Chapter 1

I guess my granddad is about the smartest ... rather, the wisest person I know. There's a difference, you know - between smart and wise. I can say that with some authority now, because I always thought I was pretty damned smart, but I sure as hell wasn't what you'd call wise. For a long time, I couldn't see the distinction. As far as I was concerned, you either knew stuff or you didn't. I'm not saying I'm all that wise now, but I'm a lot wiser in the ways of the world than I was then.

This evolution came about the summer after I graduated from high school. Granddad and I were sitting in the back yard just talking about things in general, and he says to me, he says, "Curtis, do you really think you're ready to head off to college on your own?"

"Um, sure! I mean I graduated with honors, didn't I? I got a decent scholarship, almost a full ride. Why are you asking if I'm ready?"

He knitted his brow and said, "I don't mean like that. I know you're academically ready. You always got good grades and you were always near the top of your class, but that's not what I'm talking about. You're about to embark on a relatively independent lifestyle, and I wonder how much you truly know about life and living, being self-reliant. What do you know about what makes people tick? Hell, for that matter, how much do you know about yourself?"

It sounded like he was getting into lecture mode again. "I'm not following, Granddad. I guess I know myself better than anybody else does."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, you don't. I know you far better than you do. I see in you everything that I was sixty years ago. Look, Curtis, ever since your mom's and dad's untimely death twelve years ago, I've watched you grow up day by day. I know what you like and what you don't like. I can see the kinds of things that get you excited and I can see the kinds of things that piss you off. Sometimes, I know what's about to come out of your mouth before you even say it. And overall, I've seen pretty much normal development for a young man. What I'm not seeing is a lot of depth, a lot of maturity underneath the surface."

Well that sounded kind of insulting to me, and I was starting to get a little bit irritated with the old guy. "What? Are you saying that I'm shallow, that I'm still just a kid?"

He thought about it for a few seconds and agreed, "Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm saying. Jesus, boy, you're barely eighteen years old, you grew up in upper middle class suburbia, and so far, your whole life has been handed to you on a platter. You've never had to really fight for anything major in your life. How mature could you be under those circumstances? When I look at you, I see a vast lake covering a lot of territory, but the lake is only a couple of inches deep. That's what you need, Curtis. You need depth.

"You're about to go out into the world on your own and I wonder if you're ready for it. Oh, I'm sure you'll probably muddle through, you'll do as well as the other kids. You'll study and you'll party and you'll get drunk and have hangovers, you'll get laid and feel like you're the gods' gift to women, all that stuff. But that's all superficial, just fluff. You need to seriously explore your mind and get to know what you're really made of, and you're never going to do that walking around a manicured college campus."

Now I was getting ticked! "Oh yeah?" I snapped with all the maturity I could muster, "Well if I'm so damned shallow, why does a super-brain like you even bother to waste your time talking to me?"

I stood up to go inside. At least Grandma appreciated me.

"Curtis!" Granddad said loud enough to stop me in my tracks, "Sit down and stop acting like the child I just described! I'm about to suggest a way for you to get a jump on the maturation process; a way for you to gain some of that missing depth we've been talking about."

Well, when Granddad spoke in that tone, I listened. In all the years I'd been living with my grandparents, from when I was six, neither had ever laid a hand on me in anger, but both had the ability to bring me down and put me in my place me with a few words or a look. I sat back down and grumbled, "So tell me then. I'm all ears."

"Don't be a smart ass, Curtis. See, that's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. You feel a little bit insulted and your response is to walk away and not deal with it. Hardly a solution, is it?"

I was all out of smart-ass comebacks, so I just shrugged my shoulders.

Granddad, leaned back in his Adirondack chair and asked, "I wonder if you've ever spent any serious time alone thinking about things like this?"

"Of course I have!" But then I wasn't so sure. "Well, what do you mean by serious time?"

