Reflections

The overhead light flickered erratically, casting unpredictable shadows across the grimy walls. Wade's gaze was drawn to the mirror above the sink, its surface smeared and speckled with age, yet something about it made it feel he was being watched.

As he approached, a sense of unease washed over him, a whisper in his mind urging him to look away. Look away he did. There was no window in the bathroom. No escape. The cramped, dingy space of the bathroom made him feel like a cornered animal.

"Hey kid, you done in there? Need to use the john," a gruff man's voice called out, tinged with impatience.

"Yeah, I'm done," Wade called out, his voice steadier than he felt. He unlocked the door and stepped out. Wade's eyes darted around the gas station's interior as he stepped out of the restroom, his heart racing. Skye was preoccupied at the main exit, absorbed in her compact makeup mirror, oblivious to his presence for the moment. Seizing the opportunity, Wade scanned the area for another way out. His gaze landed on a glowing exit sign situated just behind the checkout counter, labeled clearly as an "Employee Exit."

The old lady manning the checkout was distracted in ringing up a customer. She was flirting with a bespectacled dark haired man. Wade seized the moment, his movements swift but calculated to avoid drawing attention. He slipped past the aisles, his steps light and quiet, making his way towards the less conspicuous exit.

Wade's heart hammered against his ribs as he eased the employee exit door open, the faint click of the latch seeming to thunder in his ears. He stole a fleeting glance back and locked eyes with Skye just as she snapped her compact shut, her gaze slicing through the distance between them like a knife. As he passed through the threshold, a final act of defiance surged through him. He raised his hand and flipped her off. Skye's reaction was immediate, her eyes widening in shock and then narrowing in anger. 'Oh shit.'

He darted forward, each step a mix of desperation and determination. Behind him, the old lady's voice cut sharply through the air, "You can't be back here, miss!" Wade knew that was directed at Skye, now thwarted in her chase, even if just momentarily.

That brief delay was all Wade needed. He propelled himself forward with newfound vigor, the cool air biting at his cheeks. He could almost sense Skye's frustration, her footsteps a menacing echo in the back of his mind. But he couldn't afford to look back, not now when every second counted.

The street outside stretched before him, a corridor of freedom. Under the early afternoon sky, Wade found himself at a critical juncture. Without any money and the limitations of being just a kid, his options to leave town were severely restricted.

He would need to walk out of Cedar Valley. Taking a deep breath, Wade assessed his surroundings. The streets were relatively quiet, with only the occasional car passing by. Determined, he set a brisk pace, sticking to less traveled roads to avoid drawing attention. With each step, the buildings of Cedar Valley began to thin out.

Glancing over his shoulder with a mix of caution and fear, Wade increased his pace, the bridge now in sight. The early afternoon sun cast long shadows. With the open expanse of the bridge ahead, there was little cover, and the risk of being spotted was significantly higher. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to move faster, knowing that once he crossed the bridge, the myriad of backroads and trails would offer him a better chance to disappear from their pursuit.

The river below flowed quietly. A scant few more cars passed by paying him no mind. With the entire country likely on the lookout for a runaway in the wake of his friend's mysterious disappearance, anonymity was crucial. He couldn't risk being spotted or recognized. It was only a matter of time till his face was blasted on the evening news.

Wade's pace quickened as he moved away from the bridge, keenly aware of the risks that lay in venturing too deep into the dense foliage.

He stayed on the fringe, where the forest met the open land, maintaining a careful balance between remaining concealed and avoiding the potentially dangerous depths of the forest. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig underfoot sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, heightening his senses to the world around him.

Staying out of sight meant avoiding the main roads and populated areas, but it also meant he couldn't stray too far into the wilderness for fear of what might be waiting in the shadows.

The first hour out, Wade heard police sirens in the distance. It spurred him to move faster. He kept walking even as the sun started setting. Avoiding the main road, he took an old county road, thinking it was safer.

Wade tried to cover his tracks by dragging a pine branch. The branch left drag marks on the ground, so he stopped, worried it might actually make it easier for someone to follow him.

He walked until the sun was down, using the county road to guide him. As darkness fell, Wade's pace slowed from fatigue. Wade felt the urge to rest, but he could not stop. He needed to put as much distance between Cedar Valley and himself.

