Counting Peaches

Being a park ranger means dealing with a lot of monotony, but I don’t mind it one bit. In fact I prefer it. The secluded life in the woods far away from all the noise, hustle, and bustle of the city is worth it. For a lot of people it’s the isolation that keeps them away from the job, but I’ve found that it helps to have a tight schedule, something to focus on. On my first day I didn’t think I’d last a week, but after a few days I settled into a routine. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.

Everyday I wake up at exactly 6:58 am. I wait for my alarm to beep twelve times and then I turn it off, get out of bed, and head to the kitchen. I then go into the cupboard on the right side of the sink and take out my coffee grounds. I don’t have a particular brand of coffee grounds I enjoy, but it does have to be exactly one and a half teaspoons. Only one teaspoon and I’m groggy throughout my morning, two teaspoons and I get twitchy and jumpy. One and a half teaspoons is the perfect amount to keep me awake and alert. While my coffee brews I spend my time solving a crossword puzzle. Since my watchtower is in the middle of the park there is no way for me to receive the newspaper, so once every six months when I get my resupply of canned food, I request that they bring me crossword puzzle books, and every six months I find a new box of puzzles sitting on the right side of the door. I only ever do the horizontal ones, never the vertical ones. The vertical ones are odd numbers and I do not like odd numbers. The horizontal ones are always even numbers and I very much like even numbers. Only doing the even numbers also leaves me with just enough time to finish and retrieve my coffee right when it’s done brewing. After my coffee is done brewing I then add sugar, sweetener, and then salt. Always in that order. When I lived in the city I had to stop ordering from coffee shops because even when I specifically asked them to put it in that order, they would mess it up by adding something in the wrong order. It absolutely has to be in that order. If it's not sugar, sweetener, and then salt, it messes up my stomach and is undrinkable. But here in my tower I get to make my own coffee exactly the way I like it. While I’m drinking my coffee I fill out my name and the dates for all of my papers that I use throughout the day. After I'm done with my papers I wash out my mug, put it back on the shelf to the right of the sink, and then I get a can of peaches from the pantry that’s on the left side of the sink. Since I need both hands to eat I don’t do anything else during my breakfast except count the peaches in the can. Each can contains eight peaches. I have been eating canned peaches for breakfast everyday for one thousand and seventy four days, which translates into two years and three hundred and forty four days, and everyday I count eight peaches.

Today I woke up at 6:58 a.m, waited for my alarm to beep 12 times, grabbed my mug from the cupboard on the right side of the shelf, added one and a half teaspoons of coffee grounds to the coffee machine, grabbed a crossword puzzle from the right side of the door, completed all of the horizontal crosswords, added sugar, sweetener, and then salt to my coffee, finished my coffee, finished filling out the names and dates of my papers, washed out my mug, put it on the shelf to the right of the sink, and then went into the pantry to the left side of the sink to grab a can of peaches.

Each day when I count the peaches in the pantry I find out if today is going to be a good morning or a bad morning. By that I mean I find out if I have an even number of cans left or an odd number of cans left. Since yesterday was a good morning, I knew today would be a bad morning. I counted twenty one cans inside of the pantry. During my first year this would have been a bad day, but after five hundred and thirty seven days of having an odd number of peaches inside the cabinet I grew accustomed to it. So today would only be a bad morning. After closing the pantry I set down the can on the counter to the right of the sink, opened the drawer that's also on the right side of the sink and took out the can opener and a fork. After opening the can I put the can opener back in the drawer and sat down at my table to eat.

I dipped my fork into the can pulling out a single peach and chewed it twice, then swallowed.

For the second peach I chewed twice more and swallowed.

I despise the number three. So instead I stabbed two peaches with my fork and chewed four times and then swallowed.

It was okay to eat five peaches, because even though it’s an odd number, it isn’t the number three. So I chewed that one two times and swallowed it too.

I was at six peaches now, two more and I’d be done with breakfast. I chewed twice again and swallowed.

