Red and Blue Lights

Red and blue lights flashed across my eyes as the officer escorted me to his vehicle. The moon and stars watched as his right hand guided me to the back end of the car while the other yanked the door handle, pulling it aside for me to enter. The darkness of the interior consumed me as I sat on the hard, plastic seat. A cage separated me from the policeman as he slid into the driver’s seat, shutting his door and revving the engine to life. I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes as the vehicle rumbled, remembering the events leading to this moment.

Camouflage is such an interesting pattern. It conceals and blends things into an outdoor background, confusing the human eye, and at the same time stands out amidst a crowd of people. It helped me keep my eyes on my Dad now as he weaved his way toward his airplane’s gate, dodging and shifting around fellow travelers. It felt as though he’d just come home only to depart a few hours after, even though he’d been able to stay a whole week—which was definitely better than just a weekend like last time. Eight years old is a young age to know your father is leaving and won’t be seeing you for a few years.

We trudged back to our white van, silently mourning Dad’s departure. Everything moved like mud—slow and melancholy. Once all of us buckled into our seats, mom set the vehicle into motion, away from the airport. I listened to the hum of the wheels churning beneath me and allowed myself to sulk. As sad as the atmosphere in the vehicle felt, I didn’t share it. Not really, anyway. Sure, I was sad Dad had to go to war, but not for the reasons most would assume. I was sad about the fact that life had to return to normal. Boring day in, day out school and chores. Whenever Dad came home, I got a break from those things and I did not wish to end that break just yet.

After another stint of silence, my mother inhaled abruptly, “I was thinking about maybe going camping for a few days?” She sniffed, rubbing moisture from her eye, “Get our minds off things for a week or so, maybe? What do you guys think?”

Hm, maybe my break didn’t have to end after all. Happiness danced its way back into my eyes, “That sounds awesome, Mama!”

Matthias, my brother who was a year younger than me, noted my enthusiasm and stole some for himself, “Yeah, I’d love that!”

Talitha, the youngest sibling at five years old and only girl out of the three of us, sighed and rubbed her nose dejectedly, “Sure.”

Mom forced a smile, merging into a lane, “Alrighty then. When we get home, you guys pack up and we’ll head out tomorrow. I was thinking we’d go to Usery Park.”

I’d never heard of Usery Park, but campsites in Arizona are almost all the same, so I didn’t really care. I was just happy to have something that’d keep me from monotony and boredom. We rarely ever went camping so this would be a special treat on its own, too.

We swiftly transitioned from home to wilderness and found a cozy area to set up our little two tent community—one large tent housed all four of us and the other we set up for no reason. I still don’t know why we set it up, but we did. When we finished putting everything up, Matthias and I set off to find something to do while mom and Talitha arranged our kitchen and living spaces.

Matthias and I decided to play on concrete parking blocks behind one of the tents. On my third try balancing on the block, I stumbled off. One of my legs found a bit of ground a few feet deeper than the land my other leg stood on. I pulled myself out and investigated further. “Matthias!” I wheezed exuberantly, “Come here!”

He shuffled off his concrete block and looked over my shoulder down into the gorge of sand in front of me, “Woah, that’s, like, a canyon or something!”

“Let’s check it out,” I suggested, hopping into it. Handheld radios hung from our necks so I figured if mom needed us she could just call on the radio.

We set off on our scientific adventure of exploration, marveling at the intricacy of the nature around us. The trees that loomed overhead from the sides of the arroyo shaded us from the evening sunlight and gave off a spooky vibe that titillated our imaginations. After twenty minutes or so, my stomach growled, and sleep tugged at my eyelids.

“We should go back,” I urged, wanting to return to our campsite.

Matthias groaned, “Ugh, just a bit more. It’s awesome out here,” he gestured to the desert shrubbery and sand surrounding us. He’d always enjoyed examining the outdoor world, overturning rocks in the hopes of discovering some fossilized cricket or snatching bees from flowers to get a closer look at the pollen stored on their legs. I didn’t share the same joy in that method of observation though. Simply observing nature from a distance satisfied me.

“Because the sun’s going down and I’d like to eat something.” I replied.

“Please, just a bit further,” he prodded in the way all younger siblings do.

Reluctantly, I agreed, “Fine,” and followed behind him. We snaked our way deeper into the desert as the sun continued to set in the distance behind Arizona’s foothills.

Another fifteen minutes passed till I finally decided it was time to go home, “Dude come on. It’s getting very dark now. We need to get back,” My persuasion skills still needed some work.

Matthias glanced up from a rock resting on his palm, fascination written over his face, “Yeah, I suppose. Mom’s probably wanting us back, too.”

“Exactly.” I turned around to face the direction we’d come from and started back. After a few minutes, my eyes squinted with confusion, “Matthias?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t see the arroyo we followed out here,” A bead of sweat wriggled out of my forehead.

He glanced around at the terrain about us, “You’re right. Where’d it go?”