Flakes of snow began to drift lazily down from the sky. The snow started lightly but soon grew steadier, blanketing the ground and muffing the sounds of his footsteps. Wade wrapped his coat tighter around him, the cold seeping through his clothes. The hat and gloves Wade wore offered little protection against the biting cold. Shivers racked his body, and he could barely feel his fingers and nose anymore, both going numb from the relentless chill.

In the cold night, Wade saw a light from a small white farmhouse. Inside, an old man was having dinner. Wade's breath clouded in the frosty air as he trudged toward the solitary farmhouse light, his body shivering uncontrollably. Despite the cold biting through his inadequate gloves and hat, the distant glow beckoned him with the promise of warmth. The barn was dilapidated and leaning slightly to one side.

He edged through a jagged opening in the barn wall, the splintered wood snagging his coat and leaving a raw scratch across his back. Inside, the barn was a cavernous space of shadows and forgotten corners, the air thick with the memory of livestock. The pungent aroma of manure lingered, mingling with the mustiness of abandoned hay.

In the dim light, Wade's eyes saw an old wool blanket, its fibers frayed and stained with age. With trembling hands, he wrapped it around his shoulders, the coarse wool scratching against his skin. The stench of the blanket was overpowering, but the faint warmth it provided was a welcome relief from the piercing cold.

Huddled in a corner, Wade rummaged through his bag, his fingers clumsy and numb. The rustle of a granola bar wrapper echoed loudly in the quiet barn. He paused, contemplating the meager meal. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, yet he hesitated, knowing his supplies were limited. With a resigned sigh, he tore open the wrapper, the sweet scent of oats and honey briefly overpowering the barn's mustiness.

Wade's struggle against exhaustion was futile; the day's relentless tension and the biting cold sapped his strength until he could resist no more. He succumbed to a restless slumber, the discomfort of the barn floor and the penetrating chill preventing any deep rest. He awoke shivering in the dead of night. The gentle touch of snowflakes on his face made their way from the hole in the roof.

He knew he needed more than what he had to survive. With a determined breath, he unwrapped the musty blanket from around his shoulders, the cold air immediately enveloping him. His body protested the movement, stiff from the cold and the unforgiving barn floor. The light dusting of snow crunched under his feet as he approached the house, his heart pounding not just from the cold but from the audacity of what he was about to do.

Wade pushed against the hole in the barn wall to exit, the rough edges catching his coat once more.

As Wade cautiously encircled the house, its modest one-story structure revealed a singular bedroom through the dimly lit windows. Inside, an elderly man was lost in the depths of sleep. Testing each window with gentle pressure, Wade found them all steadfastly locked.

The front door, surprisingly, yielded to his touch—a reckless oversight in such remote areas. He nudged it open. The antiquated room, veiled in darkness, slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted.

Wade shed his jacket, transforming it into an impromptu sack. His movements were deliberate, each step and action measured to avoid any sound that might betray his presence. The shelves offered a modest bounty of canned goods.

In the living room, the glow of moonlight filtering through the windows illuminated a plush leather recliner, which lay a thick wool blanket. Wade, recognizing the potential warmth it offered, carefully transferred the canned goods from his jacket to the blanket, ensuring none of the items made a sound. With his coat back on, he paused, listening to the quiet of the house around him.

Suddenly, a soft sound broke the silence—the gentle pitter-patter of small feet and the clicking of nails against the wooden floor. Wade froze, tensing as the shape of an old, overweight bloodhound came into view. The dog, its senses dulled by age, seemed more curious than alarmed, its tail wagging slowly as it approached Wade, drawn by the scent of food.

Wade, understanding the unspoken truce offered by the dog's demeanor, carefully opened a granola bar. He offered it to the bloodhound, which accepted the treat with a gentle nudge of its nose. With the dog momentarily distracted, Wade seized the opportunity to quietly exit the house, his arms wrapped around the wool blanket filled with his scavenged supplies.

Once outside, he wasted no time putting distance between himself and the farmhouse. The cold bit into him as he walked back onto the county road. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, but the need to keep moving.

Wade trudged on, each step heavier than the last, his exhaustion mounting with every passing minute. Finally, unable to fight the overwhelming urge to rest, he collapsed under a cedar tree. There, he forced himself to eat some sardines, the salty taste mingling with the cold bite of snow he used to quench his thirst. Despite the brief respite, his body cried out for sleep, his eyes struggling to stay open.

With a weary determination, he pushed himself back onto his feet and continued his journey. The landscape around him was a blur of shadows until he stumbled upon a haunting sight—an old graveyard, its tombstones jutting like crooked teeth against the night sky. Nearby, the charred remains of a small church stood.

