Short Story: Day Hiker

Sweat dripped off of Archer Steuben’s forehead and fell to the dirt. The wind was still. The sun burned into the back of his neck. He pulled his hat farther down but made sure to keep his eyes covered. He was lost. He shouldn’t have even gone out today. The weatherman probably said something about the heat but he wasn’t listening closely enough to remember. No time to stand around, though. The only way he was going to find his way back was to continue.

A small brown bird flew quickly from a low branch to the ground. He was probably as hungry as Archer was. Why didn’t he pack extra food? He was usually more careful about things like that. He looked up ahead and saw an area crowded with trees and decided to take another break in the shade. He took out his white water bottle and drank. Before he could close it, the bottle slipped out of his hands and began spilling out water. He picked it up before losing too much but there was now a smear of mud on the tip of it. “Perfect.”

Archer wiped off the bottle, put it in his bag, and stood up to look for signs that there was a trail somewhere nearby. There was nothing so he moved on. As he walked, he thought about the previous day’s meeting. The client had told him that they no longer needed him as a consultant. They had found a larger company with more experienced employees. Archer had been in human resources for sixteen years and they didn’t think it was good enough. He asked why they couldn’t have told him on the phone instead of making him fly all the way out there. They said that they had just decided. People were always doing that to him. They never seemed bothered by his disappointment.

The trees were getting shorter and thinner now. He figured there would be something of importance ahead. There was. Several meters away, he could see a dilapidated fence; the paint chipping off. Three horses turned their heads and looked at them. One of them was a foal. Archer slowly approached them, hoping to see a barn or a farmhouse as well. People in Montana were not nice to him so far but maybe the owner would lend him a phone. After all, the only experience he had with people here was with the client.

“Stay away from my animals,” said a man standing behind the horses, evidently trying to fix another part of the fence.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow a phone from you,” Archer explained.

“I thought all you kids had them mobile phones that you can put in your pocket,” said the man.

“I do but I’m not getting a signal,” Archer said.

“I ain’t either. Now, git off my property before I git my scattergun. I know it’s around here somewhere,” the main mumbled the last few words.

Fearing the man would find his gun sooner rather than later, Archer moved back a little bit. “Okay well could you just tell me—?”

“I said git,” the man replied. He spit some sunflower seeds into the grass.

Archer turned around and headed back through the forest. Not much later, he passed out of the woods and into a field of tall grass. The sun was harder on him here but he felt less trapped. Perhaps now he’d be able to see a building or a road. He was right. Far away in the distance, he could see a one lane road slope up on a hill then disappear behind it. What was more exciting was the truck he could see parked on the side. He started running but grew tired and slowed his pace.

The truck was red and dirty. He could see a couple of dents along the side of it. One of the tires looked a little flat. As he got closer, he could see that the hatch was down and two legs were dangling over the edge. His heart beat faster. After all this, he did not want to see a dead body. Archer tip-toed towards it. Before he could see anything more, a little boy with blonde hair and a striped shirt rose from the bed. “Uncle?” the boy asked.

“What is it, boy?” said another voice.

“There’s a stranger,” the boy answered.

The man jerked his legs and sat up, peering at Archer. “Hi there,” he said. Can I help you? The name’s Jack. This is my nephew, Aaron.”

“Do you want some pizza?” the boy asked. “It has mustard in it.”

Archer hated mustard. He had never heard of it on a pizza before. On the other hand, he was so hungry. Maybe he could stomach through it just this once for survival reasons. Maybe not. “I’m not sure. Do you happen to have a cell phone on you, Jack?”

“I don’t have one of those,” Jack said. “Wish I could help.” Jack lay back down on the bed and covered his eyes with his straw hat. Aaron mimicked him.

“Well do you think later you could give me a ride to town or something? I’m kind of lost and out of food,” Archer said.

“My boy offered you some pizza. It’s still hot,” Jack said with a laugh.

“I know. I appreciate that but I would much prefer a ride,” Archer said.

“I can’t help you with that either,” Jack said. “My tire blew out.”

Before Archer could speak, Jack continued, “I don’t know my way to town anyway. We’re not from around here.”

“We is from Wyoming,” Aaron said excitedly.

