Hide and Seek

Stop. Breathing. So. Hard. JoAnn breathed each word slowly, trying not to make a sound. She had slid into the secret hole dug out at the base of a massive tree with some exposed roots. She knew if she drew attention to herself, she would be discovered. And that would be worse than bad. Jo thought things were getting dicey when the power grid got hacked last month, but at thirteen years old she had no idea how bad it was going to get. Daddy had told her to find a hiding spot in the woods “just in case.” She now understood as she listened for her pursuers and squinted through the roots.

“Jo-Jo! Oh Jo-Jo! Come out, come out wherever you are! Come on Jo-Jo! Let’s play!”

“Shut up, Greg. How are we supposed to hear anything with you yelling?”

“Piss off, idiot. Ain’t you ever heard of psychological warfare?”

Tommy realized he hadn’t. But whatever. At least he knew the woods better than Greg. And he knew enough to bring a flashlight unlike that city boy.

___________________________________________________

Jo checked her bag. Daddy said to seal up some snacks in a plastic bag and pack some water. Then he had handed Jo her birthday present: A Glock G44 .22 LR pistol. She had plenty of practice with Daddy’s .22 rifle plinking squirrels, especially when food was tight. But the look in Daddy’s eye this time was not gratitude for food – it was fear of people heading out to the farms to escape the hell of the cities. She had just brought this bag out here a couple weeks ago and hid it in the hole. And now she was kneeling halfway on it trying not to move. Greg and Tommy were headed right for her, making their way along the rocky side of the creek.

Breathe. Slowly. Do. Not. Move. Jo’s legs were aching to change positions. Sweat and dirt dripped down her face making her cuts sting. They were close enough now that she could tell that they were talking, although she couldn’t make out every word.

“…’cause I said so, that’s why. Now go head up that side and see if you can flush out the girl.”

“She probably ain’t up there. Her daddy – “

Greg smacked Tommy in the back of the head. “I don’t give a crap about her daddy. We are getting … and taking … Warlord.”

Tommy scowled at Greg and headed higher into the wood. All he wanted was the food promised for bringing her in. He didn’t care about the Warlord or the power trip he was on. He could go all Hunger Games if it made him feel better. The only reason people listened to him was because he had the most guns. People like that sniveling city boy Greg.

Jo watched Tommy scamper up the hill and out of sight. But now Greg had slowed and was eyeing the ground. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Slowly he edged along the creek before sitting on a large rock. Jo could smell the lingering smoke and wanted to cough. She could feel her throat wanting to clear and tucked her head into the crook of her arm. Greg stood up and began walking toward the tree. Jo held her breath. Can he see me? Did I make a sound? Greg’s shoes were now right in front of her. She probably could’ve tied his shoelaces together. She rolled her eyes upward trying to see. Suddenly Greg’s jogging pants were on the ground around his ankles. Jo closed her eyes as Greg urinated on the tree. It’s just pee. Do. Not. Move. There are worse things than being peed on.

Greg pulled up his pants and started back toward the rocks when a glint caught his eye. Being a city boy, Greg had never heard, much less seen, a rattlesnake before. He was oblivious up until the very moment he picked up the gold heart-shaped locket, dropping it just as quickly as the fangs of the pit viper sank into his hand. “YAAAAAHHHHH! SNAAAAAKE!” yelled Greg as he tried to pull the snake off and run at the same time. The venom quickly reached his heart and in a few painful moments the bully from back east fell face first into the creek.

Rattle snake sound / YouTube Channel Nature Magazine

Jo froze in place, barely letting herself breathe – and scarcely believing the stupidity that just unfolded in front of her. It was getting dark quickly now, and Tommy surely heard Greg scream. Jo listened intently a few moments. Lots of crickets and other night sounds filled the air, and on any other summer night Jo would be thrilled with the fireflies lighting off and the owls hooting. But not tonight. Squirming her pre-pubescent body out of the tree hole, she quietly grabbed her bag and padded as softly as she could toward where Greg met the rattler. Finding the locket lodged in a small crevice, Jo carefully lifted it out by the chain with a stick and put it back in her pocket.

Something was moving in the woods, and rather quickly by the sound of it. Jo looked up the hill beyond her hiding place and suddenly three deer came racing down the trail. Then much higher on the slope was the greater danger – a light. And it was making its way down to the creek.

Jo started to run the opposite direction of the light – but stopped. Check the body. Jo quickly patted Greg’s pockets. A lighter and a hunting knife in a sheath – obviously, the knife was stolen given that Greg was clueless about the woods and nature in general – but a good find, nonetheless. Jo moved as quickly and quietly as she dared in the darkness. Having played out here for as long as she could remember, Jo knew she was still following an old gas well road that would eventually lead to a side road and then the main road. How many more creeps are looking for me?

