Crash! Into a sharp jagged rock.
Crunch!
Again.
Smash!
It was relentless.
Joseph seemed to be a target for pain. The river's torrent swept him downstream towards what seemed like certain death. Too exhausted to fight the current, he let it take him away to a watery grave.
He shut his eyes tightly and waited for death.
Prayed for it.
Anything to end this misery.
The water lapped around his now shoe-less feet. The shore was all pebbles and his body ached from head to toe.
He didn't move.
He couldn't, even if he wanted to.
The light rain spat onto his ashen face and he opened his eyes. This time he managed to sit up and look around. Several metres away, the river roared past.
It seemed to mock him.
His saturated clothes clung to him and he was painfully aware of the bruises that spotted his body like dark tattoos, a constant reminder that he should be dead.
He almost wished he was.
Staggering to his feet, he got out of his wet clothes and hung them on some nearby bushes. It was still raining but hopefully it was only a passing shower.
Gathering some small bits of driftwood, he made a small pile amongst the stones. He 27
stopped short.
Matches.
There had been a box in his pocket.
Now they were... He rushed over to the bush and patted the pockets. Yes they were still there. Inspired by his luck, he fished them out and was surprised to find they were not very wet at all. He slid the box open afraid of how few he may find.
Seven.
He smiled. Lucky for some, he grimaced. Returning to his fire, he crouched down and took a match out. His hands shook as he struck it and it ignited.
So far so good. Placing the match at the base of the pile, he prayed it would light.
Success.
The small flames grew and embraced the kindling. He got his clothes, set them down near the flames, and warmed his hands.
Up above the rain eased, before stopping altogether.
He was incredibly hungry. When was his last meal?
The other pocket had contained a small pocketknife and a few meager items; a piece of string, a paper clip and a quarter.
I wonder if there is a phone booth nearby, he mused.
He was surprised he had maintained his sense of humour. It prevented him from going insane. He picked up a small branch and studied it closely. It would make an ideal spear he thought to himself. He had topped his class in woodwork last semester.
Was it really only a month ago that he was at school with his friends, playing basketball, hitting the arcade after school, ogling the girls as they walked past in their mini shorts and figure hugging tops?
It seemed like years, so much had happened since then, so many memories, so much pain.
A loud squawk invaded his thoughts. He glanced up. A ruby throated humming bird, common throughout in these parts, had wandered close by. So carefree and innocent, it walked towards him.
Joseph got up to advance on it but it quickly flew off.
He began to whittle the end of the stick down to a point for a makeshift spear.
Deer, he thought to himself.
28
His dad had taken him deer spotting when he was younger. They had seen several but they were both strong supporters of leaving animals be. Kill only if you have to, his father had advised him.
That time had come.
He was weak with hunger.
He got to his feet and walked through the trees that met the shores of the Campbell River.
He was able to move about without too much discomfort and he found it helped his state of mind to be doing something constructive.
He had managed to make a nice spear and the end was certainly sharp enough.
He checked the ground for any signs. Unfortunately, the recent rain would have eliminated most animal tracks. Some faint hoof marks gave him hope, and he eagerly followed them into the dense forest.
It was a good size.
He guessed it could keep him fed for a couple of days.
Creeping up slowly, he positioned himself behind a tree about ten feet from the beast. The damp leaves of the bushes contrasted with the heat of his naked body and he was careful not to make any noise. These animals, swift and agile, scared easily.
This was it.
The moment of truth.
This would determine whether he would eat tonight.
This is it big guy, he thought to himself. The game's on the line, the crowd is cheering.
He raised his arm and aimed at its chest. He had to kill it in one shot. He edged closer.
A twig snapped at his feet and the deer's head shot up immediately. Seizing the moment, he threw with all his might.
Perfect.
He could not have timed his shot any better. The spear pierced the deer at the neck and it slumped to the ground.
Joseph raced forward.
It lay still, not breathing, silent. He retrieved the spear, grimacing at the sucking noise it made and moved to the front of the deer.
He smiled menacingly.
29
He would eat well tonight.