Archer didn’t know what to say. These two appeared to be in a similar situation as he was but they were just sitting there. He was afraid to ask about it so he didn’t. Instead he turned around and left saying, “okay…thanks anyway.”

Microstory 25: At Odds

Robert Mathers opened the door to the roof and switched on his favorite song. He slowly walked over and stepped up onto the ledge. He had to wait until he got to hear the best part of the song one last time before jumping. As he was standing there, he saw something in his peripheral vision. It was a woman, standing on the ledge and crying. They made eye contact. What are the odds? He slipped off his headphones while they stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do in such a strange situation. If they both jumped, it would look like they were connected. The police would handle the case incorrectly. Robert stepped back down and bowed, opening his arm to graciously give this moment to her. He would have to find another roof. He started to walk away so that he wouldn’t be there when it happened but was stopped by a scream from the building across the street. He turned back and saw a man and a woman fighting in an apartment. They watched as the man grabbed the nearest heavy object and struck the woman across the face, dropping her to the floor. Robert and the other jumper looked at each other again. Things had gotten even more complicated. They looked back and saw the attacker prepare to hit her again. Before he could, sirens flared up in the distance, getting closer. The man stopped when he heard it too and ran out of sight. "There," the other jumper said. She was pointing toward a different window in the other building. Another woman was watching them, talking on the phone. The police cruiser pulled up and nearly struck the other man as he ran out of the building, still holding the weapon. They all lived.

Microstory 24: Japanese Puzzle Box

The cashier at the Asian Fusion restaurant gives me this weird smile as she hands me my change. I shake it from my head, grab my food, and leave. Once I'm finished eating, I look in the bag to see if there's a fortune cookie. Instead, I find a miniature Japanese puzzle box. A few minutes later, I manage to reach the final step. As I slide the piece over, the box explodes. After recovering from the shock, I look down to find a larger puzzle box. How did it fit inside? The urge to open this next box overpowers my fear of what might happen at the end. A half hour later, I  can tell that I'm nearly there. I grab a meter stick from the closet and use it to move the last piece. Just like before, this box explodes to reveal a box that is larger still. I laugh with excitement. How many are there? I spend the rest of the night opening boxes, eventually wearing gloves, safety goggles, and a heavy coat for protection. The largest box yet is about two feet wide and three feet long. It takes me hours, but I succeed. This time, it doesn't explode. The boards fall away, revealing a man curled up in a ball. He breathes a sigh of relief and hands me another miniature puzzle box, apologizing for it having to be this way. Before I can react, the box breaks open, stretching and unfolding until it’s large enough to encompass my entire body. It closes up and begins to shrink back down. I’m trapped.

Microstory 23: Three Dimes

When I arrived at my friend’s apartment complex, I discovered there to be no more free parking spaces left. The only ones available were at meters. I tossed my car, looking for change, and was fortunate to find three dimes, hashtag-thestruggle. This would get me to the three-hour limit, which was still a problem. “Feeding the meter” was illegal. I had to finish up there in the allotted time, or I would go to jail. As soon as I got upstairs, my friend asked me if I would drive him to a chick he met online who was getting rid of her old TV. I did as he asked, but hurried him along, fearful that I would lose my precious parking spot. But luck was on my side. When we got back, the space was still open. We stopped by the door to get the TV out. Just then, I looked over and saw someone park next to my spot. When he got out to pay his meter, I could tell that he saw that my meter was already running. He stepped back into his car. I dropped the TV on my friend’s foot, breaking it in two places, and cracking the TV screen. I then jumped back in my car and raced across the lot, slipping back into my birthright! The guy who wanted it was disappointed. So he stabbed me. I was arrested at the hospital for parking illegally.

