Sunday, January 12, 2014

Week 1 - Leaving Tracks


So this is my first week done.  I know it's kinda short, but I was interrupted with a sports injury on Friday evening, and have had no time whatsoever in which to really round this off.  Consider this the start of a big idea possibly.  That's basically what these stories are to me anyway.  

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     I pulled up to the sleek silver camper and shut off my old truck.  The engine rumbled and shuddered to a halt.  I pressed the brake and shifted the clunker into gear.  I rolled up the scratched glass and sealed the atmosphere into the deteriorating vehicle.  I shoved the dilapidated door halfway open, and pushed it roughly to give me enough room to clamber out of the old clunker.  I shoved the door closed with a grunt and ensured that my gear in the truck bed was still secure.
     I approached the old Airstream, the aluminum shining in the forest light.  Closed boxes lay scattered upon picnic tables and the ground.  Household items, fishing rods, hunting gear and sportsmen magazines were visible through the open camper door.  Footsteps pounded heavily through the camper floor and an older fellow in his fifties appeared in the doorway.  A melancholy look pervaded his features and a gray unkempt beard decorated his face.  He looked me up and down as if evaluating me. 
     "Hey, nice camper." I said, breaking the relatively silent forest.  Birds sang out in the quiet and a woodpecker knocked away in the distance.  
     "Yeah, it's a '72."
     "So I heard you were thinking about selling it?" 
     "Yep. Sure was.  Sold it yesterday to a hunting club." He said.  My hopes fell a bit at his last statement.  I had been hoping to spend a few days around his campsite, fishing the nearby river and exploring the terrain.  Maybe even try to rent it.  Out here in the swamps and rivers of Florida, there weren't many places this secluded.  I'd wanted to do this since I was 12, living in the middle of Texas, devoid of swamps and alligators.  I just hadn't expected to visit the swamps of Florida for entirely different reasons.  
    My dad had given me five hundred dollars and told me to be careful and to be back by the time school started.  I wasn't sure of where I was going but by the time I got to about halfway into Florida, the sun just felt really great and a beautiful river flowed underneath a massive bridge that spanned a huge, half dug canal.  I'd spent the night in the nearby town and come back the next morning, asking around for the best place to camp.  My only problem was finding myself a more permanent lodging that would last me a couple of weeks until my trip back home.  I figured I could rent the Airstream with about four hundred dollars of my own money and be all set, but now it seemed as though I wouldn't be sleeping in no air conditioned camper.  
     "So you don't think I could rent this for a couple weeks, do you?" I asked, wanting to hear some good news. 
     "Nope, sorry buddy.  Their scheduled to come in here as soon as tomorrow night and I've got to finish packing up my belongings." A very slight southern drawl accented his speech.  I knew my Texas accent was pretty strong and was hoping he wouldn’t point it out.
     "Any way that I could camp out around here?  Maybe the hunters wouldn't mind so much." 
     "Sorry, I can't do much for you.  I've got to clear out by tonight.  If I could stay and help you out I would, but there's some urgent family needs I gotta attend to.  I can't stay out here and goof around my whole life." He said it with a sad sense of finality, smiled, and started to turn back to his work. 
     "Well, I'll be seeing you around,” I said, wanting to end on a good note, and turned back toward my truck.  
     “Son,” His accented voice pricked up my ears, causing me to stop and listen. “Not sure where you're from, but if you’re running from someone, or something, this ain’t the place to come running to.”
     I frowned at this bit of advice.  He couldn’t know anything about me, not this far south.  Unless he ordered the daily newspaper from the small town of Seymour, Texas.  He continued, his voice a bit softer and kinder than it had been.  
     “Thousands of tourists come through here, just be careful.” He finished, looking as though he wished to keep talking, but closing his mouth and giving an awkward wave of his hand.  
     He had said that he would be moving back to wherever he was from, but the odds of him being from a small Texas town of three thousand people were close to none.  I found my hands shaking a bit at the idea of being found hiding, no, not hiding, fleeing, from my problems.  I could have stayed in Seymour, maybe been given a year or two, and gotten out with the rest of my life ahead of me.  
     My dad had once told me how a friend of his had ran away from home and ended up in Canada living off of the wilderness until he was 18.  This extreme didn’t appeal to me much, but to stay under the radar for a few months was what I wanted.  I could feel anger threatening to jump out of my control, and took a deep breath.  It wasn’t my fault I was put into this position, if that kid hadn’t lied to the cops I would be at home right now, weeks away from graduation and my 19th birthday.  
     I regained control and thanked him for his time.  I turned to leave once more and yanked open the reluctant drivers side door, cranked the engine and pulled away from the campsite, trying to keep from losing my composure.  I had been traveling for almost two days, stopping at rest areas to catch several hours of sleep at a time, and to eat whenever I felt like it.  Which wasn't often. 
     I sped along the single lane country road, the trees encroaching the pavementas sun filtered through the tree limbs.  If it hadn't been so hot and humid, it might have come straight from a child's storybook.  After several minutes of driving, I managed to find my way back to the little four way stop where I'd seen the poster advertising the trailer.  I pulled into the gas station, and headed inside.  I was greeted by a blast of cold air.  The cashier called hello and said she'd be right with me.  I realized I hadn't eaten since the early morning, and picked out a few snacks and a drink.  I had no shortage on funds, my dad having supplied me with almost a thousand dollars in cash before I left.  
     As I paid at the register, I asked the lady where a good spot to camp for a few days might be.
    "My families favorite spot is about fifteen minutes from here.  We go out there a couple weekends a month.  I'll give you directions, if you'd like." 
     Her eyes had lit up when she started talking about camping.  Since she was working all week, her source of joy must have been to get away from everything and be with her family.  She would have only liked a nice and secluded spot so I said yes and tried to keep up with her descriptions of where to turn and how to get through certain swampy areas.  I thought I had the general idea so I thanked her and left, heading east along an old winding road.  One thing I still hadn't gotten used to about Florida, were the giant, moss covered oak trees that seemed to rule many of these country roads.  Hanging less than twenty feet above the road, were massive limbs that appeared to be crawling with great clumps of moss.  I managed to pick up enough speed in the old clunker to get a refreshing breeze running through the windows.  
     I managed to open a bag of Doritos with my teeth and awkwardly funneled them into my mouth.  My one satisfaction with my old truck was the radio.  It wasn't really great, and there wasn't anything special about it.  The fact that the radio actually worked was what made it for me.  I spun the old dial, pushing slightly so the knob wouldn't tumble out of its socket.  I went through several music stations and didn't hear anything I felt like listening to, but stopped when I hit a local news station.  
     I listened for a minute or so, waiting for a live news update.  With the announcers soothing radio voice, came the words I had been dreading.  
     "An 18 year old from Texas, who is running from the authorities has been seen in several rest areas along I-75.  Any information regarding his whereabouts is appreciated.  He is wanted for-"
     I angrily smashed the volume button, switching off the offending voice.  I couldn't believe they weren't letting this go.  This summer wasn't going to be as easy as I had hoped.  

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