He chuckled and went on, "That was a rhetorical question. I'm sure you haven't. Not the kind of time I'm talking about anyway. I'm thinking more like spending a month by yourself; nobody else around, nobody to cater to your needs, nobody serving as a buffer between you and the world around you."

"OK, Granddad, I'm not getting it. What are you talking about?"

"Have you ever heard of a thing called a walkabout?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, a walkabout is a thing young aboriginal Australians do as they're entering adulthood. They go out into the wild on their own and spend several days living in the old traditional ways. They do that to get close to nature, to gain some self-confidence and to contemplate their existence. Ever since I read about it, I've always thought it was something all kids should do; kind of a rite of passage."

"Well did you ever do that? Go on something like a walkabout?"

"Not specifically, but I did spend fifteen months in combat in Viet Nam. If there's anything that will get you contemplating your existence, it's the knowledge that at any moment, yours may come to an abrupt end."

"Yeah, I see your point."

He took a sip of his beer and asked, "Curtis, what would you think about spending a month in a cabin in the mountains? I'm talking about a place so isolated you wouldn't even know how to find your way out. You'd have food and shelter of course, a few basic tools, but no modern conveniences."

"Um, wouldn't I have my iPhone and my laptop, or at least my iPad?"

He looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. "Hell no! That'd be counter to the whole idea! Now, there would be a bail-out mechanism if it all proved too much for you; you know, if you decided you couldn't hack it."

I saw him checking me out from the corner of his eye, to see if I'd react. Well, I can tell you the mere thought of that kind of isolation had my stomach turning flip-flops, but Granddad was laying down the gauntlet, and I wasn't about to concede the field without putting up a fight. "You don't think I can handle it, do you?"

He raised an eyebrow in that meaningful way. "Mmm, I'm just saying it would take a mature mind and some serious guts to walk away from all the things that make your present life a relative walk in the park. It would take a person with some depth to tackle something like this."

OK, it was finally soaking in that the old boy was actually serious about this thing. "Well, um, where is this place, anyhow?"

"It's about half a day's drive from here."

"Yeah, but where exactly?"

"All I'm going to tell you is that it's up in the mountains. See, anything more specific would give a bright kid like yourself something to use to find your way back to civilization. No, you'd be in a dry, comfortable cabin deep in the forest. You'd have food, a rifle for self-protection and to hunt game, some basic gear to catch some trout, an axe to chop firewood, a box of tools to do whatever."

"Um, so what's this bail-out thing you mentioned?"

"It's a fully charged two-way radio tuned to the Forest Ranger's frequency. But you'd only use it in the event of a dire emergency ... or because you decided to chicken out."

"And you're betting I'll do just that, aren't you? That I'll chicken out and call for somebody to come and rescue me?"

"I'm not betting on anything. I have no idea whether or not you've got what it takes, but I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Shit! I thought, he has me in a corner and he knows it! It's embarrassing how he can manipulate me so easily.

"Well, but when would this month start? I mean, it would take some planning and I'd have to pack and all."

"Pack what?" he asked, "I told you what you'd have by way of resources, and most of that's already there. The rest wouldn't take but about five minutes to gather up. Do you think you're going to take thirty days worth of clothing and bring it all back for your grandmother to wash? As for the when, I was thinking tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! Jeez, Granddad, I've got things I need to do! I'd have to call my friends and let 'em know I'd be gone and stuff. I can't do it tomorrow!"

He sipped his beer again and sighed, "Yeah, well I figured you'd try to weasel out of it as soon as it became the least bit inconvenient. Never mind, then. Forget I even mentioned it."

"Come on, Granddad! That's not fair!"

"Isn't it? The moment you run up against a complication, you backpedal. This is the way life works, Curtis: You see a problem or an issue, you face it, you deal with it, then you move on. You don't solve problems by putting them off or looking for ways around them."

Damn! He's got me! "Alright, alright! Tomorrow! Are you gonna at least tell me what I need to take?"

"I've already told you. We'll leave at five in the morning. That'll give you time after we get there to get settled in before dark."

