Don't Look Back (29 page)

Once around the bend that hid my house from the main road, I turned onto a foot path that led into the woods surrounding my house. The trees swayed gently in the cold breeze. I stopped and took off the backpack. Unzipping it, I dug around until I found the gloves stuffed in the bottom. Pleased that I had actually put them in my backpack, I knew the matching knit cap and scarf were in there too. “Yes,” I said in triumph as I found them. After tugging on the gloves, hat and scarf, I hauled the backpack over my shoulders.

“That’s much better.” My breath came out in little puffs as I spoke. Noticing the sun beginning to dip toward the mountain, I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before the night-time freeze set in. Not one to pay much attention to the news, I didn’t know the weather forecast, but the gray clouds didn’t bode well for someone who was going to be outside. And I didn’t know yet where I would spend the night. I figured I had another hour before dark and decided to make the most of it. I pulled my knit cap lower over my ears and headed down the foot path, not sure where I wanted to go.

In the short time we’d lived in our house I’d spent very little time exploring these woods, so it was with some trepidation that I ventured farther down the path. As I walked, I briefly considered turning around and going out to the main road and hitching a ride to town, but then decided I didn’t want to go quite that far from home just yet. Besides, what would I do once I reached town?

Best just to take my chances near home, I thought. That would give me more options. Maybe I’ll just stay away for a few hours. Give my parents a little scare. That will make them appreciate me.

Visualizing the look on Mom’s face when she discovered my disappearance brought a small smile. But when I pictured Dad’s worried expression, my smile faded. Dad wasn’t the mean one—it was just Mom who seemed to pick on me. Dad had always been the nice one. He usually gave me my way. It was Mom who kept me from getting what I wanted.

Deep in thought, at first I didn’t hear the sound of someone approaching. Then I heard someone whistling a tune, as well as what sounded like a dog. Hurrying off the path, I nearly stumbled over a fallen tree branch. I knew most people didn’t put their dogs on leashes when they took them for a walk in these woods and I was afraid the dog would bring his owner right to me. I didn’t want anyone to find me. What good would it do to run away if someone knew where to find me?

I tried to walk quickly into the woods without making too much noise, but then I heard the dog begin to bark. Thick underbrush slowed me down, and I had to keep stepping over fallen branches.

“What is it, Max?” The man called out to his dog.

Stepping behind a wide tree, I carefully peered around to see what the man was going to do about his dog, which had either picked up my scent or heard me tromping through the underbrush. About a hundred feet from where I hid, the dog barked wildly and pranced around in place, clearly wanting permission to go after his find. With the one eye I allowed to be exposed, I saw that the dog was a German Sheppard. Gasping in fear that I would be attacked, I flattened myself against the tree trunk and tried to slow my breathing.

“Max. Calm down, boy. It’s probably just a squirrel. We don’t have time to chase squirrels today. It’s getting near dark and we need to get back.”

The dog continued barking, ignoring his owner.

Daring to peek again, I turned my head ever so slightly so I could see around the trunk. Apparently the dog saw me because his barking became more agitated and he took several steps toward me.

“Come!” the man said.

When I heard the man and his dog leaving, relief flooded me. Not wanting to run into them again, or anyone else for that matter, I decided to avoid the footpath and to venture farther into the woods. Even though my gut told me it was probably not the best idea, I decided to do it anyway.

Feeling clever, I decided to mark my path so I could find my way back when I was ready to come home. I took off my backpack and in a side pocket I pulled out my favorite red lipstick. Frowning, I put it back in, then rummaged around some more and found a fat purple marker.

“Nice.” I’d forgotten that was in there, left over from a school project I had recently done. My English teacher had us create a collage of pictures expressing our interests. I had hunted through Mom’s magazines for just the right pictures. Finally I had found the ones I wanted: a picture of a cute boy, the latest cell phone (of course), a dog that looked similar to mine, a woman sleeping on a comfortable mattress (because I like to sleep), French fries, a certain men’s cologne that I loved to smell on boys, and a few random pictures of make-up to fill in the blank spots. Then right before I’d left for school I’d remembered that I was supposed to write a short poem using my favorite color pen and attach it to the poster board.