“I guess it faded back into normal ground and we didn’t notice or something.” The realization that we didn’t have a reference by which to track ourselves back to camp hit me like an overturning bucket of water. My muscles tightened with panic.

“Well, I know where we need to go.” Matthias declared certainly, pointing in a direction I knew to be incorrect.

“What? That’s practically the opposite direction.”

“No, it isn’t,” he argued stubbornly. I mean, come on, what does he know? He is seven years old and I am eight.

“I highly doubt that, Matthias. We decided to go back while facing,” I pointed at the direction we were walking when I mentioned wanting to turn around, “that way. So, obviously, to go back, we need to go that way,” I paused to point in the other direction.

He pursed his lips with irritation, “Whatever, Nathaniel.”

I set off in the proper direction, gesturing for him to follow, which, to his credit, he did. At least we were staying together. We searched for the arroyo we’d first found for about forty-five minutes when mom’s concerned voice came across our radios.

“Boys, dinner’s ready. Come back right away,” my radio sputtered.

I grabbed the device, pressed its side button, and put it to my mouth, “We’re trying. I think we’re lost,” Those last four words resounded in my head. If I couldn’t find camp soon, we might have to sleep out here in the desert with nothing to eat.

“Oh, no,” it chirred, “where did you guys go?”

“We just followed a ravine type thing but now we can’t find it anymore, so we don’t know how to get home.”

Matthias and I stopped walking as we emerged from desert shrubbery, finding a black road.

Matthias groaned, “See? I told you. I knew where we were supposed to go and you didn’t.”

I turned around, heading into the opposite direction. It was now that I realized I had been wrong. But that didn’t necessarily mean Matthias was right, either.

“Well, stay where you are, I’m going to try finding you, ok?” Mom’s voice replied.

“Ok,” I replied. I desperately hoped I could lead us back to camp on my own. How good would it feel to be lost but find the path home anyway? I would be a hero.

I walked away from the road, losing sight of it amidst the desert shrubs, and headed in the new direction I felt would bring us back to camp. Matthias plodded along behind me, grumbling about how he had been right (even though now we weren’t following the direction he’d first suggested) and how we were going to die out here in the darkness of the desert. Maybe we would die out here at that. It’s not like we could protect ourselves against any dangerous creatures that found us or eat anything without poisoning ourselves.

I shook my head, shaking those thoughts from my mind, and resumed the path. The sun at this point only shared a few bits of its light, casting shadows across the terrain. Eventually, the moon took the sun’s place. We stopped traveling and decided to sit in one spot by a boulder.

My radio chirred, “Ok, the police are here and they’re going to be looking for you guys. Stay in one spot and yell as loudly as you guys can. Do you understand?”

I pressed onto its side button, “Yes ma’am, we will.” I turned to Matthias, “Mom got the police out here.”

His eyes widened, “Oh man, we really are lost.”

“Let’s start yelling,” We howled with as much vigor as we could, screaming into the darkness.

“What if we are so lost, even the police can’t find us?” Matthias wondered aloud, pausing to rest from the yelling. Yelling for ten minutes is tough.

I exhaled and sat in front of a boulder, leaning into it. What if they didn’t find us till tomorrow morning? What if we died during the night of starvation? I would never get to see Dad again. Or mom and Talitha. Even my friends. It would be useless to despair, though. That’s not what a hero does. I resolved to trust the police that they would indeed find us before the night ended.

Matthias gasped, “Did you hear that? That was somebody!”

I stood up excitedly, brushing off my pants, “What?”

“I heard a voice on the wind!”

My ear strained to listen to the slight breeze. And then, I heard it too, “Yes! I knew they’d find us!”

I yelled again, Matthias doing the same, and tried waving our arms just in case they could see us.

Then, a man dressed in a black uniform with a badge on his chest and a utility belt on his waist emerged from the dark, coming up to us. “Hey, guys. Looks like we found you. We were just about to call in a helicopter,” he smiled and leaned into a radio of his own, attached to his shoulder, “I found them. All good here.” He redirected his attention to us, pulling out some glow sticks, “Here, use these. I’ll take you guys to my car. Are you guys ok?”

I accepted my glow stick, cracking it into a bright green (my favorite color), “Yes sir. We got lost.”

“I can see that,” he laughed and turned, motioning for us to follow.

As I followed the officer out of our dusty prison, relief settled into my bones. I would see my Dad again. And this time, I wouldn’t be glad to see him only because of the fun and happiness that accompanied him, but instead because I loved him and didn’t want to live in a world without him. I’d never acknowledged the danger of death and what that really meant. My dad could die over there in the Afghanistan desert, the same way I could have died here in our Arizona desert, and I would never be able to see him again. That thought alone sent shivers of fear down my spine. I needed to support my father’s service to this country. I would be there when he returned home from war and be the first friendly American face he’d see. I would appreciate him for who he was and not just the holiday his visits brought. And eventually, he’d come home for good and I would be there for that too.

I entered the police car as directed by the officer and laid back into the seat with a smile on my face, happy to return to camp.

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