Awake Asleep Dreaming Dead (21 page)

This was Sam’s ultra-marathon. He was a competitor in a race for one-legged broken-down contestants. He was stretching the strength he had left, finding the will to win, and the prize was life, and a future with Esther.

One more drink, he said, then he put the bottle in the make-shift case strapped to his leg.

He pulled and pushed with his good leg, inching his way to the stump above, gripping the rope, lugging and grunting. Electric impulses of pain blasted through his leg.

It’s heavy, feels like my skin and muscle are being ripped off my leg. I wish I had something to kill the pain, he mumbled. My leg is exploding.

Sam grabbed the rope with both hands, and scraped at the hillside with his good leg. He rammed his foot into the ground, digging, digging, and digging in the dirt like a scoop shovel. I can do this. I can . . . do this!

Catching his breath while trying to get a foothold, he took a short break. He held the rope in his raw, worn hands, and relaxed when he knew he was safe. He rested his head on the ground, the rope still in his hands, and closed his eyes.

Sam opened his eyes after hearing a fly buzzing around his head. Any other time he would have swatted it away, but he was alone and didn’t mind having a fly for company. He watched it prance up and down his arm. Its thin little legs tickled as it crawled down his hand, then it turned around, and flew away. It came back a number of times. Any sensation is better than pain, Sam whispered. How are you today, Mr. Fly? What are you thinking about? I’m climbing up the hill now, and you’re welcome to tag along, or meet me up there at the stump. Sam moved his hand, the fly disappeared. Well, if you change your mind, see you at the stump.

Sam made his way up the side of the hill, then thought, The fly probably likes the smell of my blood. Maybe he’ll bring his friends along, and they’ll have a feast. Hordes of them will come, and suck every drop of blood out of my leg. I’m losing my . . . mind. My leg’s stiff as a board, but I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it.

Sam inched his way up the hill.

I’m getting out of here, he mumbled.

He was stressed, and winced with every pull. The pain kept him going, comfort came knowing that if he could make it to the top, and find help, he’d get home.

Of course what’ll happen if I don’t make it crossed his mind. What’s the local paper going to say about me? What are people going to say? How will they describe my last moments clawing up the hill? Or the reason for the accident? Maybe I should leave a message. Write down my last words. Hell, can’t do that; haven’t got a pencil. What’s going to happen in the end? Will I float out of my body, and watch my own funeral? Stop thinking about dying, he yelled. Boy, that hill looks high and steep.

He turned to the echo of a shadow voice reverberating and repeating what he had just said. It resonated in the trees, was clear, and boomed to someone watching out in the distance. Sam scanned the valley, focusing on his wrecked car below, and the random chrome pieces shimmering in the sunlight. His eyelids flickered, it was light, dark, then bright.

I’m getting out, he yelled. Going up!

After the discharge of defiance Sam lost his grip on the rope, and slid down to where he had started. When he tried to stop, his leg in the makeshift splint twisted under his body.

Damn it!

The anguish echoed through the trees, and through the valley.

Man, you’d think someone would have heard that scream?

Then it was quiet again. He heard the breeze rustle the leaves, then a fly buzzed by and landed on the rope. His heart beat faster, and his breathing was hard.

Are you the same one that was here before? Sam asked. Probably not, he mumbled, and picked up some dirt, tossed it on the rope where the fly sat. It vanished.

Sam made it back up to the spot where he had slipped. While he rested another fly landed on the rope, then buzzed around his head. Under the sunlight it glowed like a diamond. What should I call you? Sam asked. You look like a flickering diamond. There are lot’s of diamonds in jewelry stores. I’ll call you the Jewelry Store Fly. Sam began to make-up a poem about the fly. Delirium was setting in.

This day is hot!