Microstory 22: Passport

A couple weeks after Jackson Billings received his new passport, a second envelope arrived from the Department of State. Inside were over a dozen wallet photos of strangers, along with a weird sketch of random squiggly lines. It was an obvious mistake, and it occurred to him to call and report it, but he eventually just let it go. He never forgot their faces, though. For being so innocuous, it sure stayed with him. He kept the sketch on his fridge, and saw it every day. Years later, Jackson was boarding a plane to Iceland for...some reason. As he was looking for his seat, he saw someone he recognized. It wasn't long before he realized it was one of the men from the mysterious envelope. What an interesting coincidence? But as time passed, more people from the envelope appeared. He was either going crazy or...no, that was the only explanation. The last woman from the photos ended up sitting next to him. Once she got a good look at Jackson's face, her face turned green. She slunk back against the window like he was poisonous. Then she looked around, seemingly recognizing others. She pulled out her phone and started swiping through a photo album. Jackson stood up and compared. No one in her album had been in Jackson's envelope, but they were all on the plane. As he watched, the passengers started looking around, each of them recognizing some, but not all, of the others.

The flight attendant closed the door, then spoke on the intercom, "welcome. You have all been chosen. You have all chosen." Jackson was close enough to hear her when she spoke into some other device. "This is Unit North America. All of our Savelings are on board. Ready for decimation."

Microstory 21: Turtle’s Best Day

A few years ago, I was minding my own business, eating some leaves; like I do. Suddenly, a laughing gust of wind flies by and flips me over to me back. What a jerk. I was going to die. To make matters even worse, while I struggled--looking dumber than ever--a raccoon came along and offered to eat me and put me out of my misery. I convinced him that I had lots of turtle friends, and that we would taste great together. He flipped me over and followed me for miles...slowly. He complained about wanting to eat me and get it over with the entire way. But I managed to fend him off with my wits long enough for us to pass a bobcat. I had rolled myself down a hill by the time the bobcat finished eating the raccoon. I know turtles don't usually roll, but I was feeling happy. I had outsmarted one of the smartest animals in the kingdom. Once at the bottom, I found myself on my back again, but this time in a stream. I wasn't going to starve. I was going to drown! But I didn't give up. I swept my head back and forth, back and forth. Just when I was about to give up, my plan worked. All the rocks I moved changed the flow of the stream enough to flip me back over. I had survived death twice in one day.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 21, 2014 & March 22, 2015

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Mateo Matic walked downstairs to find the living room packed full of people. Just about everyone he was still in contact with was there for his birthday, and a few old faces. It was completely ridiculous, and he loved it. His family and friends were the most important thing to him, and only one of them was missing. When he was only seven years old, his birth mother disappeared with no trace. She had never been the one to raise him, but she had been part of the family the entire time. His adoptive parents maintained a healthy relationship with her, and she was able to see him whenever she wanted. It was unclear where she had gone, or why she hadn't told him, at the very least. There was no evidence of foul play. There was evidence of nothing. The Gelens had been good to him, though, and he was grateful for his life. Except for the one thing, he couldn't imagine anything changing. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

The party was spectacular, but it was lasting a little too long. He was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. The guests started filing out at around five o'clock so that he could have a quiet dinner with his parents. They ate a delicious and healthy salmon meal and exchanged gifts. For most families, gifts were given to only the one in celebration, but his was different. For all three birthdays, each of them would find something to give the other two. They weren't the richest people in the world, but they felt they had everything they needed. The gifts were usually small and thoughtful. He made his adoptive mother, Carol a necklace out of seashells, a callback to a similar one he had given her twenty years before. He bought his father, Randall a new pack of razors. They had a nice laugh about that one. Carol had gotten him the same thing. He playfully threw up his arms and conceded. He would finally clean himself back up. Ever since his retirement, he had let loose, but was willing to go back on that one thing.

Randall gave his wife a self-help book about how to make decisions that she had been trying to decide if she wanted. After those were done, Randall made an announcement. In lieu of a traditional gift, the two of them had decided for set up a bank account for him. It was a long-term investment, designed to help support his future children. All that money stuff went over his head, but he was speechless. He gave them both a big hug. “This is the best birthday ever. Ya know...except for my seventh.” They smiled and nodded.

“Okay,” Carol said. I know we decided the account was our only gift, but I couldn't help it.”

“Carol, what did you do?” Randall asked, but it was obvious he knew what second gift she had chosen.

She pulled a metal rosary bracelet out of her pocket. The beads were in the shape of shells. At the bottom was an oval; one side of which showed an image of the Virgin Mary, while the other had an image of Jesus. An eleventh bead connected that to a depiction of the crucifixion. “This was your birth mother’s. You know, she was far more religious that we are. She was always leaving trinkets at our house, subtly trying to get us to go to church more often. This was the last one before she went missing. I don't know why I didn't give it to you right away. I suppose I just wanted my own reminder of her. But it’s time that you have it. You are my reminder of her.”

