Our Lonely Nature

"Our Lonely Nature"

He got into his car, muttering curses under his breath. He did not like to curse, especially at people. But, when it came to objects, like the blizzard currently pounding the forest with snow, he maintained less verbal restraint.
It was March, early spring. The weather the past few weeks had been mild, seeming to indicate that spring was here to stay. Since he had been camping for a little over a week, the weather channel was unavailable to keep him informed. The storm was biting. He knew that sleeping through the first couple hours of snowfall posed a risk towards getting back to civilization before the roads become impossible. He hated getting snow on his leather seats, but to get the tent shaken out and dry off the rest of the campsite items was time that he could not afford.
He climbed into the driver’s seat of his SUV, grateful for the 4-wheel drive available at such a time. The front wheels spun a little as he tried to get onto the road, but the back wheels made traction and he was on his way.
The radio was getting static mostly. Garbled gibberish at best. He knew that the news reports would be saying the basic message to stay indoors and conserve heat in the likely event of power outage. Without the radio, something else was required to relax or at least distract him. So he threw in a Mozart CD and focused all his attention at seeing the road.
It was still fairly early in the morning, but it was bright enough out. The white out from the snow was a different matter. For some stretches he could see upto 50 yards out. In other places, he couldn’t see more than 10 yards in front of him at best. The new snow was atrociously slippery, as to be expected. He could not remember the last time he drove in snow this deep. He prayed out loud to himself for safe travel through the storm.
He drove a little faster than was really safe. But, of course, there was enough urgency to warrant some risk. He kept his attention in front of him, but he thought he noticed some movement to his right. He slowed down a bit, and risked turning to the side for a second. He knew the heavy pine trees were swaying a lot in the wind, yet he really thought he saw the silhouette of a person just off the side of the road. Given his circumstances, however, he knew it was extremely unlikely. It was some brush and some shadow distorted by the moving trees and snow. He didn’t give it another thought. The snowfall became thicker and suddenly he had to make a sharp left turn to avoid going off the road. The vehicle glanced off the guard rail briefly, but it shook him up and he slowed down to a stop to take a breath. In his mind he resolved to drive a few miles per hour slower. He turned the music off.
After half a minute he was about ready to get moving again. Before he took his foot off the brake, though, he heard a faint crunching sound, just barely audible over the soft hum of his SUV’s engine. At first he wasn’t sure he heard it at all, but after almost a minute, he could perceive a break in the sound and then the sound started again a few seconds later. It was very soft, yet such a manner of sound was definitely from a loud origin just at a great distance. He tried putting his window down, but the power windows could not move due to the ice on the outside. He considered getting out and determining where the sound was coming from, but he quickly decided against it, as it could very likely have been some natural sounds of trees blowing over in the wind or maybe the weight of the snow breaking off some old branches. If he was sure it was human sounds, he’d have been more inclined to investigate as he might find a secluded homestead to find immediate shelter instead of having to drive many more miles into the nearest town.
He started driving again and now his thoughts turned to self-blame. “I should have known not to come out too early in season on my own. Stupid. Stupid. Should have been prepared for crappy weather. I remember Gary told me before to make sure you bring someone along anytime you go deep wilderness camping. Just because the guys at work were pissing me off lately, I didn’t want any company. Now look at this garbage I’m in. I’m just about to get into an accident. I can‘t believe this.” Then he started wondering if he should have gone the other direction on the road, as maybe there were some closer settlements that way.
He was about to turn the CD player back on, but then decided he’d rather have the silence of the soft engine and the pendulum squeak of the wiper blades on the windshield. For the next three miles he hydroplaned five times, but he calmly turned the wheels back onto the road, patiently waiting to regain traction. Snow chains for his tires would be nice to have at this point. He didn’t complain anymore, though. He kept his focus on the road, occasionally humming along with the CD. The songs made him think of sitting in his living room with the fireplace emanating warmth.
The gas gauge inched closer to empty on the dashboard and he worried. His mind raced, thinking of the steps he would take when he was out of gas.
It seemed like hours he’d been slogging his way through the blizzard, trying to stay balanced on the unfeeling stumps that were his legs. He had spent much of that time practically throwing himself forward, rolling his suffering body on the downward hills. Hours ago, he began to wonder if the gas station he was struggling to was only in his mind. A phantom hope of a mixed up memory from some other trip. At this point, he stopped wondering. If it was real, he might survive. If it wasn’t, he would die. No point in wasting anymore energy thinking about it.
