by James Holler
John wasn't sure if he had enough daylight to get back to his old camp site, but he was going to try. He needed to be sure to find his way back, so every twenty yards or so, he cut a notch in a tree, on the ocean side. It shouldn't be too hard to find my way back, he thought. With renewed energy, it didn't seem to take very long for him to arrive on the beach.
John had formulated a game plan on the way back. He put his bag down, and started looking for something to mark the area with. He found a large fallen limb, about ten feet long. He placed it in the sand, pointed in the direction of his newly found oasis. On the end closest to the jungle, he placed two shorter limbs about the same diameter as the first. Together, the three pieces of wood made an arrow pointing to where he would be. Anyone should be able to understand what that means, he thought.
Next, he started to gather large limbs and sticks. He made a huge pile of wood, for a signal fire, in case he saw a plane or boat. He wasn't holding out much hope for seeing a plane though. He hadn't seen a jet trail since he had been here.
John was still hungry. He still had a few pieces of mystery fruit, but he wanted to save them if he could. About a quarter of a mile away, was a rocky shallow area that formed an elongated circle, almost like a small lake. With rocks encircling its border, it was almost completely separated from the rest of the ocean. There were some fish out in the middle, but he wasn't confident enough to risk going out there. He wanted some easy pickings.
There were a few small crabs prowling about. He didn't know the first thing about cooking crabs, but he was ready to give it a try. He wrapped several of the crabs in his shirt, for the trip back, as his mouth began to water at the thought of more food.
John walked to his shelter and began to pull the leaves off of the top of it. He gathered the poles, and bunched them up as well as he could. With nothing to tie the ends, they were too difficult to carry all at once, so he tried dragging them. This is too much work, for this late in the day, he thought, dropping them to the ground. He dropped them. I'll come back and get them tomorrow.
Following the notches in the trees was a little harder than he thought it would be. After getting stuck in a couple of places, he finally made it back to the pool of water. As he approached, he noticed something by the edge, on the far side of the pool. There were three small animals, that looked like some sort of tiny deer. As he approached, they looked up at him, but didn't seem to be frightened. After satisfying their curiosity with one look, they went back to drinking.
John's menu choice went from sea food, to red meat. Steak was one of his favorite things to eat. He had no idea if these small animals were good to eat, but he intended to find out. He already had his crude spear in his hand, so he slowly put his bag down. He was experienced at hunting Mule Deer with a bow and arrow, but trying to kill wild game with a sharpened stick was a whole different story.
He took quiet, careful steps, as he eased toward the deer. When they looked up, he stopped. When they resumed drinking, he again moved toward them. As he got closer, he moved more slowly, and more deliberately. He couldn't believe how close he was getting, and it was clear that they didn't fear him. He raised his spear above his shoulder, then paused. They are such amazing little creatures. It's too late in the day to gut an animal and cook it, he thought. He lowered his spear and moved away, just as stealthily as he came. His appreciation of their natural beauty saved their lives.
It's getting late, I better get the fire going. I don't have time to build a shelter, so it will be a long night, John thought. Before he could even begin, there was a loud crack of thunder. He unwrapped the crabs from his shirt. Picking up his pot, he placed the crabs in it. He placed them under a bush and quickly found a leaf large enough to cover the pot.
If it rains very much, it could be a bad night, he thought. Before he could even reach for his bag, large drops started falling, then with no time to prepare, the downpour began. He frantically tried to find his lightweight rain poncho, but it was in his bag, buried under many other things. He and the bag were soaked before he found it. He was just as wet, as if he had been swimming.
John stood there in the pounding rain, holding his plastic poncho. Now what? I'm wet, what good is this going to do me, he thought. "You Son of a Bitches," he yelled, as if he expected someone to hear him. He was already feeling chilled from the rain, as he took the poncho out of its package. He threw it over his bag, then took off his jeans and his boxers. Standing stark naked in the rain, he felt more alone than he had felt in his lifetime. Under these circumstances, his poncho was as good as he could do. It was going to be his shelter for the night. It didn't cover his legs, so he would have to squat, so it could form a tent over him. He was going to be cold, but maybe he would dry out enough to keep from getting hypothermia. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
For what seemed like hours, John squatted beneath a tree. Between the tree, and his cheaply made poncho, they kept most of the rain off of him. With each passing minute though, the cold was getting worse. He had been shivering for a while, but now it was becoming more than he could take.
Knowing he wouldn't make it till morning if he just sat there, he got to his feet. Stiff, and shaking so badly he could barely stand straight, he slowly began walking in the darkness. Back and forth, like a caged animal, he paced fifteen or twenty feet in one direction, then back. Feeling no difference after a few minutes, he started jogging. He slipped in the mud and fell. He wanted to stay face down in the mud and give up, but he didn't. Getting back to his feet, he began doing jumping jacks, then pushups.
With hours left before sunrise, John was on a mission to live to see the next day. He finally noticed that he had stopped shivering. Shortly after the shivering stopped, he felt like he was starting to work up a sweat. Now I can slow down, but I can't stop, he thought. He resumed walking twenty feet at a time, knowing that it would be miles before he could rest.
