Finding Home || Skephalo

Chapter 1 - It's Not The End Of The Line

Darryl gently set Zak's cold and lifeless body on the even colder snow. His body sank into the frigid snow with ease. Zak was full of life and warmth almost a few minutes ago. Darryl found it difficult to believe that. He realized that he has grown attached to Zak over the weeks.

Darryl wiped at his puffy, red eyes. He had wept until he could not anymore. He had thought about going back to Vincent and Clay, but they were too far. He couldn't find the courage to resume the journey he and Zak were on. Most of all, he was afraid. He was afraid of going out on his own in the wilderness. He was also afraid of what would await him at home. With Zak, he wasn't afraid. With Zak, he would encounter whatever was in his way without a fret.

But he couldn't do that anymore. At least, not without Zak.

It was getting colder and darker with each passing second where Darryl was grieving for his late friend. It's bizarre how quickly somebody can get attached. It could take but only a day or an hour. Minutes, even.

Darryl watched Zak's motionless body as if he were waiting for something to happen. He waited and watched, but nothing was happening. Darryl was empty inside. He couldn't bother to light a fire as he was getting colder and losing body temperature. He was lost. The only thing he could do -- what he found himself doing -- was lay next to Zak. He took off his backpack and used it as a substitute pillow.

The Milky Way shone luminously above. It was hard to think that all of the blue, purple, and pink blotches each resembled millions of stars. And around each star lie planets. Darryl didn't see the Milky Way back in Florida. In fact, no one really ever did. There were too many artificial lights. Perhaps the geomagnetic storm that wiped out the lights and electricity everywhere was for the better. It gave emphasis to an aspect of the world that was, for the most part, hidden. Darryl smiled a weak, sad smile to himself. He reckoned that the melancholy climate would bring him to tears again, but he stayed strong. He didn't give in this time. He instead thought of the future and what lies ahead of him.

A radiant streak of light whisking across the sky at a remarkable speed suspended him from his thoughts. A shooting star. He generally didn't believe in wishing on them, but he decided to. Just this once. Please, Zak, don't be... dead. That was his final thought before his eyes felt heavy and they eventually shut.

"Goodnight, Zak," Darryl smiled lightly as he spoke, his voice barely audible.

Goodnight, Darryl. He could almost hear it as if Zak was truly speaking beside him. Darryl drifted off into a slumber, his own body heat being the only thing to heat him along the way.

Sunrise arrived surprisingly brisk for Darryl. He reckoned it was because of the gaining coolness in the atmosphere. His body was a bit moist, most likely because of melting snow. Darryl's eyes fluttered open at the iridescent light glistening through his eyelids. The sun was gleaming through open holes in the clouds, but the air around him felt as if the sun wasn't there at all. The snow was falling down lightly from the sky.

He sat up rapidly, suddenly acknowledging that it was a new day. A new day indicated that he had to determine whether to stay or go. Either way, he'd have to leave Zak behind. He couldn't carry him back to Clay's -- it was too far. He couldn't bring Zak with him to Florida. Certainly not. Florida was way farther. That infers that Zak would have to be buried here. In the middle of nowhere.

So Darryl got to work. He made sure to get rid of the food on Zak initially. He didn't want some varmint digging Zak up, even though it was relatively plausible already. Darryl reached into Zak's coat pocket, the leftmost one, and took out a pocket-sized journal. The cover was made from a light brown leather, eaten away by icy climates. The corners of the journal were peeling, but it nonetheless appeared generally decent. The journal was bound together by a leather strip, the exact variety as the cover. Darryl analyzed the journal a bit further.

He skimmed through the cream-coated pages. The paper felt smooth on his fingers. One page, however, was familiar to him. It informed him about melting snow in handwriting that Darryl knew he'd seen before. But it was primarily the writing that was familiar to him. It was the journal that he had found on the day after the crash. Zak had held it all this time.

Darryl noticed halfway that the complexion of ink and penmanship had altered. Who else had written in this? Zak? Darryl reached in Zak's pocket again and found a pen of the equivalent color of that of the writing -- blue. Fragile flakes of snow settled on the paper he was currently examining, the one that Zak wrote. There were a few pages with Zak's writing on it. They informed him about particular occurrences and discoveries that he and Darryl had gone through along their trip. Darryl chuckled lightly to himself as he read one of the pages. It read about the hydro-electric dam. After he finished reading the paper, he remembered that he had a responsibility to perform. Not a fun one, at that, but more a crucial one.

Darryl slipped the worn journal and blue pen into his coat pocket.

Shortly Zak was ready to be laid to rest with the hole dug and just an hour left of daylight. The hole prevailed in a clearing with forget-me-nots engulfing the region. Trees encircled the clearing like a tall, protective border. It was perfect.

The entire doing was almost unbearable for Darryl. Why did Zak have to go? Why did Zak have to leave him?

Once the final heap of dirt and snow was scooped onto the grave, Darryl wiped the sweat that had formed on his forehead. He couldn't part with Zak just yet, however. He wasn't prepared, anyway.

Darryl scanned his surroundings for the nicest of the blue and purple blossoms. He found the bluest one of the lot and carried it back to Zak's burial. He knelt down to the ground and gently sat the blue flower on the grave. Light snow shuffled through the bare trees and landed lightly all over the clearing. A pleasant breeze swept through the trees.

"Zak," Darryl cleared his throat as a lump advanced in it, "Zak. You were, uh, my best friend. You were... amazing. You always found a way through the hard times. You were always there for me. Even though you've done a lot for me in these past few weeks, do one more. Please."

Darryl sniffed and wiped at the tear that trickled from his eye. "Please... don't be dead. Please." Darryl couldn't help the warm tears streaming down his face. They scorched where they trailed due to the immediate change in temperature. He knew what he had wanted was impossible, but he nonetheless had hope.

"I'll continue on the journey. For you," Darryl stood up from his crouching stance.

"Goodbye, my friend." Darryl turned around at that and sauntered out of the clearing into the wilderness.

Once Darryl finished cleaning up their campsite, he packed up his backpack and walked off into the snowy terrain, the sunset projecting orange light onto the white, sparkly snow.