That was the last time Carol Gelen would see her son for an entire year. After dinner, Mateo left the house to hang out with his old friends. When they were underaged, they would gather at a graveyard on the edge of town, and drink. They wouldn't ever get too rambunctious, but it was just nice to be away from the adults; away from judgment. They had grown up and grown out of it by now, but they went back to reminisce.

He was enjoying a beer with a lime stuck in it when a friend from college slithered up to him and snatched the bottle out of his hand. “It’s almost midnight.”

“So, I'm not allowed to drink anymore?” Mateo asked.

“Nope. The birthday boy is designated driver on the day after his birthday.”

Mateo took his beer back. “Your jokes aren't even funny, because they have absolutely no basis. I swear, man. You need to stick to data entry.”

“I'm a lawy—”

Mateo didn't hear his friend’s last statement. For no reason, his beer shattered into a hundred pieces. “What the hell?” He looked around. He was alone. There were a dozen other people with him a second ago, but they were all gone. “Hello?” No one answered. “As far as pranks go, this was pretty impressive. I haven't had that much to drink. How did you disappear so quickly?”

“Hello” came a voice from behind. Mateo turned around and found himself blinded by a flashlight. “Is that you, Mateo?” It was Mr. Halifax, the gravedigger. He had been letting them use the cemetery since the beginning as long as no one got hurt, everyone got home safe, and they kept the grounds clean.

“Yeah, do you know where everyone went?”

He released a disappointed sigh. “Come on. I'll drive you home. Your parents will want to know you’ve come back.”

They didn't talk on the way back. Mateo tried to ask what the problem was, but Halifax just kept saying that it wasn't his place, and he wasn't no psychologist. Carol gave him a big hug and broke down crying when they opened the door. Randall was behind her, crying as well. After some time, he was able to get answers out of them. He had been gone for exactly one year. He had disappeared without a trace, just like his mother before him.

“It’s happened before that too,” Randall started to explain hours later, after everything had calmed down a little. “Your family have been keeping diaries, claiming that an ancestor of theirs was from the past, and had been travelling forward in time, meeting and interacting with them long after he should have died. During one of these times, he apparently fathered a child, starting a family that was always paranoid about it happening to them as well.”

“But it never did,” Carol continued. “Not until your mother. Of course, even after her disappearance, we didn't believe the outrageous rumors that time travel had anything to do with it. But if you say you were in the cemetery in 2014, and suddenly you're here, I don't know what to believe. Maybe it’s all true.”

“But I came back,” Mateo complained. “If I’m here, where is my mom?”

Randall shook his head. “We don't know, son. I promise you, though, we are going to figure this out. We are not going to lose you again.”

But they did lose him again. At the strike of midnight that night, Mateo disappeared for the second time. It was March 23rd, 2016.

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Microstory 20: Hamster Song

"I wrote a song for my hamster a while back. It wasn't about my hamster. He had just been asking me to write a new one for the last two years, and I finally broke down and gave it to him. He listened to it politely but it was obvious that he was not impressed. I asked him if there was anything I should change. He just kind of looked out the window and cleared his throat. In the end, he had to admit that I was better off just writing a different song entirely. I told him that that is why I quit in the first place, that they were never good enough. He just scoffed. He was right. There were a few good ones. As I thought about them, I realized that they had one thing in common. My hamster had collaborated on every single one of the good ones. How could I have missed that? He was hesitant to get back into the business, as I had been, but he did agree. We worked day and night, testing lyrics and adjusting notes. But we did it. Hot damn, we did it! We wrote the best thing in our career. It became an instant hit on the radio. I was getting interviews and record deals. I was back on top. But my hamster wasn’t. I left him in the dust. He ended up suing me for taking credit for our work. His case was thrown out because the judge couldn't understand what he was saying because I’m the only one in the world who speaks hamster. I felt bad for him, but was relieved. And then he died, because hamsters don't live very long. What was the question again?"

"No question. I'm upping your dosage. Hamsters can't talk."