Feeling thirsty, he felt around in the dark for his pot with the crabs in it. He threw them out and positioned the pot directly below a leaf that was funneling rainwater. After a few minutes of walking, he checked his pot and found a half cup full or so already! He alternated walking and drinking, until finally, night began to slowly give way to day.
John could see well enough now, that he didn't have to worry about getting lost. Starting toward the beach, he was determined not to go through another night like that one. It was still raining just as hard as when it began. He'd forgotten exactly where he'd dropped the poles from his shelter, so he retraced his steps from the day before and finally found them. He put a few under one arm, and the rest under the other. He dragged the trailing end of each bundle on the ground and headed back to his camp. After the night he just had, shelter had jumped to the top of his list of priorities.
It was slow going, trying to get through the thick plant growth. It didn't help that his manhood was hanging in the breeze. Trying to carry the poles, keep from tearing his poncho, and not injure his private parts, wasn't working out too well. He dropped the poles, and rested for a couple of minutes. He took off the poncho and folded it, then placed it on top of a bush, to retrieve later. Now he was completely naked again. He already had several good sized scrapes on his legs and arms. No time to worry about those now, he thought. Gathering his poles, he continued on his way.
As John approached his camp, the rain stopped. Dropping his poles, he walked straight to his pot. It was full to the brim. He drank most of it, but saved a little for later. Looking all around him, he surveyed the area for just the right spot to erect his new shelter. There on the ground, where he'd taken them off, were his clothes. He wrung out as much water as he could, then hung them over several limbs.
After finally settling on a spot, he began to build. This shelter would be much like his first, but built with more incentive for quality. I'm not going to spend another night like last night, he thought.
After what seemed like four or five hours, John had a shelter as good as his last one, but he cont
inued to make improvements. He kept adding and interweaving more leaves. Taking a short break, he drank the last of the water in his pot. He checked his clothes. They were still fairly damp, but not dripping wet like they were. He put on his boxer shorts. Being naked wasn't something that he was comfortable with.
John took a deep breath and went back to work. Gathering more large leaves, he started piling them under his new shelter. He wanted to get off the ground, because the ants and other insects made it hard to sleep at night. Finally he had his bed of leaves finished. Crawling into his shelter, he tried out the feel of his bed. This is nice, he thought. Knowing he couldn't rest yet, he rolled off his bed, then slowly walked around the shelter, inspecting it with a critical eye. After adding still more leaves, he was finally satisfied.
Walking over to where his clothes were hanging, John checked his shirt and pants again. While he slipped his arm into one sleeve of his shirt, he remembered how quickly the rain started yesterday. While they were mostly dry, he wanted to make sure they stayed that way. He took his arm back out of the sleeve, and carried his shirt and jeans to his shelter, placing them on his bed.
If it starts to rain, at least my clothes will be dry, he thought. He retrieved his bag, and placed it near where he planned to have his feet tonight. He felt a sense of relief, because feeling vulnerable was something that he never wanted to experience again. I need to start using my brain. I better go get my poncho, he thought.
He started back toward the beach, to the place where he had left his poncho. Without even pausing, he grabbed it and started back. On the way, he gathered a few bird nests, and callously dumped the eggs on the ground. Tearing them apart, he tried to find as much dry material as he could, to aid in starting a fire later. After all the rain, he knew that it might be a challenge just to get one started this time.
Arriving back in camp, John placed his poncho with his clothes, and then set about trying to catch a familiar source of food. Flipping rocks for crayfish was harder this time. They weren't as easy to find. Maybe the rain has something to do with it, he thought. He worked harder and longer than last time, and only came up with three crayfish, but three would have to do. He would have to dip into his reserve of fruit, which he had been saving.
I'll try the fire starter this time, he thought, as he prepared to start a fire. It was a struggle to keep the fire going once it was started since all of the wood was still wet.
Thinking about the day before, John looked up at the sky, just to get a feel for what the weather was doing. The clouds building overhead made him decide to wait a bit on the fire. He decided to do some exploring while he waited to see if it would rain again. He could see what he thought might be another clearing on the other side of the water pool. Once he broke through the vegetation on the far side, he was able to see that it wasn't just a clearing, but a very large clearing.
Off in the distance, he could see some animals grazing. Even though he wasn't close enough to tell exactly what they were, it looked like there were several dozen of them. From this vantage point, he could see the clouds above much better, and didn't like what he saw. Without wasting any time, he headed back to camp. As he neared the far side of the pool from his camp, a light rain began. He only had his boxers on, but he didn't want to get them wet, so he took them off. Folding them into a tight ball, he then shoved them up into his armpit. He cupped his hand around the bottom side, and tried to protect them from the rain as much as he could.
As soon as John got to his shelter, he headed into it. Now would be the moment of truth. It was still raining very lightly, but so far, so good. There were no leaks that he could see. He put his boxers back on, then his shirt and jeans.
After getting his clothes on, he slipped his poncho over his head. There were still a few hours till dark, so he thought this would be a good chance for him to relax, and take a break from the never ending job of trying to stay alive. I might not have a chance to build a fire today, he thought. His only option for food, without fire, was his stash of fruit. He got a couple out, and cut them into sections with his knife. Hunger was his constant companion now, and this light meal of fruit wasn't going to change that.
