See John write

Stephen, Samantha, and their three children sat around the picnic table in their Mirror Lake camp site. Ethan at twelve years old was looking more and more like his father every day. They shared the same sandy brown hair, startling blue eyes, and an easy dimpled grin. Brandon, the eight year old, had much more of his mother’s coloring. His hair was dark brown and kept in a buzz cut because he simply didn’t have time to deal with combing it in the mornings. Sarah was the youngest and had recently turned five. She was completely blonde, like her father had been when he was a child. But she had her mother’s big brown eyes. She was the quietest of the children, watching her brothers constantly.

Sarah sat on the bench with her chin resting on both hands. For ten minutes now, Ethan had been trying to convince his mom to let him hike to a nearby lake with his dad in the morning.

“Aw, c’mon, Mom” Ethan begged.Samantha looked at Stephen hoping for some help. He gave her a shrug that she knew meant “You’re on your own on this one.”

“Ethan, I don’t think that it’s a good idea.” Samantha could tell this was one of those rites of passage moments. Her little boy was wanting to spread his wings, to take advantage of privileges that were off limits even a year ago. She knew she couldn’t keep him a little boy forever. But this was not like he was asking to sleep over at a friend’s house.

“Mom, you’re not being fair.”

“Look, I know you could hike the distance—that’s not even the issue for me.”

“Then what is?”

“Well, frankly, it’s that neither of you are familiar with this area at all. You see a lake on the map and think that it’s like walking around the block at home.”

“Mom, we’re not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were. I am simply pointing out that it may not be a simple as you think. What would you do if it took you longer than you thought to get there, do your fishing, and get back? What if it started getting dark?”

“Mom!” Ethan groaned. Stephen could see he needed to step in.

“Ethan, you know what, Mom is right. It’s been years since I was up here. I don’t exactly remember the way. It really could turn into a dangerous situation.”

Ethan couldn’t believe his dad was taking mom’s side. “Dangerous?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, dangerous. And besides there are plenty of fish that need catching right here in Mirror Lake.”

Ethan knew the discussion was over. He stared at the ground and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot.

“I’ll tell you what, Ethan,” Stephen offered. “Why don’t we get up really early before sunrise. The fishing will be great then.”

“Dad can I come too?” Brandon asked.

Ethan shot his dad a look. Stephen smiled at Ethan hoping he would understand. “Of course, you can come. But you’ve got to get right up. Those fish won’t wait for little boys who are too sleepy.”

Ethan cocked his head sideways and let out a sigh.

“I’ll get right up, Dad,” Brandon said excitedly.

The family stayed up playing card games by lantern light until the cool night air began to be uncomfortably cold. Samantha got the kids settled into the tent while Stephen heated a little pot of water on the camp stove. She came out and joined him for a cup of hot cocoa.

“So did you really want to hike to that lake?” Samantha asked as she sat down to her steaming cup.

“Well, when he suggested it, I thought it might be a good chance for him to feel like he was getting to do, ya know, a grown-up manly thing.”

“Do you even know if there’s a well marked trail?”

“I haven’t made that hike since I was Ethan’s age. But if I remember right, there was a good trail.”

Samantha pushed back a lock of her dark hair and tucked it behind her ear. Slowly she sipped her cocoa. “Well, I just don’t feel good about it. I’d be worried sick all day.”

“Sam, we decided not to go. Remember?”

“I know. But I could tell he really wanted to go. And you said before we came that you wanted to make sure the two of you had some good one-on-one time.”

“We had some great one on one time today. And we still have three more days before we head home.”

Samantha paused again and sipped her cocoa. “So, do you think he’s gonna be alright? You know, being a teenager and all.”

