A World Without Heroes
Page 8
Resting his head on folded arms, Jason clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. He found that by scooping leaves around himself, curling up, and holding still, he eventually felt a little warmer.
Could he really have crossed over to some other reality? The thought made him shiver. How would he get home? He had seen no evidence of a way back at the tree where he had emerged. No shimmering portal to his home dimension. Where would he begin to look for a way back? What if there was no way back? Had this ever happened to anyone before?
Jason pulled out his cell phone. The glow of the display illuminated the dark bush. Apparently, the phone had survived the wetness of the hippo tank. He was unsurprised to find the phone could not get service. There would be no dialing home. He had one unopened text message. It would be from his mom, probably reprimanding him. He opened the message.
Please answer your phone. Even if you choose to disrespect my opinions, I still love you.
Tears sprang to his eyes. She had it wrong! He just didn’t want her trying to control his study schedule.
Earlier today he had let slip that he had a biology test coming up, along with an English project. His mom and dad knew little about his study habits, largely because he routinely brought home really good grades, so they didn’t have much to worry about. But every now and then, seemingly at random, his mom decided to play at parenting. She had told him he shouldn’t go to the batting cages if he had homework to do. He tried to explain that he had a plan for getting everything done, but she had insisted firmly. So he had just left, biking to the batting cages despite her protests, heedless of the punishments that might follow.
Why was he so stubborn? She had tried to call him, and he hadn’t picked up. Would that be how she remembered him? An ungrateful, disobedient jerk? His insides seemed to shrink at the thought. Would this brief message be the last he ever heard from his family?
Jason felt the frustration and fear well up inside him, and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. He gazed around at the empty forest, wanting to scream, to hit something. How could he really be stuck here, in the middle of this insane place, so far from everyone he knew?
Jason thought about his dog, Shadow, a three-year-old Labrador. Who would feed him? Walk him? Who would throw around one of the tattered old tennis balls with him? His parents had never wanted a dog. To get him, Jason had promised to take responsibility for all of his needs. Jason had trained him, and had paid for the sofa he chewed up by mowing lawns and washing cars. Jason devoutly cleaned up after Shadow, bathed him, played with him, and roamed the woods with him. He doubted whether his parents knew how much Shadow ate, where he liked to be scratched, or even where to find his leash. If Jason never found his way home, Shadow might suffer more than anyone!
“Hello!” he called out, knowing it was pointless. “I want to go home! Hello! Hello?” He blinked back his tears, trying to get his emotions under control. None of this made any sense, but he had to calm down; he had to figure this out if he ever wanted to see his friends again, his parents, his family.
After taking a deep breath, Jason scrolled through his other messages. There were only five. Four of them were brief, stupid exchanges with Matt. One was from Tim, inviting him to the batting cages. Jason was pretty good about deleting his messages. Now he wished he had more to read. The battery was running low, so he read the message from his mom one last time and then shut off the phone.
Jason closed his eyes. He needed to rest. Hopefully, a new day and a refreshed brain would give him a better perspective.
Back home when he couldn’t sleep, he would lie in bed waiting for patterns to appear on the glowing face of his digital clock, including such exciting milestones as 11:11, 11:22, 11:24, 12:12 , 12:21, and his personal favorites, 12:34 and 12:48. Here he listened to night sounds: the sporadic hooting of owls, the occasional fluttering of wings or rustling of leaves, the scraping and squeaking of insects. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Just when he was beginning to worry he would never fall asleep …
. . . he awoke with sunlight filtering through the trees. He blinked, his head swirling with confusion at his surroundings. Immediately all of the events of the day before rushed back to him, and a heavy weight pressed down on his chest. He had secretly hoped to awaken in a hospital bed back in Vista. Could people fall asleep in a dream, then reawaken with the dream still in progress?