His mind returned from desperate imaginings. He sweat profusely, alternating his glance from the gas gauge to as far through the blizzard he could see. The needle was touching the letter “E” at this point. No way to tell how much longer he’d have. He wondered if instead of trudging through the snow in hope of reaching that gas station he might stay in his car. The temperature would drop dangerously, but he would be sheltered and had plenty of clothes to keep himself bundled up. Surely he could wait out the storm. Unless, of course, the snow gets deep enough to bury him. There was a slight possibility of that. On the other hand, once he stopped the car, it was unlikely he’d be able to get it moving again. In a couple hours, the snow would be too deep to drive in at all. And that’s if he’s even able to get the engine started again.
He was so deep in thought, and the snow was coming down so hard, he almost passed by without noticing. Luckily, his eyes caught something in the rear view mirror - the gas station. He let out a huge sigh of relief. He tried driving back in reverse but he began to lose control. The SUV spun and swerved, the tires spinning alternately. His right front tire dropped off the side off the pavement sharply. He was emotionally torn between the relief at finding the gas station and the horror of getting his car virtually stuck. He got out of the car and realized that he was sweating from the heat in the car. The wind cut through him like a knife and the wetness turned to biting ice. He should have taken off his jacket in the car. He high stepped his way back to the gas station which was about 20 yards back. It seemed a short way, but his legs disagreed. He was shocked at how fast the cold overcame his body as he started to shiver uncontrollably. It seemed like something out of a Jack London tale. That made him glance to see if there were any wolves lurking about. His heart almost stopped when he saw some movement to his right, but when he turned his body and deliberately scanned his field of vision he decided it had to have been some swaying branches.
He looked at the gas station. It looked pretty old, as he could tell the pumps lacked the credit card swipes that he was used to back home. Some of the windows were partially visible, even though most of them were covered with ice and snow. There didn’t seem to be any lights on inside, but it looked dry enough and the shelves looked fully stocked. It took him a minute to figure out where the doors were. He could already feel his hands and feet getting stiff. He bent over and dug with both his arms like a dog, clearing the snow away from the door. He had to pull with all his weight to get the door open wide enough to squeeze through. When he stepped in he was shocked to hear the digital chime that signifies the entrance of a customer. Everything else was silence. He stood frozen like a statue for a few seconds listening for anyone. There was enough gray light through the windows to see most of the room. He walked over to the register counter, scared at the loudness of the squeaking of his own boots on the tiled floor.
“Hello?” he said, a little louder than he intended. He heard some movement behind him, in the back corner of the store. The sound of a bag of candy falling to the floor was distinct.
“Hello?” he repeated, much softer this time. He saw the silhouette of a head rise above one of the aisle shelves and pause, staring. His eyes were locked on the ominous figure.
“Excuse me, I need some help, please,” he demanded of the shadow. The shadow cleared its throat.
“Me too.” It sounded like a woman’s voice, alto. The figure bent down and disappeared behind the shelves and some sounds of moving things around came forth. He took a step forward to see between the aisles but then the head reappeared and started walking towards him behind the far aisle.
She emerged at the close end of the aisle wearing a blanket. He looked at the blanket and noticed that even though he was a lot warmer than he just was out in the storm, it was still cold inside. The feeling was back in his extremities, though. “Um… my car is almost out of gas. I don’t know if I can get some gas here and try to keep going. Or maybe I can just stay here until the roads are cleared off a bit or something.”
She replied, “I would have left myself if I had a car. A bus comes out here every morning. It’s too far out to go home every day, though. Whoever is on shift usually sleeps in the back for a couple days. The weekend girl gets here Friday morning. These big blizzards happen a couple of times during the season. I’ve never gotten stuck here in one, though.” He noticed even in the poor light that she had a fair face that must have been quite pretty when she was younger. She noticed his eyes and was quick to add, “I have a gun to protect myself, just so you know. There are some crazies on the road sometimes. I wouldn’t hesitate to protect myself if I thought I was in the slightest danger.” She paused and looked out the window at the front of the store. The car was not visible from her vantage point so she turned back to him and said, “You can stay here for now, but you better not mess with anything or you can go out and sit in your car.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. I won’t touch anything, I’ll just stay over here.” She turned back down the aisle and went around the room to the front windows and looked out to see his car. She had to open the door for a minute to finally see it on the road.
“My name’s Vic, by the way.” She turned her head back towards him, then turned back around and shut the door. She walked back over the far corner where she originally stood and sat down. Victor looked about and realized that he was really hungry from not having breakfast or lunch. She said he had to pay for anything he took for now. He was about to sit down with his armful of snacks and drinks when he noticed something move by the window near the register.