The seventh peach didn’t taste as sweet as the others. None of the odd ones ever did. But in order for there to be an even number of peaches in the can there has to be odd numbers, even if it means having the number three. I ate this peach the fastest by chewing twice quickly and swallowing it.

I chewed the eighth peach twice, but this time I did not swallow, instead I choked on it, eyes frozen on the can that sat in front of me. There were more peaches left inside of it. I wanted to scream but air did not dare leave my lungs. I was paralyzed, I do not know how long I sat there staring at the can, but eventually I began trying to rationalize to myself: Maybe there are ten peaches in the can, yes ten peaches, ten peaches is good, ten peaches is very good, please be ten peaches. But I was too afraid to peek into the can itself, let alone count them. Instead I dipped my fork in and pulled out one peach. It was disgusting and slimy as it slid down my throat. Then, with my arm shaking, I reached for the can. I grabbed it, making prayers so quietly and quickly that they couldn’t even be heard by whatever deity sat on the other end of them. With one eye closed I flinched as I peered inside the can, and was met with instant relief. There was only one peach left within the dark orange juices that filled it. I started panting, trying to catch my breath, it had been held in ever since I swallowed the cursed ninth peach. I turned my attention to the clock on the right side of my bed. 7:28 it read, I was thirteen minutes behind schedule. Quickly I put the tenth peach in my mouth chewing twice as I got up to wash my fork. I pushed my chair in hard, but fast because I did not want to be late, and as I headed for the sink I heard the metal sound of the can toppling over and when I turned around, I watched in horror as the eleventh peach came pouring out of the can.

When I woke up I hoped it all had been a dream, but it was not, for I found myself sleeping on the hard wooden floor. When I turned to my left side I immediately vomited out of both fear and disgust. Not even a foot away from me sat the eleventh peach. I jumped backwards, crawling all the way to the far right corner of the room. My heart beating so hard I thought it’d burst from my chest, as I sat in the corner, poised like a caged animal, I rapidly began counting by twos, never once averting my gaze from the peach, but the longer I stared at it, the faster I counted, and I counted and counted and counted faster until I screamed. I had my head in my hands when I began to think about the schedule. The schedule, yes the schedule it was the only thing I had left, the only thing to keep me together. I turned to the clock to check the time. 8:33pm. When I read that I was ready to pass out a second time. I had to leave now! Never in one thousand and seventy four days had I been late on the schedule, and today was not going to be the day I was late, I would not let the peach win, but I could not leave at 8:33. I would not move until the time changed, in fact I could not move, not until it was 8:34. I had one minute to think about how I could catch up on schedule. In order to do so I would have to either do certain things very quickly or negate them entirely. However I hated this thought. I hated the idea of having to leave things out or not take my time and do them carefully because I always did these things, I have always done these things everyday for one thousand and seventy four days and whenever I did I always counted the time, taking an even number of minutes on each task. But today I would not allow myself to get any further behind. Today I would not shower for eight minutes. I would not get to brush my teeth for six minutes the way I liked, brushing each tooth 4 four times. I would not even get to spend 4 minutes brushing my hair twenty four times. These things however were just part of my routine, not necessary duties that pertained to my schedule. I would negate all of these things, but not the duties that I still had left in the tower. I had two things on my schedule that were duties, one of them was to sit on top of the balcony and watch for fires. I spent fourteen minutes on this task, and each day I would not see a fire, not even the smoke from a campfire. In fact I had never seen a camper, or even a hiker, I had never seen anyone else in the park since my first day, but I did know they were here because they would leave me canned food and my puzzles once every six months. I would allow this duty two minutes since I found it to be the least important duty. My second duty inside of my tower was to bring up the fire rope. The fire rope is a fire retardant rope that attaches to the balcony of the tower. Every night before I sleep I let the fire rope down. In the event of a fire I am to use the fire rope to climb down off of my tower and wait safely at the bottom for help to arrive. In the mornings I am to pull the rope back up so that no one can climb into my tower. I allow this task eight minutes because the rope is very long and after I pull it up I like to wrap it around the railing twelve times. Today I would not get to do that, today I would have to pull it up very quickly and not take the time to wrap it. I switched my gaze from the balcony back to the clock where I got ready to run. The clock struck 8:34 and I took off to the balcony.