I had tossed the pen in my backpack and written the poem before class. The poem wasn’t half bad for being done in such a hurry, although I admit it was a little challenging to write it with such a fat pen. Oh well, you can’t have everything.

Now I took the lid off the pen and smiled. I backed up a few steps to make sure I could see the path from where I stood and then dragged the pen across the smooth tree trunk, leaving a wide purple streak that I would be able to see when I came back, but no one on the path would be able to see.

Pleased with my resourcefulness, I continued into the woods another twenty feet or so and made a mark on another tree. I kept going like this, marking trees as often as necessary, until I had gone quite a ways into the woods. After about half an hour I stopped, noticing how dark it was getting. And then I realized that I had been so focused on marking the trees that I hadn’t really paid attention to where I was going.

The chill in the air began to feel like small bugs biting my cheeks and I wondered if it was possible for me to freeze to death. Suddenly home sounded like a good place to be and running away didn’t seem like such a smart idea. I turned around to go back the way I had come, but then realized I couldn’t see my pen marks on the trees in the mounting darkness, and if I just started walking I risked becoming completely lost.

A sudden feeling of panic crept up my throat and I found it hard to breathe. Turning in slow circles, squinting into the dark, I wasn’t sure which way to go. I thought I had planned so well, but I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I whispered. A distant howl made me scream and I slapped my hand over my mouth, not wanting to draw the creature to me. I looked up at the sky, as if doing so would make the sun appear. The gray clouds briefly parted and the moon shone, dimly lighting the area. Taking advantage of the faint light, my gaze darted around.

Nothing promising in view. I took several steps in one direction, then in another, fearful that the moon would be covered in clouds at any moment, extinguishing my only source of light.

Forcing myself to calm down, I concentrated on thoroughly studying each direction. After a moment I thought I saw something. Peering more intently into the dark, I smiled.

Yes.

A small structure stood a short distance away.

Chapter Two

Hurrying toward it as best I could among the bushes and fallen tree limbs, I reached it just as the moon hid behind the clouds. Gentle snowflakes settled on my cheeks and I felt doubly glad that I had found this tiny hut.

I knocked on the wooden door, not wanting to walk in if someone was home, although the place looked abandoned. I waited a moment and when there was no reply I knocked again, this time using my fist.

Still no response.

“I guess no one’s home,” I muttered.

The snow flurries thickened as my hand grasped the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

Despite my jacket and gloves, I began to shiver. Perhaps it was more from fear than from cold, but whatever the reason, my words came out in a stutter. “Who would lock the door out here in the middle of nowhere?”

I walked around the small building, examining the structure. The hut was a square, each of the wooden walls about ten feet long. There was no other entrance and the only windows were tiny ones on either side of the front door—too small for me to crawl through. Then I considered breaking the glass so I could reach in and unlock the door, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to reach the lock. Besides, if the window was broken, cold air would come in.

Using all of my strength, I grasped the door knob and shoved my shoulder against the door. After several tries the door burst inward. Quickly closing the door behind me, I grimaced as I realized the space offered little warmth.

Peering into the complete darkness, I inched forward, but after only a few steps I bumped into a table. A table with nothing on it. I decided to explore the room as best as I could, not being able to see anything. As I moved toward the nearest wall with my hands outstretched, I stopped, frowning, remembering when I was little and I’d walk around with my eyes closed, just for fun, to see if I could find my way. But this was no child’s game and I didn’t know what dangers might be lurking. The thought made me pause and I had to swallow my fear and force myself to keep going. As a precaution, I left my gloves on.

Holding my hands out in front of me, I shuffled forward, wanting to avoid tripping over some unseen hazard. After a few steps my hands touched the wall. Flattening my gloved hands against the hard surface, I explored the wall but found nothing but the wall. Sliding my feet slowly to my left, I continued to explore.