Heat from the sun

Penetrates its body

The jewelry store catches its eye

Every jewelry store

Catches its eye

You might say—

He’s a jewelry store fly

Up to the window he goes

Looking at everything that glows

Long, long, long, long, long, long

Everything shimmers and shines

Diamonds and gold, rings and watches

Hands go round and round

Time ticking away on the face

Number by number, count the days

Long, long, long, long, long, long

It all shimmers and shines

Glass in the display, ice on a hot day

Black stones, green rocks, red gems

Silver chains, looking for treasure

This is what the fly does

Travels from shop to shop

Like a farmer checking a crop

Step by step, window by window

In displays appear—

Jewelry you can wear

On your hands and feet

Through the nose or ear

Around the neck

Chain link gold, a ton is sold

New design under foot for his eye alone

Color and tone, twinkling shone

A circle in the middle of a square

Rising up from the ground

Under his shoe it went

Eyes scanning people

A beam of light bent

Rainbows of color

Spawn reflections

Dent ripples of water

The edge of the shore

Keyhole and a seam of light

Catches dust from under the door

Hanging in the air

A floating candle flare

Burning so bright

Long, long, long, long, long, long

Waited to find this jewel

And there it was

Right under his shoe

Hands over face

Breathing room at last

Tomorrow search again

For a new prize never seen

More real than known

A wish, hope, and a new dream

I should have written that down, but how? I don’t have a pencil. How will I ever remember it? I won’t be able to.

The fly came back again and again. What do you want from me? Sam shouted, and it flew away, but it just kept coming back.

I’m dying here, Sam thought. This is it. I’m going to rot here on the side of this hill alone. I’ll take my last breath of air, close my eyes, and release my spirit. After my heart stops beating, animals will eat the flesh off my bones, the crows will clean them, then the flies and maggots will return my carcass to the earth.

Sam looked over the hillside, and saw beauty no one else could. Can I give all of this up for the unknown? he thought. No! Can’t give in, can’t give up, can’t give in. And repeated the saying, What doesn’t kill me . . . shit! he yelled, and couldn’t finish the second half of it. I’m tired, and going to die here.

A sparrow landed on a nearby branch and began singing a sweet melody.

Hi Bird, Sam said, and whistled back.

This went on for a while, the bird singing, and Sam answering.

What should I call you, Sam said. Have you met the Jewelry Store Fly? You look like the bird in the movie about the bird man, Don Stroud. I think I’ll call you, Alcatraz.

The bird continued singing while moving from branch to branch, higher and higher, then flew away. Sam watched Alcatraz vanish into the clouds.

It must be fantastic to fly. To open your wings any time, and glide up and over the earth. Maybe I should have tied a message to its leg—probably a slim chance anyone would get it, though.

Sam looked down at his leg because he felt the pain coming back.

Maybe that’s a good sign, and moaned. Time to get moving.

He pulled his broken body up the rope, his voice straining, his arms fatigued.

Well, at least I’m making progress, slow but sure.

Above was Sam’s next target, a big flat horizontal rock.

If I can just make it up to that rock, I’d be a fourth of the way up.

He focused on the stone, alternating one hand over the other.

Pull, he grunted. Is this my last burst of energy? My last wind. Will I fall back down? I hope not.

Then Alcatraz landed on the stone, sat there a moment, and began singing a melody again. It sounded like the bird wanted Sam to keep climbing, encouraging him, so he did.

As he edged closer, said, Hey, buddy, keep singing for me. Glad to see you again. It’s nice to have the company. Just stay there, and wait for me, okay.

A couple of pulls of the rope, and with newfound energy he yelled. I’m going to make it, he yelled. I’m going to get there, and started singing a marching song from boot camp. It was about a bird. First he hummed it, then the words came out.

A yellow bird, 2-3-4, with a yellow bill, 2-3-4, landed on, 2-3-4, my window sill, 2-3-4, I lured it in, 2-3-4, with crumbs of bread, 2-3-4, and then I kissed it, 2-3-4, on the head.

Almost there . . . Sam said, and let out a gasp as his hands scratched at the rock.

He muscled his body over the edge, up on the rock, then collapsed short of breath, his heart still beating like a race horse rounding the last leg.

Is this how horses feel, I wonder? I can’t lift a finger, or move a muscle.