When I arrived at the balcony I had the beautiful idea to do both things at once, and very quickly began pulling up the rope while I looked over the tower for fires. I had gotten the rope up within the two minute time, but I would only be left with a couple of seconds to wrap it around the rail, so I did not wrap it. Instead I waited. I dropped it in a wadded tangle of mess on the balcony and ran through my room, past the left side of the table, opposite the peach, closed the door and kept running all the way down the stairs. I ran and ran and kept running through the woods where I’d usually walk, but this was no time to walk, I was still thirty six minutes behind schedule, and if I walked now then that gap would not decrease, but instead I’d be thirty six minutes behind for the entire day, and this I simply could not allow. I had to make it to the pond that was a four hour walk away. Everyday I’d time myself with my wristwatch, making sure I’d get there in exactly four hours, slowing or picking up my pace along the way making sure I’d get there at that exact time. But today I would have no such luxury, I would have to keep running until I had made up for all the lost time. So that's what I did. I figured if I ran at twice the speed I walked, then I would only have to run for sixteen minutes. As I ran down the trails I set a timer on my watch for eighteen minutes, waited for it to beep twelve times and then took a two minute breather. My only duty left until I got to the pond was to keep an eye out for hikers, campers, hunters, or fishermen and let them know that this section of the park was for no such activities. Like I said before though, I had never seen another person in this park, and while I usually took this duty very seriously, today I would not. Today I was tired from all the running, I never ran anywhere, I always walked, counting the minutes to my destination. Now here I stood with my hands on my knees catching my breath, wishing I had not left my water bottle at the tower. I stared at the trail that sat ahead of me, it looked longer than it did before and I cursed it for doing so. I looked down at my watch to check if it had been two minutes, and that's when I heard a metallic clanging ahead of me. I froze. I wasn’t alone.

Ahead of me was a man wearing a feathered hat, hauling a large backpack that sported pans and cantines that changed against each other with every step that he took. My hair started to stand on end, not only because this was the only person I had seen in over two years, but because he wasn’t walking towards me. No, he was walking away, the same way I was headed… but- but that didn’t make any sense, I hadn’t seen or heard him walk past me, and the trail had been empty two seconds prior when I looked down at my watch. I rubbed my eyes to make sure that he was real, but when I opened them again the only thing that changed was that he was slightly farther down the trail. I cleared my throat, damn it was dry. A soft “H-hey” managed to squeeze through. But the man must not have heard me because he did not stop walking. I started to walk after him, “Hey!” I shouted. This time I knew he chose to ignore me. “Hey, I just need some water!” I shouted again, picking up my pace. The only reply came from his cantines, sloshing with water and clanging faster as he too began to pick up his pace. This time I screamed at him, filled with anger “You’re not supposed to be here!” That’s when he started jogging and I began to jog after him until we were both running and then sprinting through the trails. Never once did he look back, and never once did I slow down until I was certain this was the fastest I had ever run before, but the gap never shortened. He was always the same exact distance from me from when I started walking. Trees turned into green and brown blurs, and the only sound to be heard was my heart beating into my skull. I wanted to yell at him again, but the only air in my lungs was being forfeit to keep this speed. That’s when my watch began to beep again, I lost all sense of concentration on the trail, my foot sank into an uneven patch of dirt and I toppled to the ground before my head smacked firmly into a rock.