Jason sat up, noticing that his coveralls remained slightly damp. In the light of day he could see that some of the surrounding trees wore a rich purple moss sprinkled with tiny white flowers. A nearby shrub had long, corkscrewing leaves. The clues were subtle, but he was definitely nowhere near Vista, Colorado. An innate sense screamed that he was far from his home, far from his proper place. In fact, judging from the clothes the people at the waterfall had been wearing, he might not even be in his proper time.
Stiff muscles protested as Jason stood. He rubbed at his side where a rock had jabbed him all night. A muscle behind his right shoulder felt particularly sore. He realized it was probably the result of hauling back that bowstring the night before.
Jason sighed. With the surrounding trees obscuring his view, he had little sense of direction. A tiny yellow bird with black markings twittered on a branch. A small fan of feathers frilled the back of its head. More than most people, Jason had always paid particular attention to animals, but this was not a species he recognized.
Hands on his hips, Jason weighed his options. Wherever he was, dying of exposure in the wilderness seemed like a real possibility if he didn’t take action. Considering all the people he had seen at the waterfall, he concluded that there must be a town in the vicinity.
With a gnawing hunger growing, he struck off toward the rising sun. He soon came upon a brook narrow enough to jump across. He figured if he wanted, he could follow the brook downstream to the river. The crowd should have dispersed by now.
He crouched beside a place where the water splashed off a little stone shelf. The water looked clean, but he resisted the urge to drink, in case it would make him sick.
He decided to follow the brook. Then if he started dying of thirst, he could always risk waterborne bacteria in order to preserve his life. But he would head upstream first, since the river had been bad luck.
Jason did not travel far before arriving at a pool from which the brook originated. Surveying the area, he was startled to spot a huge building through the trees, constructed entirely of speckled granite. A frieze depicting men at war surrounded the top of the building—foot soldiers armed with spears and shields confronted armored warriors in chariots. Windowless walls of snugly joined blocks hid behind numerous grooved columns. A series of broad stone steps flanked by massive stone figures granted access to a brass door recessed in an arched alcove. The overall effect was that of a fancy museum. Except that the immense structure stood in the middle of a forest without a discernible road or path to grant access.
Could he really have crossed over to some other reality? The thought made him shiver. How would he get home? He had seen no evidence of a way back at the tree where he had emerged. No shimmering portal to his home dimension. Where would he begin to look for a way back? What if there was no way back? Had this ever happened to anyone before?
Jason pulled out his cell phone. The glow of the display illuminated the dark bush. Apparently, the phone had survived the wetness of the hippo tank. He was unsurprised to find the phone could not get service. There would be no dialing home. He had one unopened text message. It would be from his mom, probably reprimanding him. He opened the message.
Please answer your phone. Even if you choose to disrespect my opinions, I still love you.
Tears sprang to his eyes. She had it wrong! He just didn’t want her trying to control his study schedule.
Earlier today he had let slip that he had a biology test coming up, along with an English project. His mom and dad knew little about his study habits, largely because he routinely brought home really good grades, so they didn’t have much to worry about. But every now and then, seemingly at random, his mom decided to play at parenting. She had told him he shouldn’t go to the batting cages if he had homework to do. He tried to explain that he had a plan for getting everything done, but she had insisted firmly. So he had just left, biking to the batting cages despite her protests, heedless of the punishments that might follow.
Why was he so stubborn? She had tried to call him, and he hadn’t picked up. Would that be how she remembered him? An ungrateful, disobedient jerk? His insides seemed to shrink at the thought. Would this brief message be the last he ever heard from his family?
Jason felt the frustration and fear well up inside him, and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. He gazed around at the empty forest, wanting to scream, to hit something. How could he really be stuck here, in the middle of this insane place, so far from everyone he knew?
