Day Eighteen: Evening
About a month on this island has certainly brought out the hunter in me. I found a “comfortable” spot in a tree and waited and waited and waited. Late last night I heard a metallic grinding noise. It was soft, but out of place amongst the night sounds that I’ve grown accustomed to.
The bastard must have been wearing some sort of spy goggles, because he didn’t need headlights and the engine noise was silenced somehow. The small four-wheeler moved through the trees without a hiccup. Moonlight helped me see that it was a man dressed in some sort of dark colored paramilitary outfit. I saw what I think was a pistol under his left arm and some sort of long barreled weapon strapped across the front of his handlebars.
At that moment I expected some big plastic bubble to come along and scoop me up.
Obviously that didn’t happen and I spent the rest of the night waiting for him to come back. Somehow I fell asleep and sunlight peeping through the canopy of leaves worked better than any alarm clock I ever had. After cursing myself for a good five minutes, I climbed down with a minimum of creaks and groans from abused muscles.
I know now that I’m not alone. Today brought no revelations other than a few new tire tread marks by last nights lone ranger. That makes me think a few things:
1. What else have I missed in my time here?
2. Was I put here by these people or to find these people? Or was it a “happy” accident?
3. How do I introduce myself? Or should I?
4. They must know I’m here. Why haven’t’ they introduced themselves? Rude if you ask me.
I’ve spent the better part of today huddled in my protective circle thinking these thoughts. I think I know how I’ll proceed, but it will take some luck and a little prep-work. And some more luck.
The bastard must have been wearing some sort of spy goggles, because he didn’t need headlights and the engine noise was silenced somehow. The small four-wheeler moved through the trees without a hiccup. Moonlight helped me see that it was a man dressed in some sort of dark colored paramilitary outfit. I saw what I think was a pistol under his left arm and some sort of long barreled weapon strapped across the front of his handlebars.
At that moment I expected some big plastic bubble to come along and scoop me up.
Obviously that didn’t happen and I spent the rest of the night waiting for him to come back. Somehow I fell asleep and sunlight peeping through the canopy of leaves worked better than any alarm clock I ever had. After cursing myself for a good five minutes, I climbed down with a minimum of creaks and groans from abused muscles.
I know now that I’m not alone. Today brought no revelations other than a few new tire tread marks by last nights lone ranger. That makes me think a few things:
1. What else have I missed in my time here?
2. Was I put here by these people or to find these people? Or was it a “happy” accident?
3. How do I introduce myself? Or should I?
4. They must know I’m here. Why haven’t’ they introduced themselves? Rude if you ask me.
I’ve spent the better part of today huddled in my protective circle thinking these thoughts. I think I know how I’ll proceed, but it will take some luck and a little prep-work. And some more luck.
© 2004 by Scott Roche
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