“Yeah. He’s gonna be alright.”

~~~~~~~

Ethan rolled over inside his sleeping bag. The early morning air was so brisk it almost burned his nose. He sniffled and opened one eye. Although the tent was still very dark, he could sense that the sky outside was giving the first hints of the new day.

Though he was quite groggy, he remembered his dad’s promise of early morning fishing. The whole campground was so quiet, he knew that most if not all of their neighbors were still sleeping. He could even hear one robust snore in the distance. He wiggled one arm out of his bag and reached over to his dad. With a gentle nudge he said, “Dad … Dad … Dad, its time to get going.”

Stephen lifted his head off his camp pillow about one inch. “Huh, yeah, sure.” Then his head went right back down on the pillow.

“C’mon, Dad. Remember what you told Brandon. ‘The fish won’t wait for little boys who are too sleepy.’”

“OK, OK. You get the gear together and I’ll be right there.”

Ethan knew it wouldn’t be long before other fishermen would be following the same plan. So he hurriedly found a sweatshirt in his bag that sat right beside his sleeping bag. He pulled on a pair of jeans and stood to unzip the tent door. He looked down at his dad who was barely stirring. As he was about to give him a good nudge with his foot, his dad lifted his head and said, “Open it quietly. Lets try to keep your mom and little sister asleep.”

“And little brother too,” Ethan added.

Stephen scowled at his oldest boy. Ethan was usually very good natured about letting Brandon tag along and try new things even though it sometimes meant slowing down to wait. Stephen knew what Ethan was thinking and that he would have little patience in this situation.

“Just get the stuff ready. We’ll be ready to go.”

With that Ethan carefully unzipped the tent door, slipped his shoes on, and stepped out. As he zipped the door back up, he saw his dad lay his head back down on his pillow.

~~~~~~

Vince had let hour after hour slip by in silence. The voices in his head even seemed to be growing tired. He stood up from his filthy grey couch and nearly collapsed. His head was dizzy and his legs felt numb. Stumbling over to the wall, he braced himself until the sensation passed.

He walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Then he made his way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A loaf of bread, a half gallon of milk, ketchup, and 24 cans of Coke. Vince grabbed a can of soda and cracked it open. He drank the entire contents in three swallows.

A small shaft of sunlight spilled in through a small slit in the living room curtains. Vince was surprised that it was morning. Then a thought surprised him—a memory from his childhood. It was only a flash, a photograph taken by his mind that had faded almost completely away.

Vince froze.

It was a moment of clarity. So much confusion. So much despair. Clouded thoughts and darkness. And standing there in the same apartment that had held him captive for days now, Vince felt the smallest wave of freedom. He knew it would not last long.

Almost unconsciously, he went to his spare bedroom. The room was almost impenetrable, junk was strewn from shelves against the wall, stacked on top of boxes that had never been opened since the last move, and covered nearly the entire floor. A thick layer of dust blanketed everything in the room.

Vince pushed things out of the way with his feet, then leaning over a large stack of boxes, he reached to the top shelf. He pulled down an old sleeping bag and tossed it behind him toward the door. Pushing aside a box to see the shelves more clearly, Vince suddenly became frenzied.

Freak. What do you think you’re doing? Having your spleen ripped from your belly and eaten by some hairy animal is better than a bullet? Whatever.

“Where’s the stupid tent!” Vince threw down another box and ripped open the top of the next. Another box was filled with old computer parts. Vince tossed them aside and heard something break inside. Without pausing, he stepped over a pile of clothes and picked up an old coat. There on the floor was a barely-used camping tent. Vince snatched it up and headed for the door. He scooped up the sleeping bag and headed into his bedroom. Grabbing a backpack he used to carry his uniform to work, he dumped out its contents on the bed. From the closet he grabbed a flannel shirt, a baseball cap, and a pair of jeans.

They won’t find the body for months. For years. Maggots or coyotes—doesn’t even matter. Rotting flesh, nothing but teeth and bones. Wonder if I could tie my hand up so it’s givin’ the bird when they find me.

Vince pulled on his work boots, they were stained with grease and oil but were much more rugged than the old pair of tennis shoes he wore most days.

As he swung the backpack off the bed, it clipped the box of 357 shells on the dresser and spilled them all over the floor. Vince stopped. He stared at the shells and the strange pattern they made on the carpet.

Don’t go freeze to death, maggot face. Or starve. Be a man and take the gun. Clean. Click and gone. Squeeze it that’s it.

Rage boiled up inside Vince. He growled and slammed his forehead into the wall. Again he banged his head into the wall. Again. Then he stooped down and started picking up shells by the handful. He threw them into the backpack, even more frenzied than when he was looking for the tent. It was as if he were making a quick escape, running, panicked.

With the shells picked up, he slid the pack over one shoulder, lifted the sleeping bag and held it under one arm and picked up the tent. He went into the living room and picked up the revolver and slid it into the waist of his jeans. Looking quickly around the room, he checked his pocket for his car keys. Then he went to the fridge and pulled out two cans of Coke and put them in his pack.

As he swung his apartment door open, the brightness of the day was blinding. He squinted and shaded his eyes with one hand. He let his eyes adjust to the light for a moment, then with the same urgency that seemed as though he were being chased, he hurried to his car. Tossing his gear in the back, he jumped in the driver’s seat and started the engine.