I awoke once again to the sound of my alarm going off. I sat up at the twelfth beep, but before I could turn it off, it beeped once more. Thirteen beeps. I checked it, to see why it had been beeping in the first place, I wiped the dried blood from the screen, and then I began to cry. That was the alarm for when I was supposed to get to the pond. I had been unconscious for exactly three hours. The crying made my head hurt, which only made me cry more. It stung and ached and throbbed until I was sure it would burst. When I cried out all the water left in my body, I started walking down the trail again. I would complete the schedule if it killed me, and if I saw that guy again, I’d fucking kill him. But I didn’t. I was alone on the trail. I followed his footprints, which only led to the spot where I’d last seen him, and then they were gone. Only thing left in the mud was the feather he kept in his hat. I stomped on it without thinking, which sent pain all the way up my leg. I probably twisted it, I wasn’t a doctor though. All I knew was that it was hurt and I couldn’t walk on it like I did before. After I finished with today I’d head back to the tower, radio in what had happened, and they’d send someone to help me, maybe even take me home. When I thought about this though, I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to go home, I didn’t remember what home was like, all I could remember was my schedule, my routine, that was my life. I couldn’t even remember- jesus christ- I couldn’t even remember my name. This train of thought stopped when I got to the fork in the trail. At the fork I always went right, I preferred things that were to the right. But as I stood there, staring at the right side of the fork, there was a sign that read “TRAIL CLOSED; PLEASE USE LEFT TRAIL.” I looked past the sign and saw that the entire path was blocked off by a landslide. At this I started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and I was laughing so hard I fell on the ground holding at my side. I laughed until tears came strolling down my face, and until I only wheezed. Nothing about today would be right, because it was all left! I began laughing again, rolling on the ground, caking my uniform in mud to match the blood that stained it. After an appropriate amount of time, I crawled to my feet, wiped the tears from my eyes, and shambled down the left side trail, chuckling to myself the entire time.

When I reached the pond I fell over onto the bank and dunked my head into the water. I gulped down as much water as I could, clean or not be damned. I came back up, gasping for air and collapsed on my back, staring at the small patch of clear sky that isn't blocked by trees, and then I checked my watch and was met with almost immediate clarity. It was 2:28pm. The trail on the left side was almost half as long as the one I’d been taking this entire time. I was only two hours and twenty eight minutes behind schedule. This was salvageable. I could do this, it wouldn’t be to the gold standard I usually do it to, but it could be done and on time. I sat up promptly and withdrew my notepad from my left pocket. Flicked through an even amount of pages that weren’t soaked in mud or blood, and limped as quickly as I could over to where the fishing traps were.

At the pond, my job is to count the number of fish in each trap, write down the numbers and species of the fish, clear the pond of any trash, and then let the fish go back inside of the pond. This task takes me fifty two minutes, because I like to be thorough and recount all of the fish twice, circle the pond for trash four times, reset the traps, and set up the decoys so that no birds try to eat the fish once they’re trapped. I usually stick around for an extra twelve minutes to scare off any birds just in case, but today I would not care about the rest of these things. Tomorrow I would not be making my rounds, I would be taken care of by a doctor until I was stable enough to resume my job, and I’d be back doing everything exactly the way it should be. I quickly scanned the pond to see if there was any trash, and just like it has been for one thousand and seventy four days, it was free of trash. I then moved from fish trap to fish trap jotting down the numbers and species, but I only counted once and did not set up any decoys. I would not reset the traps today either, for that would be the problem of whoever replaced me for the time being. I was at my final trap when I caught a glimpse of something out of my peripheral. I looked up to see an owl perched high upon a tree limb.

Owls were not native to this park, or even to this state. It was probably someone’s pet owl who had escaped and flown to the park in search of rodents and wooded areas to nest. How irresponsible, I thought. Just one Owl could off all order inside the park, that’s how invasive species start after all, just one rogue pet and suddenly the entire food chain is ruined. I stared at it, it cocked its head and hoo’d twice. I felt calmer by its presence after that, I thought about all the ways I could catch it, so that it couldn’t disturb anything else in the park. In fact, it was close enough for me to take one of the fishing nets and catch it without hurting it. But that would cost me time, time I didn’t have, so instead I went back to counting the bluegill that were in the last fishing trap. Fourteen bluegill, I wrote into my notepad. But while I was writing the owl swooped down and grabbed one of the fish, dismembering it on its branch before hooing once, then twice then three times and finally flying away with its stolen goods. Angrily I yelled at it before it flew out of sight, and then I scribbled out where I wrote fourteen and wrote thirteen instead. As I was writing one of it’s feathers gently floated down landing on my notebook. I jerked back in disgust, trying to rid myself of that vile things disease ridden feather. As I did something else caught my eye. Stuck to the bottom of my boot was the feather from before, the feather from the man’s hat on trail. Using a leaf, making sure not to touch, I plucked it from my mood covered boots, and dipped it into the water. When I took it out of the water, my heart sank. The two feathers were the same. Both a dark brown and white, and both owl feathers.

