A Walk in the Woods

“Dad! I’ve got no bars!”

“Now Trevor, you know you’re too young to go into a bar,” his dad said from the front seat as he drove their SUV through the towering trees over what could charitably be called a road. He was always making remarks he thought were funny.

“Come on, dad, you know what I mean!”

“That’s the whole point of this trip,” said his mother, looking back at him from the passenger side. “We’re trying to get away from all the electronic noise and be together as a family.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got no bars! I can’t tell how my Clan is doing. We’ve got an event tonight. What if they need me?”

“I’m sure they can soldier on without you,” his father said.

Trever slumped back in his seat. There was no service at all. No Twitter, no feeds, no Facebook, nothing. He knew fourteen year old boys weren’t supposed to cry, but he was having a hard time keeping it together.

“Here we are,” his father said. Trevor slowly looked up in the gathering darkness to see they had pulled up in front of an actual log cabin.
Could it get any worse?

“What’s that dump?”

“That dump is our home for the next two weeks,” his mother said. It had gotten worse.

“Two weeks! I thought we were only going to be here a weekend!”

“Trev, you never listen. I’m sure I told you it would be two weeks.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Two weeks! That’s insane! What are we going to do in the middle of nowhere for two weeks?”

“Fish, walk, enjoy nature,” his father said as he got out. “Come on help me unload.”

Trevor just sat in his seat. His father yanked the door open. “Now, Trevor!”

He got out, and started helping his father carry their luggage. The first floor was one large living room and kitchen, with an upstairs with three bedrooms. It at least had running water and a bathroom, along with a couple chairs and a couch in the living room, facing a massive stone fireplace. That was it, though. No TV. No computer. No nothing.

His father lit a fire, and they sat in front of the fireplace. Trevor tried to imagine flame thrower armed Pyros leaping in the flames. It didn’t help.

That night, his dreams were filled with snipers and soldiers. Somehow, his own weapons didn’t seem to work, and he was constantly respawning, only to be cut down again and again. He awoke in a cold sweat. It took him a long time to get back to sleep.

His father roused him out at first light. They ate breakfast, then he trudged after him down to a nearby river. They were actually going fishing.

“You know, they have these things called stores,” Trevor said while his father put together the poles. “It’s a much better way to get food.”

“It’s not just about getting food. It’s about relaxing and enjoying nature.” Trevor looked around. Okay, he had to admit the trees did look nice in the early morning light. There were birds singing, the sound of running water, the Sniper pointing a rifle at him…

Trevor threw himself flat. His father looked back at him, concerned.

“Trevor, are you okay? Did you fall?”

Trevor looked up slowly. He could have sworn there was a sniper from the game across the river, but that was impossible. There was nothing there now.

“Yeah, I…I must have tripped on a rock,” Trevor said, getting to his feet.

“You need to be careful out here, son. There’s no pavement to walk on.”

“Tell me about it.”

They got their poles, and his father showed him how to cast. Soon Trevor was sitting on a rock, trying to forget what he’d seen. He noticed his right hand was trembling. It kept moving back and forth on his own, almost as if he was moving a mouse. He gritted his teeth and forced it to be still. Then his line twitched. He had a bite. He hauled back on the pole and stood, reeling in the fish.

A Heavy armed with a mini gun leapt out of the water at him. Trevor fell backwards, and saw it was just a fish on the end of his line.

“Hey, you caught one. Nice job.” His father came over and took the fish off the hook. “That’s a nice catfish. It’ll taste good tonight. Did you fall again?”

“Yeah, I guess I got excited.”

“Completely understandable.”

Trevor wished he could understand what was going on. The rest of the time he kept starting, looking over his shoulder and across the river. Nothing else happened, and they were walking back when his father stopped and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Trevor,” he whispered. “Take a look over to the right. Do you see that?”

Trevor stared. It was a Soldier pointing a rocket launcher…no, wait, it was a deer. Just a deer. It was a large buck with a full rack of antlers. It looked at them, then bounded away.

“You’ve got to admit, you won’t see that in one of your games.”

“I guess not.”

After lunch they went on a hike. Trevor walked behind his parents, breathing hard, clenching his hands together to stop the trembling. Every pinecone was a grenade. The wind was machine gun fire. Birds were whizzing bullets.

“Get a grip, Trev,” he told himself. He forced himself to look around. The trees were just trees, not guys with shotguns. Pinecones were just pinecones. This was real. The game was not. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. By the time they got back to the cabin, it was just the normal heavy breathing from a long walk.

He was tired that night, slept well and woke refreshed. He realized his parents may have a point. Maybe he did play too much. Not that he would ever admit it to them.