The Dream Trotters

Chapter 16

In the middle of a grove of trees petrified by time, an olive colored jeep roared through the foliage, disrupting life, which had remained quite untouched for a while.  That habitat was fragile, yet firm.  Everything was left the way it had fallen, yet it still remained to have an overall aspect of organization.  

Anyone walking by would have been reminded of a room at a grandparents’ house, which still has the craft exactly where you left it, sitting that way for years on end.  

It was a resemblance of the first snow of winter.  When you wake up and see that the ground is completely covered, each different plant and roof tile perfectly wrapped in thick snow.  

The type of landscape that almost makes you unwilling to go outside, to press your muddy boots into the flawless snow.  Leaves whirled with exhaust fumes, mixing together to form a magical yet realistic leaf storm.  

Squirrels which had spent that last hour arguing over which branch was theirs, scuttled off, scared by the noise.  The sound that emanated from the car wasn’t loud, yet even the most minuscule sounds pierced through the vigorous quiet of the forest.  

Tires, which held the remains of several different roads within their treads, connected with crusty tracks, fitting perfectly together.  Violent leaves plummeted down from their homes, committing suicide in mass numbers.

Their impact upon the clay-infested earth was quiet, and regarded as unimportant by the rest of the world. But each leaf was a sign, a signal of death and life, for those leaves would never repeat the fall they had just completed, yet maybe a new tree would grow in their graves.     

The jeep roared around a few corners, before ending up at an old building.  From the outside, it was a disappointing structure, beaten and bruised by time.  It was a shell, a dream of a building.  But to any child’s mind, it was adventure.  

To any kid who had been trapped in a schoolroom, tortured by mathematical facts and social problems, it was a play-place, the perfect castle, the ideal spy-center, a faultless military base.  

The walls were many, yet seemed to be few, resembling the color of a sidewalk.  Four identical smokestacks crowned the top of the building, peeking out and shining dully in the auburn air.   

The jeep came to a full halt, right in front of the building.  There was no need for a garage, this place was forgotten anyway.   The old man dragged the two teenagers in, a feat that seemed impossible but only proved difficult for him.  He sat them both on the tan couch within the main room and waited.