streaked across the back of his wrist. A bee brought on a trembling as he remembered picking blueberries last summer. And one striking him above the upper lip followed by pain lasting two days.

          The sun blistered his eyes and a movement to his left made Sheldon jump. It was a whitetail deer. Its nose was breathing in his human scent. Ears stood up, rigid. He didn't move a muscle, as he absorbed the beauty of this wild creature. How could anyone kill such a gentle and proud looking animal? Would he change his feelings, as he got older and hunt them down?

          The doe stared at Sheldon as if wondering how this two-legged human ended up in this part of the woods.

          Sheldon had to change position before his leg went to sleep. He moved slowly, breaking a branch as his leg straightened. The deer turned quickly and leaped high over some fallen spruce. Its white tail bobbed up and down, as a storm-tossed rowboat on Shortt's Lake.

          Why did it run? Sheldon wouldn't hurt it.

          He tried to follow the only friend he had in the world at this time. Then fell flat on his face. The boy didn't have the same spring in his legs and his toe caught on a shrub. Sheldon tumbled head over heels, tearing a piece of jean material and slammed into the ground. His leg scraped under him. Pain came quickly and he was afraid to look down.

          Half of his cuff was torn at his left calf and now covered in blood.

          "Aggghh!!" he cried out. It smarted. Gingerly he touched around the wound. There was a four-inch slash and it really hurt. Several other scrapes paralleled the red smear. He didn't feel good at all.

          A sharp twig sticking out of the ground was what did the damage. Anger swelled up inside. He felt like ripping out trees. This is dad's fault he thought. No, Larry's. He was so upset. If only mom was here. She'd make him feel better. He missed her hugs right now. He wouldn’t think they were mushy at all. He wanted back in his own room. Was it just a few days ago he had started all this...?

          Sheldon remembered walking around his bedroom while in a pensive mood and paced off the 11' x 14' area. He thought it was a small space for a young man to stretch properly.

          He missed his books. They were impressive looking in their new shelving. Treasure Island from younger days to the more complex Lord of the Flies, were two of his favorites. And of course, who could not read the Hardy Boys Adventure novels?

          Last month he had picked up William Goldman’s book and thumbed through it. Imagine being lost in the middle of nowhere?

And now he was. Stumbling to his knees, mouth dry, hunger threatened his stomach. Emptiness inside was replaced by fear and fantasy. Now this was no fiction novel. It was a true story, and he was the main character. 

          He dreamed of cake. On his twelfth birthday he had made his first. Mom carefully supervised his idea. His plan was to have something special to remember that day.

 

It was a Pickwick Chocolate cake picked from the church's recipe book. Mom placed the right 'tools' for him to work with. And she rattled off all the proper instructions:

          1 cup of sugar. He had measured it in a plastic container, then plopped it into the large aluminium bowl. Grains splashed back over the rim. I cup of cold water was followed by 2 cups of flour.

          "How's the strainer, hon? Now put the flour in a little at a time and shake it. That's it. Good."

          He had enjoyed the attention mom always gave him. Why was he so tough on her this last little while?

          "OK now, carefully. Don't blow on the flour."

          Learning by experience, Sheldon did get a white face from trying to blow the remaining half-cup from the strainer. Next came the heaping teaspoon of soda mixed in with a cup of Miracle Whip salad dressing. Then he needed 4 tablespoons of cocoa and 2 teaspoons of vanilla.

          Sheldon had mixed everything well until a chocolate mush emerged. He dipped his finger for a quick taste, then "Delicious!"

          Mom had instructed him earlier to rub shortening around the cake pan and up the sides as well. "Now," mom had said. "A little trick. Put a bit of flour in the cake container and roll it all over covering the shortening. That’s so the cake won't stick."

          He followed every order, marveling at the transformation of this delicacy before him. Imagine, his very own cake. It was a special treat. After spooning his mixture into the cake pan he placed it into the pre-heated oven at 375 degrees for half an hour.

 

They had both waited patiently while his cake cooled. He looked up at his mom during this close encounter and noticed how tired she looked.

          Was she really happy with just one child?

          He had never loved his mom more than at that time. It was hard to believe it was almost a year ago. It was a different world from the wood