“Hey, there’s someone outside over there!” he said back to the clerk lady. He ran over to the door and pushed to squeeze outside. He ran over to the corner of the building, but there was no one there. “Hey! Anybody out here?” he yelled. He ran to the back of the building and repeated himself. The wind whistled in his ears. The snow flew in sideways and stung his face as he turned around to go back inside. He looked over his shoulder again and turned, this time yelling as loud as he could. No answer. He went back inside. He asked the clerk if there was anyone out there but she just remained laying on the floor, no response.
When he woke up, his watch showed it was five in the morning. His neck and back were really stiff from sleeping on the hard tiles. He got up and went to use the bathroom. He opened the door wide but there was almost no light to see from. He should have asked the lady for a flashlight. His head touched something and he stopped. He put his hands up to it and felt what it was. It was rough and dry. Rope. Rope tied into a noose. Victor backed into the wall and turned his eyes back out the door. He did not hear the clerk. She must have been still asleep. This was the only bathroom in the building. She must have known the noose was there. Had she put it there? Why would she make a noose? Even if she was suicidal, wouldn’t she have used it if she had put it up, or at least taken it down if she changed her mind? Then Victor thought of her gun. If she had a gun, wouldn’t that have been a better option than the noose. Victor remembered that women’s suicide attempts were often less violent methods. He also remembered that women rarely succeed in their first attempt because the act is more of a cry for help. The clerk certainly didn’t seem like she had this kind of problem when he talked to her. But she did come off as a little weird.
Victor remained against the bathroom wall, not sure what to do. He finally decided that this was a serious problem that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. He thought he might be able to talk to her and help somehow, at least until the roads were cleared out and he could call the police or an ambulance. Everything was very quiet and there was barely enough light from the moon to see. The windows were entirely glazed over, but the ice was thin enough near the top to let some light in. He began walking over to where the lady was stationed. She wasn’t there. Her blanket was there, though. So were her gloves. He stood up and scanned the store to see if she had moved. He walked past the aisles but did not see her. He went over behind the register counter. Nothing.
“Miss? Hello? Are you still in here?” He thought he heard a hinge squeak in the back room. As he walked out from behind the counter he noticed there was some fresh snow tracked in through the door. It must have been within the past hour or two as it wasn’t melted much. He tried the doors that go into the back storage room but they were locked. He couldn’t tell if it was locked from a key on the outside or by a turn bolt on the inside. He listened through the door but couldn’t hear anything.
He walked back to the front door and pushed it open. It moved open much easier than he expected and he almost fell over. The snow was still falling but much lighter than the day before. He could see much farther and he looked out towards his car. He could not see it. He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment, hearing nothing, and then scanned the entire field of vision in front of the gas station. The snow was up to his waist, past where the door step was cleared off. The snow definitely looked lumpy and uneven in the direction of his SUV. Victor was in disbelief. He thought that the light was bad, so he trudged his way a little ways out to the vehicle, looking for any mound big enough to be it. He got about halfway to where he last remembered it was but there was nothing remotely close to what he looked for. Victor could only stand, frozen in confusion for a moment, considering the possibilities. His body continued walking over to where the SUV was supposed to be, his mind in a disconnect, his eyes fixed on the empty whiteness, and his mouth slightly parted.
Victor looked around and saw only snow. The snow was not perfectly level, though. It was bumpy as though it had covered up some earlier movement. This was not just from the direction he had came, but also between the vehicle and the side of the road. Victor dashed over to the side of the road, where it sloped steeply off towards a gully, running underneath the road. The SUV was on its side, partially under the road. As nervous as he was about all this, Victor started to notice the cold as he shivered uncontrollably and his teeth chattered intermittently.
He got back inside the gas station. It occurred to him that Nature isn’t always so wonderful. He always enjoyed camping and finding some quiet time to himself outdoors, yet he had to admit that technocracy of modern society provided him with the means to escape Nature’s unpleasant extremes. Of course there were many times he enjoyed roughing it for a few days. But the hard times of backpacking under the blaring sun, or making a fire in the rain were always softened by the knowledge that he would soon return to his house in the city and sleep in that warm, soft bed. Perhaps, subconsciously, Victor had been prolonging his trips as of late and being less cautious when packing for emergencies. Maybe he wanted to get stuck in the wild, to get stranded in a sea of white cold. Obviously he never had this wretched situation in mind, and he wished he were out of it. Was he driven towards self-destruction? He knew that wasn’t true. Probably more that he just yearned to detach himself from the nine-to-five rat race. For good this time. His life in the city was comfortable and he had fun on the weekends playing wallyball or going out for dinner and a movie with friends. As satisfying as each enjoyable activity was, however, the tiny splinter slipped deeper under his toes. It’s a splinter not visable enough to verify the irritator is anything more than imaginary, yet is inconsistently painful enough to take your shoe off and scratch the ends of your toes. Every bit of fun is a temporary fix, a prolonging of the inevitable. The dreaded straw that breaks the camel’s back. Victor feels like his life hasn’t been extraordinarily difficult, but all those rushed deadlines, all those insults he bore, every test he worried over . . . All those tiny insignificant problems he’d dealt with hadn’t washed over him. His sanity was a sponge, soaking up all the little bits of dirt and grime.