After a moment I reached the place where two walls met. Something thin and wispy tickled my cheek and I screamed, then pushed away the cobwebs. The idea of a big hairy spider watching me, or worse yet, getting tangled in my hair, made me shudder. I patted my head to make sure my knit hat was still in place and adjusted my scarf to cover most of my face. Feeling more secure, I continued my blind search.

As I shifted to the new wall, the surface felt different. Hard bumps stuck out in places and I realized they were handles for cabinets and drawers. Though hope blossomed inside me that I might find something I could use, the idea of sticking my hand into a dark cavern sent a new spasm of shudders racing through me.

After a moment I gathered my courage and pulled open the first cabinet. Cautiously, I lifted my hand toward the opening, then centimeter by centimeter I reached inside, expecting at any moment to have my gloved hand pierced by the fangs of some hideous creature. When all my hand found was empty air, my bravery increased and I moved my hand around more confidently, verifying that the space was bare.  

When I opened the next cupboard I wasn’t quite as nervous and reached inside with more sureness, but when my hand bumped against something, I was so startled that I jumped backward and nearly fell. With adrenaline pounding through my veins, I froze, waiting to see what would happen next. When nothing jumped out and attacked me, I decided to figure out what it was I had touched. This time I reached inside with both hands and immediately felt the hard object. The sides felt smooth and the top was curved, but when I discovered a handle hanging against the side, my hopes rose.

I pulled the object out of the cupboard and turned toward the meager light coming in from the small windows on either side of the front door and confirmed my suspicions.

“Yes,” I whispered. “A lantern.”

Next, I needed to find some matches. I set the lantern on the table and turned back to the wall of cabinets and drawers. Handles along the drawer fronts made the drawers easy to pull open. Removing my gloves to better feel, I reached toward the open drawer. Fearing spiders might be hiding inside, I stopped and leaned down, then blew a puff of air into the open drawer, hoping to scare off any insects. A cloud of dust went up my nose and I coughed. Pointing one finger downward into the drawer, I quickly touched the bottom of the drawer before pulling my hand back. Nothing bit me so I reached my whole hand inside and felt around. Small, hard pellets were sprinkled in the bottom.

“Eww, mouse droppings.”

Swallowing my disgust, I ventured farther. Cobwebs caught in my fingers and I had to force myself to keep exploring. My fingers reached all the way to the back, but found nothing. I pulled open the second drawer and carefully explored it. Just as I was about to give up I felt a small box. I lifted it out and held it close to my face. Matches! A smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I slid the box open and pulled out a tiny stick.

I brushed the match against the rough side of the box and was rewarded by a bright flame. Carrying the burning match to the table, I used it to help me examine the lantern. It looked like it was in good shape, although it was coated with a thick layer of dust. I was suddenly grateful for the many times the power had gone out and Dad had made me learn how to light the lantern.

The match burned out and I picked up the lantern

First, I gently shook it and heard liquid sloshing around, confirming the presence of fuel. Then I pumped the knob to force the gas to fill the line. Last, I lit another match and inserted it through the small opening at the base of the glass, lighting the fragile mantle that hung inside. It caught and I withdrew the match before blowing it out. Then I turned the knob on the lantern to release more gas, brightening the flame.

Calmness washed over me as darkness fled. I lifted the lantern by the handle and explored the room. It was a little smaller than my bedroom, but less cluttered. Along one wall were the cabinets, where I had found the lantern and matches. In a corner sat a rocking chair that looked like it had seen better days. Against the opposite wall sat a bare cot. But the item that made me close my eyes in anticipation was the wood burning stove squatting on the floor in the far corner.

Carrying the box of matches with me, I walked to the stove, set the lantern on the floor and pulled on the cast iron door. The hinges creaked and I frowned when I saw nothing but a few cold ashes scattered at the bottom of the stove. I looked on the far side of the stove and smiled when I saw a small stack of wood in a neat pile. Old newspapers lay next to the wood.