Quickly I began to rationalize: the owl must be the man’s pet, yes yes, it’s his pet and he didn’t want to be distracted while looking for it, so he never turned around, and he must’ve seen it because that’s why he started running. He was running after his owl, and all the shouting I was doing was spooking it which is why he never said anything back. I hoped he’d find and catch his owl, but not before breaking his leg, he was still the reason I was behind on the schedule. He didn’t do it intentionally, I told myself, but leading me on through a chase in the forest for a pet he shouldn’t have in the first place? He deserves a broken leg at the very least, but I won’t be the one to give it to him, I still have another job to do. With that, I freed the remaining fish, turned around and headed for the rabbits.

The rabbits were my easiest job, yet the most time consuming. They were another two hours away, however that’s only if I went on the trail. This time I would cut through the forest in order to get to their area. This type of rabbit is endangered and so it is very important that I am to keep an accurate count of their numbers and spray the area with coyote repellent, so that they are not to harm the rabbits. After a while of hiking through the woods I began to regret my decision, my leg hurt more and more with every step, and I was constantly falling over onto trees to keep myself upright. I discarded this thought and the pain as well. This was the last thing to do before I could get back to my tower and finish the rest of my routine. After I checked on the rabbits I could go back home, shower, have my can of chili, read for two hours, brush my hair another twenty four times before bed, and then sleep. In the morning I would radio in my position and help would come, and then my leg would be fixed and I would be back and better before I knew it. The rabbits were also my favorite job, I loved the rabbits. Not because they are cute like most people do, I find that to be very shallow. Instead I love the rabbits because they are always even, and much like me, are very good at multiplying, although in separate ways. Animals in general are very nice, because there are never three of them. Animals either travel in herds or in pairs, never in threes. The same goes with rabbits, but every time rabbits mate there are always an even number of offspring. Last time I saw the rabbits, there were six bunnies. Six bunnies, I kept repeating to myself as I emerged from the woods and into the meadow where they lived. I took my binoculars, rubbing the lenses free of mud, and looked over to where their tunnels were. Even though I was an hour late to the meadow, they would still be here grazing. The sun had not gone down yet, so they would not be inside their burrow. I stood there scanning frantically trying not to be any later. Usually I stare at a spot with my binoculars, count to six, and do the next spot, but now I was whipping around my binoculars at every spot of the prairie to see where they were. That’s when I saw them. That’s when I saw the male rabbit alone, standing up straight, ears perked on high alert. I had never seen the rabbits like this, even when I walked around the area noisily and clumsily, they never so much as looked in my general direction. But now something was wrong, I scanned over to see the mother rabbit, with her bunnies in tow. I frantically began to count the bunnies. One, two, three, fo-.... There was no fourth bunny, or even six. There were only three bunnies, why were there only three bunnies? All the bunnies always grazed with their mother, and there were no predators for them to worry about, not when I sprayed their area everyday. I kept looking for the other bunnies, but there were none. There were only three bunnies. Something was wrong, this was bad, this was very very bad. There can’t only be three bunnies! I exclaimed to myself. But there were only three bunnies. I started walking around the clearing to see if I could get a better vantage point, to at least see a fourth bunny. I heard something crunch under my foot, and as I moved over to see what it was, I found the other two bunnies. Both dead, both mutilated, and both half eaten.