Victor decided if anyone heard all these thoughts, they’d say he was repressing his feelings. Bottling things up. Victor knew he was more than a two-dimensional sitcom character. He was a regular kid that grew up watching TV and movies and learning a lot lessons and values about health whether it be the physical, mental, or spiritual kind. He knew to say no to drugs. He knew to use protection when having sex. He knew it was wrong to lie, cheat, and steal. Yes, he knew it was unhealthy to bottle things up. He had no trouble talking about these hard times and frustrations to his friends or family. Their sympathy and understanding was always a healing salve. He used relaxing breathing techniques and made time for personal recreation. He did Yoga for a couple months once and that made him feel exhilarated despite the day’s problems. Most importantly, he was honest with himself and he never tried being someone he wasn’t. He didn’t bottle things up.
On the other hand, every once in awhile, Victor’s life felt like an epic book. He felt that he’d made so many accomplishments, and faced so many obstacles, he wished he could finally reach the summit of climax and enjoy the downhill slope of peace and happiness. Yet, Victor knew life was filled with conflict and that’s what makes it worthwhile. How else could great triumphs be achieved without great difficulties to overcome? Victor remembered the old affirmation by Thomas Paige, “What we attain too easily, we esteem too lightly.” Victor knew all this. But he could not help but still be bothered by the cycle of constant skirmishes between life’s hassles and his strivings for contentment. He knew his job was a world of sprouting crises and he liked to go camping to escape.
What is it about the forest that feels so wholesome, so rejuvenating and right? The soothing sounds of trees rustling against each other. The optimistic bird songs of a brisk morning after the evening rain filtered the fresh air. The babbling brook with its cool kiss on the lips of the thirsty passerby. Then his mind returned to his comfortably thawed body and he remembered that nature was no paradise. As beautiful and tranquil as it could be, it also bore the claws of climate and the struggle of survival. And, ironically, his camping trips could always force a loneliness into his thoughts. Even though some privacy was enjoyable after a hard work week, even though he knew many aspects of camping would be less enjoyable with company, there was still a longing for others. The qualities of others that we yearn for: kindness, sharing, discussion, laughter, understanding, teamwork, and unconditional love.
A door slammed closed in the back. Victor turned and hurried over to the door leading into the back room. He turned the knob slowly. The soft rusty squeaks seemed deafening. Victor had two possibilities to consider: either throw the door open and surprise whoever was back there, or else try to open it slowly and not let his presence be known. He stood there frozen like a statue, his heart pounding in his ears. His mind raced but there was nothing to base a decision on. Victor pushed on the door to open it slowly, but it wasn’t moving. He pushed harder. The door knob wobbled a little, making sound. His eyes wide and his breathing heavy, Victor threw his shoulder into the door and it flew open, slamming loudly on the other wall. His eyes strained to see everything at once and analyze it for danger. It was a storage room with many shelves of canned foods and bottles. There was a dusty rider mower in one corner. But the frosted windows didn’t let much light in. It remained a grainy illumination, hard to make things out. Victor’s gaze was very deliberate and strained, but in those first seconds he didn’t see anyone. A loud crash straight ahead of him made his tense body jump in reaction. The back door blew open from the whistling wind and crashed loudly closed again. Victor let his breath out and felt some relief.
Victor browsed through some of the foodstuffs, picking out a can of beef stew one of chicken noodle soup. He saw a heavy blanket next to one of the shelves. It looked dirty, and probably smelled oily and damp but he decided he’d take all he could get to combat the cold. Especially considering how long it might take the plows and rescue crews to arrive. Before he grabbed the blanket, Victor paused. Then he slowly lifted up one of the edges and was afraid. It was a shoe. Inside the shoe were feet, to which a jean-covered leg was attached to. Victor put the edge of the blanket down and tried shaking the center of the blanket mass. It seemed to be a whole body under there. Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to verify that. He squatted over to the other end of the blanket and pulled up the corner. It was the clerk. She wasn’t sleeping, but rather looked unconscious due to cuts and bruises on her head. She wasn’t bleeding seriously, but it looked bad. Victor started to turn just in time for his peripheral vision to catch sight of the crow bar swinging down into his head. There was the sudden flash of light and he was floating. . .