Jason thought about his dog, Shadow, a three-year-old Labrador. Who would feed him? Walk him? Who would throw around one of the tattered old tennis balls with him? His parents had never wanted a dog. To get him, Jason had promised to take responsibility for all of his needs. Jason had trained him, and had paid for the sofa he chewed up by mowing lawns and washing cars. Jason devoutly cleaned up after Shadow, bathed him, played with him, and roamed the woods with him. He doubted whether his parents knew how much Shadow ate, where he liked to be scratched, or even where to find his leash. If Jason never found his way home, Shadow might suffer more than anyone!
“Hello!” he called out, knowing it was pointless. “I want to go home! Hello! Hello?” He blinked back his tears, trying to get his emotions under control. None of this made any sense, but he had to calm down; he had to figure this out if he ever wanted to see his friends again, his parents, his family.
After taking a deep breath, Jason scrolled through his other messages. There were only five. Four of them were brief, stupid exchanges with Matt. One was from Tim, inviting him to the batting cages. Jason was pretty good about deleting his messages. Now he wished he had more to read. The battery was running low, so he read the message from his mom one last time and then shut off the phone.
Jason closed his eyes. He needed to rest. Hopefully, a new day and a refreshed brain would give him a better perspective.
Back home when he couldn’t sleep, he would lie in bed waiting for patterns to appear on the glowing face of his digital clock, including such exciting milestones as 11:11, 11:22, 11:24, 12:12 , 12:21, and his personal favorites, 12:34 and 12:48. Here he listened to night sounds: the sporadic hooting of owls, the occasional fluttering of wings or rustling of leaves, the scraping and squeaking of insects. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Just when he was beginning to worry he would never fall asleep …
. . . he awoke with sunlight filtering through the trees. He blinked, his head swirling with confusion at his surroundings. Immediately all of the events of the day before rushed back to him, and a heavy weight pressed down on his chest. He had secretly hoped to awaken in a hospital bed back in Vista. Could people fall asleep in a dream, then reawaken with the dream still in progress?
Jason sat up, noticing that his coveralls remained slightly damp. In the light of day he could see that some of the surrounding trees wore a rich purple moss sprinkled with tiny white flowers. A nearby shrub had long, corkscrewing leaves. The clues were subtle, but he was definitely nowhere near Vista, Colorado. An innate sense screamed that he was far from his home, far from his proper place. In fact, judging from the clothes the people at the waterfall had been wearing, he might not even be in his proper time.
Stiff muscles protested as Jason stood. He rubbed at his side where a rock had jabbed him all night. A muscle behind his right shoulder felt particularly sore. He realized it was probably the result of hauling back that bowstring the night before.
Jason sighed. With the surrounding trees obscuring his view, he had little sense of direction. A tiny yellow bird with black markings twittered on a branch. A small fan of feathers frilled the back of its head. More than most people, Jason had always paid particular attention to animals, but this was not a species he recognized.
Hands on his hips, Jason weighed his options. Wherever he was, dying of exposure in the wilderness seemed like a real possibility if he didn’t take action. Considering all the people he had seen at the waterfall, he concluded that there must be a town in the vicinity.
With a gnawing hunger growing, he struck off toward the rising sun. He soon came upon a brook narrow enough to jump across. He figured if he wanted, he could follow the brook downstream to the river. The crowd should have dispersed by now.
He crouched beside a place where the water splashed off a little stone shelf. The water looked clean, but he resisted the urge to drink, in case it would make him sick.
He decided to follow the brook. Then if he started dying of thirst, he could always risk waterborne bacteria in order to preserve his life. But he would head upstream first, since the river had been bad luck.
Jason did not travel far before arriving at a pool from which the brook originated. Surveying the area, he was startled to spot a huge building through the trees, constructed entirely of speckled granite. A frieze depicting men at war surrounded the top of the building—foot soldiers armed with spears and shields confronted armored warriors in chariots. Windowless walls of snugly joined blocks hid behind numerous grooved columns. A series of broad stone steps flanked by massive stone figures granted access to a brass door recessed in an arched alcove. The overall effect was that of a fancy museum. Except that the immense structure stood in the middle of a forest without a discernible road or path to grant access.