I began running back towards my tower, it was not safe here. I could feel what was ever out there chasing me as I ran. My leg hurt worse than it did before, but I felt the adrenaline take over my body and I did not stop running until I made it back to the trail. I dove down and hid amongst a fallen tree log and waited for something. Anything. But I did not see the beast, nor did I hear it, I only felt its horrible eyes. It knew I was here, It knew I was hiding. I sprang back up to my feet and ran as fast as my bad leg could take me. Whatever was chasing me was close, and closing in faster. I ran for hours not daring to look behind me, for I knew that was the one fatal mistake it was waiting for. That’s when I heard it's terrible cry, felt it coming down on me. I dove for the ground and felt it inches from my head. I looked up to see its faint, winged silhouette, take off into the night sky.

It was night now. I had been running since sunset, and my entire body was exhausted and in pain. Slowly I clambered back to my feet. No longer could I feel the eyes of the beast, but I knew it was out there. Waiting. It wasn’t much longer until I’d reach the tower, only about an hour’s walk. I feared running might alert the beast, so I took to the shadows of the trees and crept my way back. My legs thanked me for relieving them of the constant running, and when I reached the clearing my tower sat in, I dropped to my knees and began to cry. I made it. I checked my watch and began to laugh and cry even harder. 9:02. I was on time. The schedule was saved, all that was left was to prepare for bed. I got back to my feet and shambled to the stairs, a smile on my face. I began to climb them when something dropped from the sky. It landed at my feet and sprinkled my face with blood. I looked down to see the third bunny, and I vomited in horror. Nothing about it was right, all of it odd. It had an eye plucked out, an ear and a leg ripped off, and its insides were hanging out. I began darting up the stairs, as fast as I could climb, the beast was back and ready to finish me off. Quickly I reached the top and shut the door behind me, rapidly trying to catch my breath as I did so. But the beast was not outside, it was here, inside my tower, standing right in front of me.

The owl stood on the left side of the table, beak covered in blood as it scooped up the eleventh peach and swallowed it whole. “It was you!” I cried, “It was you all along!” The owl hoo’d three times more as it flew through the open door and onto the balcony railing. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” I cried as I ran onto the balcony and-

“Jesus christ” muttered Henry Johnson as he stared at the video being played on his monitor. There was a young man, bone thin and malnourished shouting words at an empty space on the balcony of the park watchtower. Henry watched as the young man darted outside and the floorboards from beneath him gave out. Henry paused the video, before gathering himself, reminding himself that this comes with the job, and hitting play one last time to see the young man get caught in a tangle of rope that wrapped its way around his neck, before choking him to death. Henry turned off his monitor and held his head and his hands before letting out a heavy sigh. “Poor kid” he said to himself before he turned to the stack of files to the left of him. Evan Daniels, age 29, mild autism, severe OCD, it read. Originally, when Henry arrived at the watchtower where the body had been hanging for three straight weeks, he wrote it off as a suicide. But after the woman who found him, insisted Henry check the tapes, now he wished he didn’t.

“Everything ok hun?” said Henry’s wife, coming into his office to check on him.

“Yeah, no everything’s fine” said Henry taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Just uh- Just the worst case of cabin fever I’ve ever seen.”

“Is this about the boy who killed himself?”

Henry paused not knowing how to answer her. “Yeah, it’s terrible stuff” he said, ejecting the disc and throwing it away into the trash can to the right of him. “Would’ve been 30 today”

“Birthdays are always the hardest time of year” She said looking down for a moment. “Is there anywhere you want me to put this box?” She asked gesturing to a large box of crossword puzzles.

“No you can leave them right there… Let me just finish up here, and I’ll see in you in bed”

“Okay, don’t stay up too long” she said before exiting the room.

Henry turned back to the file in front of him, staring at the box titled ‘cause of death.’ He stared at it much longer than he knew he should’ve, and he came to his decision, knowing it might not be the right one. With his pencil he wrote ‘suicide,’ got up from his desk, turned the lights off in his office, and walked out of the room past the box of crossword puzzles that sat on the right side of the door, before closing it and heading to bed.