When Victor came to, he was laying underneath a blanket between the aisles in the gas station store. His head throbbed viciously for a moment until he realized a greater pain drowning it out. He pressed his hand to his left knee and grimaced. His attacker must have taken the crow bar to the side of Victor’s knee as well. Victor writhed in pain, gasping intermittent breaths in between the throbbing pain. His head became dizzy from the sudden movement and Victor fell onto his back. He spent several minutes patterning his breathing until he was able to start thinking about things beyond the pain. His eyes roamed about his surroundings and he noticed the clerk laying on the floor at the end of the aisle. Victor also noticed a bottle of chloroform a few feet from her head with a couple rags next to it. Victor’s mind raced, considering his options of how to get out of this nightmare. At this point, he didn’t think he’d be able to sit up for awhile, never mind making a run for it. Even if he were in perfect health, he wouldn’t last long in the freezing snow with no one to help for miles. And even if he could succeed in running away, Victor felt it would be cowardly and selfish to leave the clerk to the mercies of their attacker.
Victor wondered if he was going to die and thought how pointless and alone it would be to die in a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Often Victor had told himself he wasn’t afraid of death, but when he said that he pictured death as a quiet shadow of old age. He never imagined being murdered or maimed. Neither did he think of cancer or some other ravaging disease as his reaper. Regardless of how Victor expected to die before, he was terrified for his life presently. He whispered silent pleas to God to deliver him from this unimaginable suffering for awhile. He gradually drifted back to sleep.
“Wake up,” said a voice.
Victor’s eyes opened and his heart jumped. He turned his head to see the clerk, her head swollen in various spots from the cuts and bruises. Somehow, her eyes still seemed beautifully crystalline despite the contortions of her face. Her hair, too, appeared soft and sleek despite the disarray of the strands.
“Are you hurt bad?” she asked.
Victor felt the throbbing in his head and left knee pound louder and louder, like approaching war drums.
“Arrrgh. Shit. Yeah, it’s hurts like hell. Oh, man, I’ve never hurt so bad before.”
“Can you stand up?” she asked.
Victor turned to look at her again. “The bastard smashed my head and the side of my knee with a crowbar. I don’t even know if I can sit up right now.” He saw that her face was strong and confident, despite the injuries, but he also noticed a slight sense of desperation in her eyes. “How bad are you?” Victor inquired.
“Nothing broken. It’s mostly just my head that hurts, but I took plenty of ibuprofen so I’m okay right now. When it happened, I just saw this really grizzly looking man with wild eyes step out from behind a door and look at me. It almost looked like he smiled. A happy smile like from a kid at Christmas. I tried to run but he grabbed my arm and hit me. Then I think he put chloroform over my mouth.”
Victor noticed that they had been whispering the whole time.
“Did he. . . did he DO anything to you?” Victor was genuinely concerned. His face was serious with a protective look to it. He didn’t know her at all, but when it came to rape, he almost acted like a big brother or father ready to deal out swift reprisal.
“No, he didn’t touch my clothes. He must have moved both of us out here from the back, though.
“What’s your name?” Victor asked.
“Ruth,” she replied. She looked around for a minute, almost holding her breath, and listened intently. Soon she turned back to him and said, “Don’t you think we should be talking about how we can get the hell out of here!?!” Her arched eyebrows made startled him.
Victor made a slow effort to sit up. His head wasn’t so dizzy now. Just then, Ruth froze. Victor turned around to see their attacker standing silently like a statue, almost like he’d been there for hours. He wore thick flannel shirts in layers, a heavy weather-stained brown vest, ragged Gortex overalls over blue jeans, and worn Timberland boots. His hair was dirty and stiff and looked like it had been cut with a knife due to the random variance of length. He had a dirty bird that also looked like it was trimmed without the benefit of scissors. His eyes looked cold and direct. His hands wore heavy ragged work gloves and in his left hand he held a wood-chopping axe.
It took Victor a moment to force out, “What do you WANT?”
The man stood there unmoving for a moment. Then his eyes moved to the upper corner as if considering the question. His gaze returned to Victor, occasionally drifting to Ruth and slowly drifting back to Victor again. The man’s mouth curled into an amused smile and he chuckled a deep belly coughing laugh. “Ah, what do I want. What do you want. What does anyone and everyone want. Indeed.” The man seemed very amused, as though he had entered a Philosophy classroom. He drew his free hand to his chin and looked about for a bit, smiling all the while. Then he turned back to Victor again and said, “I’d say everyone wants to know the difference between what the want and what they need.” He turned to Ruth and continued, “But enough questions. You will be my friends. Yes. Follow me to my home willingly or I will carry you. If I carry you, it will be because you will hurt worse than you do now.”