In the graveyard, Wade found an old door, its wood singed but still solid. With an effort that seemed to sap the last of his strength, he dragged it to a nearby pine, propping it against the tree to create a makeshift shelter. He pushed the snow from out under. He then meticulously wrapped himself in the wool blanket, carefully arranging the canned goods aside, and covered his face to shield it from the biting cold. Beneath the protective cover of the door, Wade finally surrendered to sleep. His body curled tightly within the blanket, albeit a little damp.

Dawn broke, casting a pale light over the old graveyard, revealing Wade huddled under the door, a makeshift shelter that offered little comfort through the night. Waking up congested, stiff, and shivering, he felt hungry, tired, and damp from the melting snow. It was clear to him that another night like this could be dangerous, if not fatal.

Clearing his throat with a raspy cough, he hawked up a loogie, the taste of it bitter in his mouth. Hunger gnawing at him, he reached for a granola bar and a can of peaches. It took him a minute to cut the top off with his knife. The cold, sweet fruit did little to satiate his hunger but provided some much-needed energy. He scooped up handfuls of snow to melt in his mouth, a poor substitute for clean water but necessary to stave off dehydration.

After a quick and private moment behind some bushes to relieve himself, Wade packed up his few possessions and trudged along.

Laboring under the weight of fatigue and punctuated by bouts of coughing, Wade continued his journey. The need for a hot meal grew with every mile, yet he moved slowly, deliberately, taking frequent breaks to catch his breath and rest his weary legs. As the sun climbed higher, indicating it was around midday, he stumbled upon a sign that read "Welcome to Bear City." A slight relief washed over him, thankful for the season that ensured the town's namesakes were deep in hibernation, one less danger in his path.

Wade skirted the edges of Bear City. As evening cast shadows, an abandoned trailer appeared on the horizon, promising shelter but delivering despair. Its door was missing, windows and ceiling gaped open like wounds, and inside, the sagging floor and a stained, barren mattress spoke of better days long past. The trailer's skeleton offered nothing but a threadbare, moldy pillow, which Wade took, more out of necessity than desire.

Nearby, a graveyard of abandoned cars looked promising.One, in particular, caught his eye, its body more intact than the rest. Fighting against the rusted door, he managed entry into the backseat, which, despite its layer of dust, provided a dry, somewhat secure place to rest. His reflection in the rearview mirror showed a tired boy. He looked awful.

Morning found Wade in the backseat of the derelict car, his congestion stubbornly clinging on but not exacerbated by the night's conditions. Though the physical comfort was minimal, the brief escape from the elements allowed him a momentary respite.

Wade decided to take a day to rest after realizing he couldn't keep walking nonstop. He looked for a better place to stay and found another farm. This one looked busier, with a few cars in the driveway and sounds of animals from a big red barn. Wade sneaked into the barn and found it was home to a couple of cows and a horse. He climbed up to the loft and found a pile of hay to sleep in. Throughout the day, a farmer came into the barn a few times to check on the animals. Wade stayed hidden during these times.

In the evening, he saw a yellow school bus drop off two girls older than him. They went inside the house and later played in the snow. Wade watched them from the barn. He could see the lights on in the house during dinner time and felt envious of the warm meal. After the house went dark for the night, he settled back into his hay pile.

Wade awoke to a piercing scream from a woman. The scream seemed to come from the direction of the farmhouse. He lay frozen in the hay, his heart pounding, trying to make sense of the sudden disruption. The barn was silent except for the occasional shift of the animals, seemingly unperturbed. Wade strained his ears, listening for any follow-up sounds, wondering what could have caused such a distressing noise.

Wade's blood ran cold as the eerie humming infiltrated the barn, a haunting melody that seemed to seep through the wooden planks, wrapping around him like a chilling breeze. It was the same unsettling tune from the ritual during the eclipse, a sound he hoped never to hear again. Panicked, he burrowed deeper into the hay, covering himself entirely.

Wade's heart pounded in terror as the barn door creaked open, the unsettling sound of the animals' restlessness echoing in the dim space. The haunting humming drew nearer. In a desperate attempt to shield himself from the sound, Wade pressed his hands tightly against his ears, but it was futile. Suddenly, an icy grip, cold and unyielding, clutched his throat, pulling him from his makeshift hideaway in the hay