Shouldn’t have tried a shortcut. I slap the navigation again, but the screen remains dark. Shoulda charged my phone at home. Shoulda bought a car charger. Shoulda shoulda shoulda. Now I’ll miss the start of the game
I hurry into the Easy Mart and ask the lady how to get back to the highway. She tells me to bear right at the drowning man.
… I creep along for about five minutes till I see him. Fortunately. His head barely turtles above the surface of a river running alongside the road. There’s a left curve and both a soft and hard right. Which right do I take? I pull over and go to the river. “Can you hear me?” I shout, noticing the flow rippling around his ears.
Tilting his head back so his mouth is clear of the water, he says something I can’t make out.
I yell more loudly and punch each word. “Which … way … to … the … high … way?” No response. I stand tall and stretch my arm left, a little right, then far right. The man starts to speak, but, just my luck, goes under. I don’t have time for this. I turn to go, but hear him sputtering.
The drowning man works his mouth, but only a stream of water comes out.
“Say again?”
He gasps one word. I think it’s “Left.”
“Left? The woman at the Easy Mart said bear right.” The man’s eyes look glassy.
I have to make a choice. I read you can believe a dying declaration, so I opt for left. I give the man a thumbs up and white rabbit myself to the car.
As I go along, the asphalt smithereens to gravel. The road snakes and narrows. Maybe I misheard the drowning man, or he wasn’t thinking clearly. Gravel becomes dirt. Ruts wrench me to a crawl. I’ll be lucky to catch half the game. Tree limbs claw the car. There’s no place to turn around. My arms throb from squeezing the steering wheel. I gasp for breath. My head spins. I’m about to pass out when I break into a clearing, and the road widens. I tell myself to hold on. After a few minutes I’m back on asphalt. Still dizzy though.
I stop and notice the river alongside the road. I hate to lose any more time, but could use a splash on my face. I stumble to the bank, lose my balance and tumble in. The current pulls me out and slams me into a rock. Too hurt to swim, I can barely keep my head above water. My life flashes before my eyes. Suddenly a man appears on the bank. I’m saved!
I cry for help.
The man stands tall and faces left, a little right, then far right.
David Henson and his wife have lived in Brussels, Belgium and Hong Kong over the years and now reside in Peoria, Illinois with their dog Annabelle, who likes to walk them in the woods.