Victor couldn’t imagine he could feel worse than right now, but he decided he’d rather not find out. . .
The three of them trudged through the snow at a turtle’s pace. The jailer walked behind his hostages a few meters back. Victor had his arm around Ruth since he couldn’t stand on his left leg. The snow was hip deep in most places, deeper around slope bases from snowdrift. It had begun to snow again, rather heavily but without the heavy winds of a blizzard. It was a quiet, muffling snow. Pure and clean. Cold and deadly. Victor and Ruth were bundled up with all the blankets and clothing they could scrounge up. They even used some duct tape to hold the blankets over them.
Victor turned his head in the direction of their assailant. “You think you could take turns helping me walk, guy?”
Eventually, he turned to regard Victor and responded, “You’ll never manage out here if you can’t take care of yourself.”
“Come on, dammit. You were the one who busted my knee up!”
Their captor just sighed. He looked as though he were deciding whether or not to answer, then, “We must deal with our misfortunes as they come. Pointing fingers at those responsible may give us solace, but it doesn’t fix the problem.” He stopped. Victor and Ruth turned around. “You better get used to dealing with things, rather than complaining about them. A dead friend doesn’t make very good company. Keep moving.”
Victor and Ruth regarded the direction they had come. The gas station was no longer visible through the dense forest of snow covered conifers. The cold had started creeping through their clothing, the notion of numbness looming in their minds. Frostbite.
They continued on down a small hill and soon up a bigger one. It felt like walking through molasses. The snow made walking an ordeal, injury or not. They had been walking for over an hour and only their body heat from this forced march kept them from freezing stiff. The numbness had krept into their shins and upto their elbows. It felt like walking with broom handles for legs.
Victor fell over in the snow and Ruth was too cold to try to help him. She stood there, able to think of nothing but a warm fire and a dry place to sleep. The man picked Victor up with a fireman’s carry and walked on past Ruth. “We’re almost there,” he said. “I promise.” She watched him for a bit, and then followed.
There certainly didn’t seem anything sweet about their kidnapper’s home. It wasn’t a nice spacious round bear’s cave, the type you normally think of when you hear the word ‘cave.’ Rather, the entrance was a diamond shaped fissure on a slope of rock. Inside, the ceiling left much to be desired. It was not of uniform height. In some places it gave almost six feet of height, but mostly it varied from three to four feet, meaning you had to crawl to get around. The ground was unforgivingly hard. The one luxurious quality the cave seemed to have was the side walls were pretty spread apart so there was a surprising amount of space. In one area there were supplies and some food that looked to have been taken from the gas station.
The next few days simply seemed unreal to Victor. It was like he was watching his life from outside himself, as though this couldn’t be happening to him. He should have been back in his apartment, reading Frost on his sofa. Instead, he was bundled up in dirty blankets as the light of dawn started creeping its way across the cave entrance. Victor had slept intermittently during the past few nights, but the biting cold always seemed to sneak in under the blanket as soon as he’d let down his guard. It was so cold. Victor had never been so cold in his life. During the days he had to limp around the best he could for hours. He had to endure the pain in his leg just to produce body heat to stay relatively warmer. The kidnapper had made a fire in the cave the first night to dry out their wet clothes. He used wood that didn’t make much smoke and kept the fire low, apparently as a precaution against giving away their position to potential search and rescue teams. But that was the only time they had a fire, only to evade the deadliness of wearing wet clothing in this weather.
Their kidnapper forbade them to make any fires, but it wasn’t just fear of giving away their location. He told his hostages that they would come to be too dependent on fire if they made it for anything but emergencies. Victor remembered sitting around the fire with Ruth and their kidnapper that first night and it seemed ironic to be sharing the life-saving warmth with a criminal maniac. Fire was something that brought people together under harsh circumstances. Sort of like how people cooperate to survive easier and more efficiently. Yet, fire is often difficult to create and easily extinguished without thorough knowledge of its workings. Fire could also grow out of control and consume those that use it improperly. Like fire, Victor thought, there is a force at the nucleus of society that binds it. But it is a dangerous force no man can touch or control without constant diligence. Society must be made up of thousands of these little fires, with people seeking out those that offer the most warmth and security without being too crowded to get near. Some fires attracted people who liked to sing together. Others attracted those who enjoy the dancing images and visions in the flames. Still other fires seemed to draw those that sought a single friend, or even solitude. Alone, the fires were a great deal of work to initiate and maintain, but they paid off in freedom and reflection. These fires could be tailored to one man’s desires, yet it could not respond to conversation, it could not sympathize with feeling cold. Victor also imagined there must be some people that are the type to go off by themselves even when they don’t know how to start a fire. Their yearning for escape blinds them to their own inability to get by alone. Victor considered himself to be in this category. Yes, he had basic skills as a camper. But he still depended on the Gore-Tex jackets, the polypro underwear, and the waterproof dome tents. He depended on the car he drove to get deep in the wilderness. He depended on the food he brought with him that he bought at the grocery store. Victor knew he’d be extremely hesitant to trade all these things for true independence from society.
