Your Turn
3. February 24, 2021
It was approaching noon and the snow was not letting up. The apartment was warm, except for the steady, cold breeze that came through the old double hung window that would not close tight. Marcos could not sit still. He finally convinced Sarah that they needed to go out to see where the shadowy figure had gone. They could retrace their steps, and then let Ginger lead the way. He just could not articulate what they were looking for! It could be a wild goose chase. Sarah thought that if they spent an hour or so out in the blizzard, they could come home and snuggle for the rest of the day. Her works days have been long and stressful. There seemed to be an influx of homeless people with all kinds of medical problems that could not be easily cured, to say nothing of their emotional and psychological issues that made treatment even more difficult. There were just not enough resources to care for the people who needed it most.
So off they went into the wild, wild white. Each step sinking until the snow was up on the shin. Ginger was off the leash, bounding recklessly through the drifts. This was much more fun for him that it was for Sarah. Marcos just seemed to focus on what was ahead. Ginger stopped at the edge of the forest, and barked. The howl carried through the air and sounded louder and more aggressive than his normal bark. His tail stopped, his nose went up, sniffing the cold wind, and the hair on the nape of his neck stood up. Marcos called for him to stay, but within a flash, Ginger was pushing through the deep snow an heavy brush. This was not Sarah's idea of a fun romp in the snow. They followed the dog as best they could stumbling on logs, pushing branches aside, trying to catch up. Ginger had stopped but was not barking. They could see a flicker of flame up ahead, like this may have been a campsite. Marcos was sure it belonged to the figure he had seen that morning. Sarah said they should get the dog and head back. She was afraid of what they may find.
Within the small clearing, the few remaining branches on the fire were smoldering. There were a few empty cans and some other trash off to one side, and what looked like a lean-to made of tree branches, now covered with snow. Inside were several blankets, a pair of gym shoes, and a brown leather duffle bag. It was partially opened, and a few books were falling out of the side. It looked almost as if someone had unzipped the bag, grabbed something, and left in a hurry. Ginger sniffed the garbage, and found half of a hot dog bun, mustard included. Marcos was trying to get the leash on him, but he would not stay still. Sarah was focused on the bag. She has seen it before, last week, in the hospital. It came in with a bearded old man who had difficulty breathing. She was not assigned to his room, but for some reason she noticed the bag. She recalls having that same thought that night at the hospital, that she had seen it before. She wanted to open it more to see what was inside. Instead, she just glanced at the luggage tag. The name had been crossed out, and the only legible word was Ohio. How did he get here? Why?
Marcos got a hold of Ginger and said "Let's get out of here!" As he turned, she noticed the hacks of blood in the new fallen snow. She remembered his cough, how deep and harsh it sounded coming out of the room across the hall. She was tempted to try and follow what may be left of footsteps and globs of blood, but that would take her deeper into the woods. A cold wind blew a chill down here spine. Marcos was already heading back the way they had came, but something held her there, for seconds that seemed like hours. Her mind racing in so many directions that she could barely stand. Dreams, memories, stories, and make believe events swirled in a confused mist. Where was she, how did she get here? Why?
Marcos yelled again that they should go home. She turned and said aloud, "There is more to this story."
It was approaching noon and the snow was not letting up. The apartment was warm, except for the steady, cold breeze that came through the old double hung window that would not close tight. Marcos could not sit still. He finally convinced Sarah that they needed to go out to see where the shadowy figure had gone. They could retrace their steps, and then let Ginger lead the way. He just could not articulate what they were looking for! It could be a wild goose chase. Sarah thought that if they spent an hour or so out in the blizzard, they could come home and snuggle for the rest of the day. Her works days have been long and stressful. There seemed to be an influx of homeless people with all kinds of medical problems that could not be easily cured, to say nothing of their emotional and psychological issues that made treatment even more difficult. There were just not enough resources to care for the people who needed it most.
So off they went into the wild, wild white. Each step sinking until the snow was up on the shin. Ginger was off the leash, bounding recklessly through the drifts. This was much more fun for him that it was for Sarah. Marcos just seemed to focus on what was ahead. Ginger stopped at the edge of the forest, and barked. The howl carried through the air and sounded louder and more aggressive than his normal bark. His tail stopped, his nose went up, sniffing the cold wind, and the hair on the nape of his neck stood up. Marcos called for him to stay, but within a flash, Ginger was pushing through the deep snow an heavy brush. This was not Sarah's idea of a fun romp in the snow. They followed the dog as best they could stumbling on logs, pushing branches aside, trying to catch up. Ginger had stopped but was not barking. They could see a flicker of flame up ahead, like this may have been a campsite. Marcos was sure it belonged to the figure he had seen that morning. Sarah said they should get the dog and head back. She was afraid of what they may find.
Within the small clearing, the few remaining branches on the fire were smoldering. There were a few empty cans and some other trash off to one side, and what looked like a lean-to made of tree branches, now covered with snow. Inside were several blankets, a pair of gym shoes, and a brown leather duffle bag. It was partially opened, and a few books were falling out of the side. It looked almost as if someone had unzipped the bag, grabbed something, and left in a hurry. Ginger sniffed the garbage, and found half of a hot dog bun, mustard included. Marcos was trying to get the leash on him, but he would not stay still. Sarah was focused on the bag. She has seen it before, last week, in the hospital. It came in with a bearded old man who had difficulty breathing. She was not assigned to his room, but for some reason she noticed the bag. She recalls having that same thought that night at the hospital, that she had seen it before. She wanted to open it more to see what was inside. Instead, she just glanced at the luggage tag. The name had been crossed out, and the only legible word was Ohio. How did he get here? Why?
Marcos got a hold of Ginger and said "Let's get out of here!" As he turned, she noticed the hacks of blood in the new fallen snow. She remembered his cough, how deep and harsh it sounded coming out of the room across the hall. She was tempted to try and follow what may be left of footsteps and globs of blood, but that would take her deeper into the woods. A cold wind blew a chill down here spine. Marcos was already heading back the way they had came, but something held her there, for seconds that seemed like hours. Her mind racing in so many directions that she could barely stand. Dreams, memories, stories, and make believe events swirled in a confused mist. Where was she, how did she get here? Why?
Marcos yelled again that they should go home. She turned and said aloud, "There is more to this story."