Jo looked back down the gas well road – the light was still coming. Not much time. Jo thought about hiding in the new culvert that the town installed to direct the creek under the road for better flood management. It was certainly big enough to crawl in. If I were a creepy guy, I’d look in there. But – the old culvert where the creek used to run was never removed. It was just half filled with mud and had a lot of weeds hiding it from view. Perfect.

Taking care not to flatten the weeds, Jo squeezed into the old culvert feet first, then used her elbows to push herself further in, keeping her bag in front of her head. She had a good view of the light, and it was getting closer and closer. Please God, don’t let there be any critters in here… She could hear the footfalls now with the light. He stopped. The light passed side to side. Something moved in the weeds nearby and suddenly the light was right on her – she could feel the eyes of her hunter looking…looking. He drew closer to his quarry. Don’t scream. Don’t move. Breathe. Again movement, so very close – stomping, hissing… “Ughhh! Dammit!” The light dropped to the ground. Jo could make out the guy clutching his eyes and still cursing. Then she smelled why. Oh yeah – skunk stink to the eyeballs.

Tommy wanted to die. He was crawling now, crying, and wanting to rip his own eyeballs from their sockets. He dropped his flashlight somewhere and if it was still on, he wasn’t seeing it. Jo shimmied out of the culvert and crawled over to the light, shutting it off. Tommy didn’t seem to notice. He was feeling his way and making it onto the road. Just then, Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

“Hey this is Tommy. Come back.” The walkie-talkie crackled.

“Go, Tommy.”

“Uh yeah. Greg is dead and I think I’m blind. Can someone pick me up?”

Jo slipped her shoes off and made her way behind Tommy. No way could she run from more hunters. Rock in hand, she raised it above her head.

“What’s your location, Tommy?” He never got the chance to answer.

Blood spurted from the back of Tommy’s head, and he went limp. Oh Lord! I didn’t think I hit him that hard! Now in full survival mode, Jo grabbed the radio, turned it off and checked Tommy’s pockets. Nothing but a piece of paper with three names on it – and one of them was hers. The other two names were girls she knew and went to school with, and their names had checkmarks next to them. Jo checked the back of the paper: Walter Smithton Park. That’s where a tent city was set up after the grid went down. It might also be the last place they’d look for me.

Jo checked her gear: Mud got in the barrel of her .22 pistol and half the ammo spilled out somewhere. A bottle of water, a Snickers® bar, beef jerky, and dried apple still sealed in a bag. Greg’s lighter and knife. Tommy’s flashlight and walkie-talkie. Her locket.

Jo traveled at night, going through woods and cornfields where she could. As she came to the railroad tracks that run parallel to the park, she saw tents, teepees, and other makeshift shelters sprawling across four blocks. Jo pulled out the walkie-talkie and put it on low volume.

“…Yeah, roger that we just found the body. No sign of the girl. Returning to camp.”

“Copy. Be advised the Warlord just shot another food server for bringing in peanut butter. Remind your people not to eat that stuff or bring it into his tent.”

“Understood. Patrol out.”

Jo hid her bag on the railroad bridge, leaving everything in it except the food which she jammed into her pockets. Sliding into the shadows, she worked her way toward a large teepee. Only women seemed to be going in and out of it. A group of men were going from tent to tent doing some sort of check. When they got far enough away, Jo slid into the teepee. Jo put a finger to her lips signaling all to stay quiet. More men walked by. An elderly woman whispered, “You can’t be here, child. You must hide until it’s safe and then flee.” She grabbed Jo’s arm and guided her to the back of the teepee. The women covered her with blankets and pillows, trying to hide her. Just then, another guard came in.

“Everyone out for a head count!”

Every woman filed out. Don’t move. Breathe slow. When the teepee was empty, Jo grabbed the Snickers® bar from her pocket and quickly bit off a couple pieces and chewed them – but didn’t swallow. The guard came back in. He began throwing everything outside the tent. Jo froze.

“Well, what do we have here?” said the guard and grabbing Jo by the hair. Another guard zip-tied her hands together before they both dragged her to the Warlord’s tent.

He was a hulk of a man, intimidating in every way. No person met his gaze, including Jo. He dismissed the guards and pulled Jo’s face close to his. “Who are you?” Jo mumbled incoherently. He pulled her even closer. “I said, who are you?!” JoAnne looked up and spit all the chewed Snickers® peanuts into the Warlord’s eyes, nose, and gaping mouth.

Cursing, coughing and spitting, he threw Jo to the ground, but it was too late. His throat began to swell. Breathing was labored. JoAnne knelt down and put her face right up to his face.

“Greg, Tommy, and the so-called Warlord. Game. Set. Match.”