The kidnapper came over to Victor. He held a bow and arrow and said, “I will be out hunting. If you or the girl try to run, I will hunt you as well.” Then he walked out.
Most of the time Ruth was silent. She seemed be wrapping herself up in denial, as though it might protect her from all that was going on. Victor often tried talking to her, but she rarely responded. When she did, she answered with very few syllables. While the kidnapper was with them, he got angry whenever Victor moved close to Ruth. Victor got the impression it wasn’t just a male jealousy thing. The kidnapper seemed almost like a child not wanting to be left out of the group, to be outcast.
At the moment, however, their kidnapper had stepped out. Victor used his arms to prop himself up and scoot closer to Ruth. She noticed that the kidnapper was gone, but she still seemed almost catatonic. Victor put his arm around her and opened up the blankets she had on. He got in closer to her, added his own blankets and closed them into a cocoon. They stayed that way for twenty minutes. She put her head on his shoulder and attached herself. She seemed like a babe trying to drain his heat into herself, but in this task they were more symbiotic than parasitic. An hour later, Victor woke up. He looked around, nervous about the return of the kidnapper. He woke Ruth.
“We should get up and move around,” he said. “That bastard will be back soon, anyways.”
They got up slowly, their muscles sore and stiff from the hard ground and the cold. Outside the sun was out and bright. Ruth walked over to the cave entrance. The air was very still without any wind, so she stepped out and basked in the sun. She heard some birds singing loudly close by. It seemed amplified by the silence of the air, better than any amphitheater she’d been to. Off in the distance, she heard a faint sound. It was rhythmic. She held her breath to hear it better. Victor stepped out next to her and she shushed him and put her hand up to indicate not to move. The sound got slightly deeper.
“It’s a helicopter,” she said.
“I don’t hear anything,” doubted Victor.
Ruth was silent and listened some more. It was hard to tell which way it was coming from.
“Wait, I think I do hear something,” whispered Victor. His head was tilted dog-like, listening intently. The sound got louder over the next ten minutes. Then they spotted it coming from the West. It was still a ways off and very tiny, but seemed to be coming in their general direction.
“Get back inside.” Victor and Ruth whipped around to see the kidnapper carrying a small doe. “I don’t think I need to say that again,” as he clenched his free hand tightly.
The kidnapper followed them into the cave and set the doe down. He moved towards the back of the cave to stow his hunting gear. Victor and Ruth looked out the entrance of the cave, listening to the sound of the helicopter.
“Don’t be getting any wild ideas about being rescued,” the kidnapper said over his shoulder. “We’re quite a ways from the gas station and the storm covered our tracks coming out here.”
Victor thought that rescuers could still notice the tracks the kidnapper made while hunting. That idea made his heart beat faster and louder in his ears. After a moment, though, he doubted the authorities would ever get close enough to see such tracks before the weather wiped them out again.
“Watch how to skin the deer,” the kidnapper said. Victor stood where he was and watched the grisly performance. He had to turn away early into it, at the sight of all the blood and tissue. He turned back to watch it the best he could at the angry commands of the kidnapper. Ruth was grossed out as well, but she was able to watch straight through, almost hypnotized by such a foreign sight. Victor thought that his weak stomach had to do with his imagination. He thought that he associated the corpse of the doe with his own body and could not help but think of how it would feel, having his own skin torn away so methodically, so unmercifully. Victor felt it was horror to think of your own body as something so temporary and vulnerable. Victor was never a vegetarian. He was a member of PETA in college, but he found that even though he detested the thought of slaughtering cattle, he still ate cheeseburgers at Burger King, and he still ordered Prime Rib at restaurants. He still ate chicken and had turkey for Thanksgiving. He never really felt guilty about it, but seeing the dead doe in front of him, it’s skin torn away and it’s eyes vacant, Victor felt a deep pit in his gut.
