encountered none of the offal of
civilization. However, he was packing a good supply of food and shrugged it
off.
“Sooner
or later I’ll hit a highway.”
Sitting
by the fire one night thinking about nothing in general, Jeff noticed the glow
of a moon about to rise. That really seems bright, he thought. Probably a full
moon. He decided to go have a look but checked the Colt before leaving camp.
Whatever made the big paw prints had visited his camp on several more
occasions. Entering the valley, he climbed a hill to get a good view.
“Son
of a gun, those moons are beautiful. And they’re both full. What a night.” Jeff
did an incredulous double take. “Two moons? There can’t be two moons!”
Immobilized
by shock, Jeff watched with jaw agape as the smaller moon rapidly caught up
with the larger. All the discrepancies he had been collecting came together and
out into the open with a mental shout that nearly brought Jeff to his knees.
“This
can’t be Earth! It isn’t Earth!”
Some
time later he glanced at his watch and realized he had been standing there for
well over an hour. Turning every so often to view the moons, Jeff stumbled back
to camp in a daze. He truly was lost.
Badly
needing the moral support of a good blaze, he stirred up the coals and threw on
an armload of wood. Jeff thumped down by the fire and followed both moons as
they moved higher in the sky. The smaller moon was quite bright and seemed to
race by in front of the larger. He was tempted to pinch himself to see if it
was all a dream. Instead, he drew aimless patterns in the dirt with a stick.
A
sci-fi addict in his youth, Jeff recalled a book by Heinlein. Okay, he thought,
viciously attacking the dirt with his stick, so a nuclear blast blew this guy’s
fallout shelter into an alternate future. Welcome to the club. Jeff jabbed the
stick into the dirt and it broke with a dry snap.
“Oh,
bullshit! It’s probably no more than my imagination and just the Mars station.”
The
argument raged back and forth while he fed the fire. Frequent glances at the
smaller moon revealed it was not his imagination, nor could it be the Mars
station. It was far too large. Reason and emotion battled in a no-holds-barred
match that covered the entire mental landscape.
While
there was no escaping the scalpel-sharp persuasion of higher logic honed by
years of academic training, the power of ancient drives proved equal to the
task. Reason concluded he was no longer on Earth. Emotion—fear—rallied anger
and scorned such a conclusion. It was down and dirty. Hours passed without
resolution.
Jeff
jumped to his feet, grabbed a rock, and heaved it at a tree. “This whole thing
is a bunch of crap! Damn it, this is Earth! That goddamed earthquake has
totally fucked me!”
He
threw more rocks and kicked the dirt, but all it did was make him want to cry
from loneliness. The thought that there might not be anyone within thousands of
miles proved so unsettling he sought escape in sleep. It was a restless night
of unsettling dreams and Jeff got up before the sun. He paced and sat, paced
and sat, the knowledge that he could not possibly be on Earth chipping away at
doubt only to retreat in the face of angry denial. Hunger would not be denied
and he spitted a piece of venison on a green stick.
The
smell of hot food, the warmth of the sun—both provided a pleasant timeout to
put his head back together. It was also challenging to reheat the meat without
burning it. When the venison was done to a turn, not charred black, Jeff took a
cautious bite but burned his tongue anyway. For the first time he noticed how
flat the meat tasted and sprinkled it with a light dusting of salt.
“Not
much left,” Jeff muttered, hefting the salt container. “Without salt this diet
could really get old, quick.”
That
kicked off a chain of associations. Okay, he thought, let’s accept that at the
very least you’re no longer in the Cascades. I’m here, wherever that is, and
nothing is
civilization. However, he was packing a good supply of food and shrugged it
off.
“Sooner
or later I’ll hit a highway.”
Sitting
by the fire one night thinking about nothing in general, Jeff noticed the glow
of a moon about to rise. That really seems bright, he thought. Probably a full
moon. He decided to go have a look but checked the Colt before leaving camp.
Whatever made the big paw prints had visited his camp on several more
occasions. Entering the valley, he climbed a hill to get a good view.
“Son
of a gun, those moons are beautiful. And they’re both full. What a night.” Jeff
did an incredulous double take. “Two moons? There can’t be two moons!”
Immobilized
by shock, Jeff watched with jaw agape as the smaller moon rapidly caught up
with the larger. All the discrepancies he had been collecting came together and
out into the open with a mental shout that nearly brought Jeff to his knees.
“This
can’t be Earth! It isn’t Earth!”
Some
time later he glanced at his watch and realized he had been standing there for
well over an hour. Turning every so often to view the moons, Jeff stumbled back
to camp in a daze. He truly was lost.
Badly
needing the moral support of a good blaze, he stirred up the coals and threw on
an armload of wood. Jeff thumped down by the fire and followed both moons as
they moved higher in the sky. The smaller moon was quite bright and seemed to
race by in front of the larger. He was tempted to pinch himself to see if it
was all a dream. Instead, he drew aimless patterns in the dirt with a stick.
A
sci-fi addict in his youth, Jeff recalled a book by Heinlein. Okay, he thought,
viciously attacking the dirt with his stick, so a nuclear blast blew this guy’s
fallout shelter into an alternate future. Welcome to the club. Jeff jabbed the
stick into the dirt and it broke with a dry snap.
“Oh,
bullshit! It’s probably no more than my imagination and just the Mars station.”
The
argument raged back and forth while he fed the fire. Frequent glances at the
smaller moon revealed it was not his imagination, nor could it be the Mars
station. It was far too large. Reason and emotion battled in a no-holds-barred
match that covered the entire mental landscape.
While
there was no escaping the scalpel-sharp persuasion of higher logic honed by
years of academic training, the power of ancient drives proved equal to the
task. Reason concluded he was no longer on Earth. Emotion—fear—rallied anger
and scorned such a conclusion. It was down and dirty. Hours passed without
resolution.
Jeff
jumped to his feet, grabbed a rock, and heaved it at a tree. “This whole thing
is a bunch of crap! Damn it, this is Earth! That goddamed earthquake has
totally fucked me!”
He
threw more rocks and kicked the dirt, but all it did was make him want to cry
from loneliness. The thought that there might not be anyone within thousands of
miles proved so unsettling he sought escape in sleep. It was a restless night
of unsettling dreams and Jeff got up before the sun. He paced and sat, paced
and sat, the knowledge that he could not possibly be on Earth chipping away at
doubt only to retreat in the face of angry denial. Hunger would not be denied
and he spitted a piece of venison on a green stick.
The
smell of hot food, the warmth of the sun—both provided a pleasant timeout to
put his head back together. It was also challenging to reheat the meat without
burning it. When the venison was done to a turn, not charred black, Jeff took a
cautious bite but burned his tongue anyway. For the first time he noticed how
flat the meat tasted and sprinkled it with a light dusting of salt.
“Not
much left,” Jeff muttered, hefting the salt container. “Without salt this diet
could really get old, quick.”
That
kicked off a chain of associations. Okay, he thought, let’s accept that at the
very least you’re no longer in the Cascades. I’m here, wherever that is, and
nothing is
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