Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-23-

I had forgotten how being on the road gives you infinite time to think. I imagine Bobby's face when he woke up that morning to find me gone. His reactions range from immediate sadness to anger. Once I imagine that he might be happy I left. "Good riddance," he says when he looks around and sees that I'm not there. "Kid was costing me too much money."

Is it my ego that makes me think he could never react this way?

It is day three since we left Bobby's house, and I have yet to be lucky enough to get a ride. Mostly that has to do with Lila leading me through the woods instead of by road.

The forest used to have this pull on me that made me afraid, but it's not so bad out here. It's not real forest, anyway. Just bunches of trees that divide up farmland. It's nice not to have to worry about people, cops or otherwise, but after three days my food is running low and I'm tired. Hiking (I guess that's what you would call it) is a lot harder than just walking along a road. On the road I might get a ride, a chance to rest. Lila is tireless. Even if I tell her I'm taking a break, she come back and haunts me, licking my face and barking and jumping around until I finally get up and get moving again. "What's the rush," I complain.

My stomach is complaining now too. At this point, I'm not sure where the road is. I keep stumbling and tripping over tree roots and Lila runs on ahead. Why am I following a dog? I start looking out for any sign of a road through the trees, but by nightfall on that third day I still haven't seen anything.

It happens as the last of the sun winks through the branches overhead.

Nausea dizziness blackness

blankness

* * *

When I open my eyes it doesn't make a difference. It's still dark. I wait for my eyes to adjust and listen feel smell until I know.

Still the forest, still nighttime. My head is buzzing but I can hear the silence beyond it. No one around.

Nothing around.

Where is Lila?

I sit up. I feel the leaves and dirt beneath my hands, and little sharp things. Twigs

(bones)

Smell of rotting. The buzzing isn't from inside my head. There are flies everywhere, zooming around my head, hunting down that slimy stickiness that covers me. It's an agonizing long time before I have enough light to see, but by then I know at least it wasn't human, and it wasn't Lila. Lila's scent trails away from me like a path through the woods. The bones are small. Squirrels or rabbits or prairie dogs.

At least I'm not hungry anymore.

Slowly I begin to see the tree branches pressed against the night sky.

"Lila?" I ask the darkness.

No matter how hard I strain my ears, I hear nothing but the quiet chatter of insects. No birds, no rustle of leaves where small creatures scurry. No sound of a dog breathing, waiting quietly for her companion to stop devouring all living creatures that venture nearby.

It is only when I stand up that I realize something else is missing.

My clothes.

Yes, you'd think that would be something I might notice right away, considering the chill in the air. Immediately I crouch down to hide myself, then realize that no one is around to see me. I stand up, feeling strangely exposed despite the cover of night.

I always suspected that most of my blackouts occurred when I was naked. How else do you explain me killing people in the violent way that I do and waking up with clothes that are no dirtier than they were when I blacked out? Granted, there are exceptions. That golden retriever, for one.

Still, it's a little weird to think of myself blacking out, and THEN getting undressed so as not to dirty my clothes. And putting them back on after I've cleaned myself, before I regain consciousness?

The scent of death marks my path, and I begin to follow back to where my clothes (hopefully) still are, careful not to put my bare feet down on any bone fragments.

It's not normal. I always kind of imagined myself in some killing frenzy when I blacked out, like some psychotic part of my mind took over. But a killer in a frenzy wouldn't think about the mess. Unless he was an entirely separate personality.

It could be a medical condition. There are symptoms, the hunger, the dizziness, the feeling like I'm gonna throw up. A rare medical condition that makes me eat people.

I alternate between having a medical condition and a psychological disorder until I realize I've been walking for a good long while and I still haven't found my clothes. I can still smell the trail (and yes there are still little animal bodies to avoid in the darkness).

And still no Lila.

Suddenly it all weighs down on me and I stagger like it's a real weight. I should never have left Bobby. Things might have worked out, if I stayed full all the time, and Lila was there. Now because of some stupid dream, some childish impulse to go home and see my mommy, I have nothing, literally nothing. No clothes. No backpack full of supplies. No Lila. I'm in the middle of the godforsaken forest like I've just been born.

A grey glow is creeping over the sky, the early stages of dawn, but it doesn't help me see because I'm crying like a

fucking little baby

snot dripping from my nose and my hands under my armpits to keep warm

doncha know men don't cry? you're not a man

my sobs echoing in the empty forest

you're a fucking little crybaby, aren't you?

And when I stumble over my clothes, neatly folded in the crook of a tree, my backpack hanging from a branch, it's a slap in the face

Say it, little baby. Say it.

"I'm a fucking crybaby."