That night, Victor saw the doe in his dreams. It seemed to talk, but he could not hear what it said. It walked away from him and Victor tried to catch up. He didn’t know why he chased it. He just wanted to make amends, to somehow express how sorry he felt that it had to feel the pain of dying. But he felt like he was running on a treadmill and the doe walked into the woodline without a second glance back. Victor knew it was ludicrous to feel so desperate over the animal. All reason shouted at him, telling him how foolish it was to be so concerned with the animal. Victor heard the distant whisper of drums and thumping lyrics. “LIFE feeds on LIFE… feeds on LIFE… feeds on LIFE… feeds on LIFE…feeds on THIS…IS…NECESSARY… THIS… IS… NECESSARY.” Victor truly believed that all life is important. And though he felt that all creatures and things were amazing in their own way, he had to concede that human life is more valuable than animals or plants. Yet, for all the beauty and all the wonder of existence, Victor could still not shrug off death so easily, even for a doe. The idea of dying was one thing. The idea of how much pain and suffering often accompanies it, that… that was something far less… just.
When he awoke from his dream the full moon light spilled into the cave. Victor saw the kidnapper forcing himself on Ruth. His eyes looked opaque and glazed over as though reason and decency could be turned off with a light switch. She was fighting him, cursing, but he had bound and gagged her. He had nearly pulled his pants open when he felt Victor’s foot kicking swiftly into his crotch from behind. The initial shock crumpled the kidnapper to the floor. He fully experienced that terrible floating sensation in his gut, accompanied by inhuman throbbing. The adrenaline shot through kidnappers veins and he pounced back up to see Victor with all his weight shifted on one leg. Victor had used his injured leg for the kick and the effort renewed the screaming burning pain in his knee. Victor’s head swam with adrenaline as well, though more from the fear of what was to come next. The kidnapper roared and took a powerful right arm hook at Victor’s head. Surprised at himself, Victor moved forward rather than backward. He blocked the hook with his left forearm. Simultaneously, Victor used both their momentums to deliver a lighting blow to the nose that threw the kidnapper on his back. Before Victor could be amazed by his own action, his injured left leg that he had stepped forward with buckled under him and he fell over hard on his side.
Ruth managed to loose herself for the most part, though she was still bound at the wrists as she could not manage the knots with her teeth. Ruth lifted a large rock and moved to target their kidnapper’s head, which lay dazed from the full force of landing on rock. Victor suddenly saw what she was about to do. Victor thought to stop her from killing the kidnapper, but he was frozen with his mouth open. Ruth noticed Victor’s pose and wavered. The rock was heavy and she would not have the strength to lift it again. The kidnapper seemed to be coming around. Ruth could see the whole dilemma in Victor’s eyes. She knew he didn’t want her to murder him. From that gaze, Ruth also knew Victor had no other ideas as to how they would escape the kidnapper’s wrath if she did not kill him. She saw his hesitation and in that brief moment she knew that was something they could not afford on her part. Her arms felt as though they had disappeared, they were so exhausted by the effort of suspending the rock. Yet, with every ounce of strength of will and anger she had left, she hurled the rock down at the kidnapper with all her might as if the rock itself could obliterate all the awful memories of the past few days.
A few minutes later, Ruth emerged from the cave in the moonlight. The full moon was very pale and bright in the clear, snow cleansed sky. Victor slowly emerged a few moments after her. They were silent and did not look at each other. They had both bundled up with clothes and blankets, each carrying a few food items. Victor also carried the kidnapper’s weapons with him that he retrieved from the back of the cave. Ruth walked very deliberately and carefully down the sides of the rocky hill, slow enough for Victor to keep up with his leg injury several meters behind. After a ways, they had to help each other in navigating the proper way back to the gas station. As they walked in the snow muffled night, the wind occasionally blew softly and every now and then it was accompanied by the fearsome yet beautiful howl of a lone wolf. At first the sound made the pair stop in their tracks. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was more like a deep emptiness, a sound of isolation and freedom, that was both alien and familiar.
They found the road just before dawn, and it had been plowed fairly well considering how much snow had covered it. It took less than an hour along the road to get back to the gas station. They saw there was a police car in front. They were very glad to get back into the warmth of the store and have the authorities already there. The policeman was surprised to see them, and said that he was there for the safety of the new clerk. Victor and Ruth told him a fairly abbreviated version of what happened, but it was enough to satisfy the policeman and get him to take them home after radioing for a replacement to stay with the gas station clerk until a search & capture team could head out to the hills.
Neither Ruth or Victor were very specific on how they got away from their kidnapper. It was like an unspoken agreement between them. They had both faced the despicable dilemma of survival and seen the harshness of it. Victor had succeeded with his courage to gain a temporary advantage over their jailor. Ruth succeeded in making the tough decision in the moment when everything hung in the balance. What’s more, her solution saved her from the moral implications of murder. Though she had originally intended to smash their kidnapper’s head with that rock, she saw another choice. She targeted the kidnappers leg instead. Ruth’s choice certainly entailed more risk. It was not a sure thing when it came to ending the danger, but it worked. It left the kidnapper injured enough where he could not follow them.