Space, The Vinyl Frontier

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. However, if you listen close, you can hear a whisper, or a whimper, or some small vestige of a life that is in peril. Besides, which one garners the most attention, an earth, shattering scream, or the spine- tingling lilt of a faint cry in the dark, wanting, waiting, longing to be heard. Donavan Baker was experiencing the whole gamut of emotions on this, his maiden, and possibly, final voyage through space. Donavan spent the previous few minutes traveling at just over 17,000 mph through space, spending the majority of his trip reflecting on his past, and the necessity to leave earth; but he knew that he had to devote some of his concentration on his destination. A destination that gave more pause than promise. Well, there was the promise that whatever he discovered in this new world, it would be up to him, alone, to navigate its' intricacies.

Donavan was looking forward to landing his spacecraft; if for no other reason than to abandon the weightless atmosphere that he was forced to endure throughout the course of this trip. Floating around in zero gravity was a neat experience, but only for so long. Gravity was that tried, and true friend, the one you've known forever, but only called on rare occasions; like on that death defying roller coaster with the triple loops and suspending you upside down at about 200 feet in the air. Where are you my dear friend, sorry I only call you when I am in distress. As that coaster returns to its' stopping point, and you step back on solid ground, you think, okay, there you are my friend, I've missed you. Please don't leave me again, at least no time soon. Donavan looked forward to stepping outside of the spaceship, despite his apprehension about the unknown. As the aircraft landed with an ample thud, he knew the moment of truth was upon him. After landing, the ship was not the only thing that came to a sudden stop; Donavan rapidly fell to the floor of the ship. He celebrated his somewhat, successful landing with a loud proclamation. "Hello gravity, my old friend, it is nice to make your acquaintance again." Donavan picked himself up, and checked inventory to assess any damages to his person. He couldn't fully determine that of the ship until he could make his way outside. Apparently, the abrupt landing somehow affected the door, causing it to be unable to open. This led to a critical decision that Donavan had to make, if he were to break the window out, his spacecraft would no longer be operable, due to the inability to maintain cabin pressure. Donavan realized he would have to decide soon, it became obvious the environment that he had landed in was not conducive to long term survival in its' current state. He had landed amongst tremendous trees that were smoldering, and being viciously consumed by embers; his initial thought was that he landed in hell, but he didn't see his ex-wife, so he dismissed that hypothesis. What he was sure of is that his survival rate was very low if he stayed inside this vessel. Donavan clawed feverishly through his survival tools until he came across the one he was looking for, a hammer made specifically to break through the glass and allow his escape; freeing him from his enclosure, but insuring him that there was no turning back. Donavan took one final look out the window as he made his life altering decision. Upon looking out, he caught a faint glimpse of a shadowy figure moving rapidly amongst the debris. He searched frantically to try and identify the fast- moving object that was lurking in the dark, he came to the conclusion that out in the abyss could possibly move as fast as his imagination was, nor be quite as sinister. Regardless of his apprehension, Donavan surmised that, just sitting there and doing nothing was tantamount to just giving up; in essence, baking in his own personal Dutch oven. Donavan wielded the hammer high above his head and began to methodically pound at the window. After what felt like an eternity to him, the glass finally relented and allowed Donavan to make his escape. He cautiously eased himself down the side of the space ship; as he dropped to the ground, a slight tweak of his left ankle caused him to let out an audible refrain, which in turn caused some rustling noise behind some bushes that had yet to be consumed by flames. Donavan looked with great concern in the direction from which the noise had occurred; knowing that having to defend himself or run, was made a bit more difficult with his recent ankle contusion. He arose from his crouched position and limped slowly towards where he had heard the disturbance. Even with his limited mobility he felt compelled to attack any dangers head on. Limping more noticeably to the wilting brush, Donavan could hear the activity beyond it, become more pronounced; as did Donavans' anxiety. Throwing caution to the smoke- filled wind, Donavan leapt into the brush with a partially scorched stick he picked up, with a reckless abandon. "Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!" Donavan's enthusiasm was met with a less audible, but equally effective reception. Donavan lay on the ground screaming at the top of his lungs because he had come face to tail with a frightened skunk, and his face received the brunt of the interaction. Donavan was stretched out on the ground, kicking and screaming in pain, from head to ankle. It seems that wiping at the skunks' excretions only made the pain more intense. The skunk, well, he seemed no worse for the wear. After a few minutes of nursing his wounds, Donavan was able to recuperate to the point where he could at least make his way to his knees. Despite the pain, Donavan would have to make his way to a safer location, because the fires were beginning to close in from all sides; and maybe his eyes were still a bit blurry, but what he saw in the distance, concerned him much more than the flames. Donavan saw a figure walking in his direction, wearing a masked, helmet apparatus, carrying an axe. Donavan's mind told him that he should run, but his ankle was telling him, escape was futile; even if his ankle would allow it, his limited vision would probably lead him directly into a tree. The helmeted entity moved closer towards Donavan, as his adrenaline makes him forget about the pain in his ankle. He rises to his feet, placing the bulk of his weight on his right ankle. The mysterious stranger stands before Donavan and raises his axe in the air; causing Donavan to place his hands over his head and cower, as the only defense mechanism he can muster. "Please, please, don't hurt me!" As Donavan screams to the entity for mercy, he drops back to his knees and begins to sob. The stranger tilts his head back and forth, as if he is trying to comprehend what Donavan is saying. He wields his axe high above his head as Donavan continues to sob and prepare for the worst. There is an obvious language barrier, and the stranger attempts to solve it..... by removing his helmet. "Hey, sir, you can't be here, this park is closed!" Donavan stops his sobbing and looks up at the stranger in amazement. "Park, what do you mean, park?" The stranger responds immediately to Donovan's inquiry. "Yea, park, Sequoia National Park, it's closed because of the wildfires!"