A Job to Nowhere

Lost

Memories can be deceiving, misleading, but a certain picture can be a shield to disapprove the false, to right the wrong; There's a wheat field, a summer by a strange farm, specks of the dandelions. White and gray. Then, a mischievous grin, an errant laugh with a dark weapon, hangs by the hand of this man. Blood on the waving wheat, a torn clothes on the ground. Bad dream. Nightmare.

I flinched my eyes open, sweat on my shoulder, covered in the blue sheet of a narrow bed. Safe, but in fear. A dream. There's a dusty presence in the room from the dream. A memory or a dream. The Unhinged clock hangs. I'm late for a job interview, ten more minutes and I'll be excluded from the only paycheck to pay the rent. I'll be living back in the streets. I attempt to look elegant with my limited wardrobe choices. I stepped out with a suit – no tie. I was out in the cold. No air conditioner in a room could make anyone smell like a pig. On the way, I stopped by the shop of the kind old lady for some fragrant and threw in a mouth freshener. She waves me out with a little smirk. I don't take it at the heart. I have no penny for a taxi so I take the bus which takes about 30 minutes. I'm definitely out of the job. 'No human in sight in Poland.'' Someone in the bus jilts. ''Dead or Living' She shouts to the people. ''It's the news'' She tells. ''Yes. It's all over the news.'' Speaks one. ''Must be some kind of hoax.'' Speaks another. The bus stops. I must not lose track of my purpose. News are not my concern. There's a lot happening in the world. I'm not made to grieve and show pity. I reach the fair, but there's no one there. They must have hired someone else for the camping trip. There's no reason to return home. No feelings to take home with me. There's a trifling prattle by the bootstrap. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry is there. The Wholly juveniles I was to take to camping. ''What's wrong?'' They're astonished by my voice. Erected and upright, searching each other's faces. ''The trip has been cancelled.'' ''See if you can talk to them.'' They sound desperate and disheartened. 'Why was it cancelled?'' I inquire. ''Something about Poland, cars, explosions and disintegrating.'' A guy in glasses cries. Something you can always expect coming out from the mouth of a guy in glasses. ''Do you think it's a post-apocalypse?'' the crowd inquires. I wish I knew so I can tell them a bit. I need to do this as much as they need to. An hour of convincing the Head of the fair. I was the only guide who was willing to do this. I assured them to be eyes and ears for them. I'm an eagle with eyes, but a rat for the ears.

I often drank myself into oblivion for a trip as this, but I was sort of lost anyways. I had to sense every errant speck of light. The monsoon wind has a tremendous blow to the leaves of nature, soft to the touch. The humungous growth of the mountains above the wilderness are like the mouth of a mammoth. Seven days into this wilderness are an escape from vacate notes, being alone and loud neighbors from every Ooh to Ah! I could use such extra hours of time to count the beats of my heart and breath air which is not polluted with coughs, dry lips and pollution. I can't just wake up, eat, reproduce and die. Something screeches, a scared little cry. I run to the sound. It's a crowd. A girl bowed down to the bleeding face of her friend. What happened? She tells that a wild thing has cut him. The wound is deep, clawed in anger and resistant. The animal had run off to the call of the dusk. From the casting shadow of the sun. I stitched the wounds of the boy and my guiding partner, Lucy, cleared the pain. Everyone's exhaustion calls them to a slumber while Lucy and I are kept awake by the light of the fire for a little warmth from the freezing day. She fears for more outcomes. She fears we have entered an unprotected and deathly area, but wild has never been a safe place. There's more to fear than the wilderness in this time of the world. Lucy craves to go back home after this trip and lay down on the couch with her puppy. Probably me if things go quite well. We leave the fire burning before we dozed off for the night only to return to the daily horrifying nightmares. The wheat field. There's another scream. Dream or Reality? Someone shakes my hand. I wake up to see the face of Lucy. She's horrified.

Her face tangled from the knots of confusion. What are we doing here? She questions. Many kids are missing. They're lost. She doesn't know what I'm talking about. She wants to go back home. There's blood on the tents, but not anyone there. A young girl cries for her lost boyfriend who was with her before the break of the dawn until the blink of her eye. If only she could hold that blink. If only she could stop it. Lucy doesn't remember coming on this trip. None of them, but some of us. We have the slightest memory. I remember every step. I assure them to guide them back home, but it's a long walk. Snow falls on tip of the leaves. It's summer. The crying of everyone lingers, but the girl who had her friend attacked by the creature doesn't have a drip of tear in her eyes. Her held down. Could it be the case of Poland? The extinction of Human life? Is it an agony to bear? Is it sort of an annihilation? Our evacuation comes to a halt when our path is lost; Tangled branches, uncanny weather and the quick hold of dark over the light. Looming whispers around us creates a symphony of loss and grief. The path is lost. Half of the teenagers are gone while some are out of their mind asking questions to themselves about existence. Existing isn't easy. We exist to un-exist at last. The last of us gather around each other so there's no distance between to hold one another. No fire is to be lighted, but then a shivering cold crawls at our back; icy and freezing. I smell something funny in the air. Sour ashes. The sky is dead, soundless. No chirps or howls. From the long walk to here, we haven't seen any birds or flying thing. Broken quill falls on Lucy's shoulder. The trees were full of hums and songs of the birds when we first entered the jungle. My heart thuds faster. I'm losing the tracks. I'll be sued for convincing to bring the kids here when everyone knew that it's not safe. None of them figured it out. Knowing the circumstances, we walked out of the city into the wilderness. It will be a blame on my shoulder. I'm already dealing enough. I'd have to run to the apartment to get my things and find somewhere else to live. Anything could do. Just four walls and a roof. The crowd gets hungry waiting. They've used the last of their food resources. The fire is dangerous otherwise we could have cooked something. The sky turns red all of sudden. Blood red. Leaves fall dead on the ground. The woods are drying, ground heats up and shoes are melting in the ground. All of them cry in agony. Lucy trembles in horror. I look around and there's a tree that stands intact, green and just as beautiful cover by the shadow of the mountain. I howl at everyone to run to the shadow. One guy loses the skin of his feet, but everyone makes it to safety. My head is dizzy and heavy. Reaching there, we lose our consciousness and our eyes are closed before we know it. We woke up to the normal shy. The trees aren't tangled now. Leaves are scattered, the jungle is barren and dried. Everyone holds their head, not seeming to remember anything. Wounded ones are out of the sight, gone like the others. I don't see Lucy. She's not in the surviving group. I take the remaining of the survivors back to the city. Back to where I got them. I must announce the disaster to them myself. The teenagers scatter away with their motor bikes, tearful and shaking. I find the office of the manager. Lights inside are on. He must be here. I knock the door. No answers. For a third time, there's no answer. I peek through the window to find an empty desk. No one is inside. I run back to the bus station. The same bus I came on is there, but there's no sight of anyone in it. I walk to the city. It is lifeless. Everyone must be hiding in their homes. I shout in the big city and the echo calls back to me. Broken windows of shops, burned out roofs and a barren city. A drop of water falls on my hands from the uncanny clouds. It stings through my skin, leaving a numb spot. I look up to the sky, the clouds wither, flickering away and it goes gore. Giving the color of blood in the sky.