I roamed for weeks, begging for food or money and sleeping in the open. The full bloom of summer made my nights more comfortable as did the knit poncho someone had given me. Yet, each sunrise brought less light to my life. How could I keep going like this? I wanted a bed, a shower, and a real meal. More than that, I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I wanted a friend. A kind soul to shelter me from the reality of the scary world I lived in.
Distracted by self-pity, I took a drink from my canteen, stood, and started walking again, paying little attention to the road. I didn’t need to. It was the same with every town. I drifted in, stayed a day—any more than that drew attention to my begging—and drifted out after buying some food. Then, I walked until I came to the next town. Sometimes, it was the same day. Sometimes, it took more than a day. I figured it didn’t really matter as long as I kept moving.
Hours later, the pavement ended and turned into a narrow dirt road. I kept walking. It wasn’t until the sun kissed the treetops that I really looked around. There was nothing but trees and the dirt road on which I stood. No, not true.
A sign stood sentinel in the overgrown ditch. I stared at it, not reading the words but focusing on the numbers. Over one hundred miles separated me from the next town. I turned around and looked back the way I’d come. Nothing but the narrow road and trees. How long had I been walking? How many nights had I slept against a tree?
The leaves rustled in the light breeze as I stood there trying to decide what to do. I didn’t have much food left. The container of water I’d refilled yesterday at a creek beside the road was still fine, though.
With a tired sigh, I kept walking.
Just before dark, I spotted a trail that led away from the road. Waist-high grass covered the breadth of the path. No trees obstructed it, however, and I wondered if it was an old logging trail. Nothing about it seemed welcoming. In fact, dusk had already sent most of the track into shadow. Yet, for some reason, I felt compelled to walk the lane as if the universe were again answering my “what next?” question.
I started forward, parting the grass. The trail seemed never ending, and as I walked, night claimed the sky. Only the soft glow of the moon kept me from wandering around lost.
The trees ended abruptly and revealed a large clearing with several buildings. Excitement and relief filled me. Finally, a bed. Then, as I studied the dark and quiet structures, a sense of abandonment touched me. Moonlight glinted off the broken glass in a few of the windows. Weeds crowded against the walls and surrounded the stubby porch.
The buildings were alone and forgotten, but it didn’t matter. The largest of them appeared to have a solid roof, and that was more than I’d had in weeks.
I waded through the grass and stepped up onto the sagging porch. Thankfully, the boards held my weight. I reached out and pulled the latch on the large door. The panel quietly swung open, and the scents of must and dust drifted out. An abyss waited just inside.
I eased the backpack from my shoulders, and from an outside compartment, I withdrew a lighter. It sparked to life on the first strike and created a pocket of light. It was bright enough to see my way as I stepped over the threshold into a large, empty room.
Weathered boards lined the floor and made up the walls. In a straight horizontal line, a few rusty nails poked from the boards near the door. An obvious place to hang coats. I slowly made my way into the interior, swinging the lighter back and forth to see.
On the far side of the room, I found a hallway. I wandered down its length and watched the spiderwebs that clogged the ceiling disappear as my flame neared.
When I came to a partially closed door, I paused to nudge it open with my foot. It was just an empty room with a broken window. I moved on until I found another door. Each room I found equally disappointed me. There was never a bed, just broken glass and leaves that mingled with the dust on the floors. Yet, the number of rooms amazed me.
When I found a set of stairs, I carefully ascended and continued to check doors until I found a room that still had a whole window. The window afforded a view of the moonlit clearing. The weak light through the window was enough to see by, so I extinguished the lighter and closed the door.
Exhausted from a day of walking, I was ready to sleep, even without the bed I’d hoped for. Using my bag as a pillow, I made myself comfortable on the floor. As I lay in the moonlight, I wondered what I’d found here. Based on what I’d seen outside, the buildings were definitely not new. Yet, they weren’t falling apart either. There were so many rooms, all of varying sizes. I wondered if perhaps this was an old commune or something.