Sam closed his eyes, and passed out with his face flat on the rock, drool falling from the corner of his mouth.

When Sam opened his eyes he was surprised to see Alcatraz perched on the rock. The bird was hammering way at something on the stone with its beak.

What’s that?

As he watched, he realized it was a piece of worm.

I’d have to be pretty hungry to eat a worm, Sam said. His lips tightened. Of course I’m hungry. So hungry I could eat anything. Maybe—even—a worm.

Then Alcatraz flew off, and returned a short time later with another worm.

You want me to eat that? Sam said, as his stomach growled. How bad can it be? he mumbled. Any nourishment is better than nothing. Like getting an acquired taste, the more you eat it, the more you like it.

Sam reached out with his hand and grabbed the worm. Alcatraz fluttered a little, but kept his ground. His hand moved slowly, then he picked it up. The worm wiggled between his thumb and index finger. It was slimy and tried to slither away, but he squeezed firmly.

Better not to think about it too much, and just get it over with. Who knows, it might not be all bad. Sam closed his eyes, put the worm in his mouth, and chewed.

He gagged, then took a swig of water.

Oh, man, that’s awful, he said, and swished the water around in his mouth. Alcatraz flew away, and returned with more worms. Sam went through the same ritual, gagging, swishing the water, and swallowing the worm.

A man will do anything if he’s hungry enough, he said, then passed out.

Sam woke parched with rills of sweat running down his face.

Man, it’s getting hot!

He turned toward the hill measuring the distance that he still had to go looking for a path, trail, or any possible way for a guy in his current state to make it to the top.

This part coming up is steeper than what I’ve just climbed. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of energy. I’ve got to rest before I try.

Sam took out the water bottle, and checked what he had left.

I have to save the rest of the water for the climb.

He put it back into his makeshift bag as a snake slithered passed. Startled a moment, his first reaction was to hit or kick it away, but he realized there was no danger. He watched it vanish into the hillside. Maybe the snake will bring me something to eat, Sam mumbled, and closed his eyes. Maybe I could eat the snake, but I’d never be able to catch it, then his mind floated into spinning images and noise.

Sam, flat on his back, looked up at the sun high in the sky, his leg sent throbbing signals all the way to the top of his head. He squinted to block the light, then turned on his side where ants were carrying huge dead flies and other bugs. Some had granules of dirt, pieces of leaves, and sticks for building their home. For Sam this was entertainment.

A live show. Nature’s theater, and free, no need to buy any tickets.

Which one of you is the leader? Sam asked. I’ll bet it’s you, the one standing in place like a composer leading an orchestra.

He seems to be signaling the other ants in some way. I could destroy everything you’ve built so far. As weak as I am, with one swoop, it would all be flattened. The world is cruel, the world is hard, and like my accident a big hand lunged out of nowhere, knocked my car over, and crushed me. People are just like the ants in this world. I’ve rested enough, and got to make for the next target.

Sam scanned the hillside looking for the next place to land. He looked for something he could lasso with the rope, but it was bare.

That scrawny branch looks like my only choice. One small tree growing out of the hillside. It looks weak, and maybe not strong enough to hold me. there’s no other choice. That branch is going help me make it to the top or stop me from getting there.

He took the rope and went through the same routine as before, rolling it up, then throwing it over his head, hoping to snag the branch. He tried over and over with no luck. It wasn’t happening this time. What’s wrong? Why can’t I get this rope around it?

He threw the rope, and watched it fall back down, again and again. The sun was getting low in the sky, and he was running out of time.

I’m going to have to sleep here tonight if I don’t lasso that tree, he thought.

Exhausted, frustrated, and Mother Nature calling.

This is going to be hard taking a dump lying on my side. How am I going to do this? Do it now or live with it later.

Sam pulled his pants down as far as he could.

I’m glad no one’s watching this. He felt movement and relief at the same time.

He tore off a bit of cloth from his shirt to wipe himself, then pulled his pants up. I’m definitely not staying here tonight, He took the rope and tossed it, and like before tugged on it.