Free from thinking about what to do next, John let his mind wonder back to his home in Colorado. He thought about the people back home, and wondered if anyone was missing him yet. Will they form a search party, he wondered. He knew Amy would be upset. He and Amy had been dating for over three years. She came out to his place, which was many miles from town, almost every weekend. He had tried to get her to move in with him, but thought she was holding out for a ring. When I get back, I'm going to ask her to marry me, he thought. His thoughts of home were broken by the sudden sound of heavy rain.
Since his bed would keep him up off of the ground, he would stay dry tonight. Taking his poncho off, and folding it, he got ready to get some sleep. It would be awhile before the sun went down, but he was confident that it would be raining for many more hours. He had been exhausted most of his stay here, but this was the first time he had felt relaxed. Sleep came easily this night.
Hours later, John woke up. The first thing he noticed was the quiet. The rain had stopped. He realized it was lighter than it had been in the nights before. It must be a full moon, he thought. His eyes began searching the sky for it. What he saw overwhelmed his mind, just like it had been when he woke up on the beach that first day. It was a full moon, but it wasn't the moon he knew. This moon was many times larger. It was massive, and lit the jungle up like early morning. It didn't have that man in the moon face either.
Now, his mind was being flooded with more questions. There was one question he kept going back to....Am I going crazy, he wondered. This can't be real, he kept thinking. It suddenly hit him like a death in the family. He hadn't felt like this, since he was a child. Right now, he felt like a child. Why in the hell am I here, he wondered. He wanted to go home, but somehow knew he never would again.
Chapter 2
It's been three months since John woke up, bewildered on the beach. He still wasn't happy about being here, but finally got over being depressed about it. He liked to think of himself as an analytical thinker, and has had plenty of time to think about why he was here. It was obvious to him, that no one on earth would be capable of doing this to him. Whoever put him here wasn't going to dump him here, and never return. They would either come back, or they were able to monitor him. What kept him going now was the hope that they might return.
John's new shelter was a hut. He left his lean-to as it was when he built it. He even built a bed frame in his new hut, so he could get away from those annoying insects on the ground. The first month was the hardest. It rained so often, that it was hard to enjoy a fire, or even start one. At least when it was raining, drinkable water was easy to get. It only rained once in the last week, so he has had time to explore. He has even had time to appreciate the variety of flora and fauna in the area.
He enjoyed feeding the birds in Colorado. The ones he saw now, didn't require feeding, and were incredibly beautiful, compared to the ones back home. While some things were exotic and strange to him, there were a few things that were familiar. There were even some things that seemed strangely out of place.
From experience, John had learned that he should think of getting food early in the day, rather than later. An all-day rain could kill his chance to cook anything. He decided that this morning he was going to try to catch a fish or two.
In his bug out bag, he had a survival fishing kit that contained three hooks, and twenty feet of monofilament line. Everything he had was irreplaceable, so he cut about five feet of line off, leaving the rest for future use. He then tied it securely to a very long limb. The limb was very flexible, but still strong enough that it wouldn't break easily. He tied the hook on using a polymer knot. His dad had taught him how to tie the knot when he was only eight or nine years old.
Insects and grubs were easy to find and they made great fish bait, so John caught about a dozen to start
with. He put a big fat one on his hook, then got into position by a drop-off, in front of some rocks. He took a beetle and threw it into the water. It started wildly thrashing about with its legs. The commotion was the only disturbance on the calm surface of the water. It only took about five seconds until, in a quick splash, a fish took the beetle.
Next, he threw in a grub and watched it sink slowly in the clear water. He saw a fish take it, then swim away. This is what his grandpa called chumming. His grandpa always said, "You give them a free meal, then offer them a meal with a hook in it."
John slowly swung his line out over the water, then gently dropped his baited hook right where the fish had just surfaced. Before it had a chance to even sink a foot, he had a fish on. It was only about eight inches long, but that was the size he was after. He couldn't take a chance with bigger fish, because he didn't want to risk losing his hook.
He took the fish off, then put it on his homemade stringer, which was fashioned from a long thin tree branch, with a fork at the end. By running the limb up through the gill plate, and out through the mouth, he was able to place the fish in the water. He put a heavy rock on the other end of the limb, keeping the fish in the water which allowed it to stay alive until he was ready to eat it.
Picking up his fishing pole, he baited his hook again, dropping his line in the same spot, where he had just caught the fish. Almost immediately, he had another one on. This one was bigger, so rather than trying to get it out quickly, he let it tire itself out, fighting against the limber pole. It was a nice one, over a foot long. The two fish together would be enough for a meal. Gathering his pole and his fish, he headed back to his fire pit. Finding the fishing easy, he wished that he had tried it sooner.
Fish remains attract flies, so John walked about thirty yards away to gut the fish. After gutting them, he took the fish over to the pool of water, and gave them a rinsing to get the blood and what remained of the guts off. The smaller fish would fit in the pan that was part of his cooking kit. The largest of his catch would have to be cooked over the fire. He had done this a few times already, with fish he had speared.