I exhaled slowly and shut my eyes, listening to the night sounds. It didn’t take me long to drift off, but I woke often since the hard floor was more uncomfortable than the ground.
By morning light, I stood with a slow stretch. My spine cracked in several spots, and I felt sore.
Shouldering my pack, I began exploring the rest of the building. The empty rooms seemed never ending. Then, I came to a set of heavy double doors.
I pushed them open and stared at the enormous space I’d discovered. Two old stone fireplaces, blackened by soot and age, were the room’s source of heat. I frowned, thinking back to the rooms I’d checked, and couldn’t recall one outlet or heating vent. How had the people who lived here kept warm in winter?
Along the interior wall to the left of the main doors, a rough counter set with a small stone trough and an old hand pump gave me a good indication of the lifestyle of those who’d once lived here. I stepped into the room and pushed the doors closed behind me. There weren’t as many cobwebs in this room, but just as many leaves littered the floor near the room’s broken window.
I walked over to the pump and started pumping. A loud, metallic groan filled the air; and though I cringed at the noise, I didn’t stop. My arm grew tired by the time any water came out. It ran brown at first, then clear. I scooped a handful and sniffed it. It smelled fine and was cold in my palm. I tried a bit and smiled at the fresh, crisp taste.
As I pulled the water container from my backpack, I heard a distant howl. The sound didn’t scare me. I rather liked it. It meant I wasn’t alone.
I set the container in the sunken trough and started pumping again. Water splashed the top of it, almost knocking it over. I kept the handle moving with one hand and held the container steady with the other. It took a few minutes, but I filled it.
After the handle fell for the last time and the water stopped splashing, I thought I heard something. As I quietly capped the container and slid it into my pack, I listened. Slight noises reached me. Nothing definite. It could have been the building settling; or because of the racket of the pump, I might have drawn the curious attention of whatever had howled.
It didn’t overly concern me. Animals were generally cautious around humans. I slipped my arms through the straps of the backpack.
A noise came from the other side of the double doors. I froze. Perhaps it was a wild critter looking for a nice place to stay, just as I had.
I crossed the large area and pulled the latch of another door I had yet to explore. Sunlight poured through the opening. I stepped outside, gladly leaving whatever it was to roam as it might. The latch fell into place; and a moment later, a loud thud echoed in the empty room. My eyes widened, and I started to back away.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the faint sound of snuffling carried through the broken window. Something bumped against the other side of the door. I jumped. What was in there? It didn’t sound like a little critter. It sounded big.
A howl filled the air.
Dear God. A coyote or wolf.
I turned and ran.
Glass shattered behind me. I didn’t glance back but pushed myself hard. It didn’t matter. I’d only made it halfway to the path when something struck me from behind. It was solid and heavy and brought me to the ground.
Dry grass and dirt abraded my cheek, and my breath left me at the sudden impact. I tried to get to my hands and knees, but something weighted me down. A growl filled my ear, stopping my attempt. I brought my arms up to cover my head.
The weight on me shifted as another growl, not far away, joined the first. Two of them? I’d been so worried about people discovering me that I’d never thought to worry about animals. They weren’t supposed to act like this. I’d been sleeping under the stars undisturbed for weeks.
The sound of their snarls escalated. Taking a risk, I lifted my head for a peek while I remained cowered on the ground. I saw a furred leg. I shifted a little further, and a large furry head came into view.
One of the creatures stood above me, long legs boxing me in, as another one stalked it, just ten feet away. I lifted my head further, catching the attention of the one circling. Its gaze met mine briefly, and I trembled. Of all the ways I imagined my life ending when I left home, I’d never considered death by wolf attack.
I moved slightly, trying to position myself so I could spring to my feet and run if the opportunity presented itself. My backpack bumped against the beast above me and distracted it. The newcomer lunged forward. The two clashed together, forelegs locked and mouths open. One of them stepped on my lower back, its claws digging through my shirt. As soon as the paw moved, I scrambled away.
Neither noticed me as I struggled to my knees and then my feet. I darted toward the trees, determined to climb one.