"So are you gonna help me do that? Get settled in, I mean?"

"Nope! I'm going to show you around a little bit, then I'm going to drive away. Thirty days later, I'll go back and pick you up. That's the deal. In or out?"

Zero options without looking like the world's biggest wuss!

"In."

As Granddad said, we left the house a little after five AM. Aside from the clothes I was wearing, I had a gym bag with two pairs of jeans, two shirts, a light jacket and two changes of socks and underwear. There was a hand-tooled leather case with his Henry .30/30 and some basic fishing gear. He let me choose three books to bring along to entertain myself with. Oh, and a shaving kit with my toiletries. No electric toothbrush.

He was right that it was half a day's drive, and we didn't get there until a little after eleven in the morning. I didn't see the last few miles because he stopped before turning off the main highway and made me put on a blindfold. We went along the highway for a few more minutes before turning off onto a dirt road. We must have been on it for a good half hour, and the road got rougher and rougher until I thought from all the bouncing around, it must have disappeared altogether.

"OK," he finally said, "You can look now."

When I took off the blindfold, all I could see was trees.

"This is it? You're gonna drop me off in the middle of the damned forest?"

He just laughed and said, "Not quite. Grab your stuff out of the back and I'll take you to the cabin."

It took another twenty minutes of walking up the mountain to get to it. I have to admit, it was kind of pretty. When we stepped out of the trees, we were in a clearing with this small, one-room cabin sitting next to a wooden tower, maybe thirty feet high. A few yards away, there was what pretty much had to be an outhouse. Oh, fun! Everything else was forest for as far as you could see.

As we walked up to the cabin door, I saw it was padlocked. There was a moment of hope that the lock would cancel the plans, but he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked it. Damn!

"Who does this cabin belong to, and how come you have a key?"

"It belongs to the U.S. Forestry Service, and I have the key because they gave it to me. This used to be a fire watch location, but they stopped using it a few years ago. They still maintain it for training purposes, but they don't have anything scheduled for a couple of months. They do rent it out, though, and that's what I've done. You'll see a list of rules posted on the inside of the door. There's one rule above all; leave it like you found it!"

We stepped inside and looked around. There wasn't much in the way of furnishings; just an old metal-frame single bed with a rolled up mattress against one wall, a rough table and two chairs, a three-drawer bureau, a sink with a hand-operated water pump and a tall cabinet for storage. The drainage system for the sink was a bucket sitting underneath it. Next to the sink was an old cast-iron wood-burning stove. Forget about microwaves; no electricity.

"Not exactly the Holiday Inn, is it?" I asked, only half joking.

He didn't laugh at my half joke. "Curtis, are you aware that a good portion of the world's population doesn't have it this good?"

I kept my mouth shut, figuring he'd just asked another one of those rhetorical questions. I walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. There wasn't much food on the shelves other than a few cans; some Chef Boyardee ravioli, some pork and beans and two boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese. On the next shelf down, there were a few mismatched dishes and glasses. On the bottom shelf, there were a couple of aluminum pots and an old, black cast-iron skillet. In a tray next to them were some forks, spoons, knives and a spatula with a broken handle.

I got this sinking feeling in my chest and asked, "Granddad, uh, this food won't last me for three days! Am I supposed to go out and start killing things right off?"

He laughed, "Don't panic, boy! It's downstairs."

"Downstairs?" I looked around and saw nothing to indicate another level.

He walked over to the corner of the room and kicked an old braided rug to the side, revealing a metal ring set in the floor. He grabbed it and lifted a trap door.

He pointed past me and said, "Light that lantern on the table and let's go see what we've got."

I looked at the lantern and asked, "With what? And how?"

He shook his head at my apparent helplessness and walked over to the table, pulled a small drawer from the side and took out a box of matches. He shook the lantern to check that there was fuel in it, then he pumped a plunger on the side of the lantern a few times, raised the glass flue and lit the wick.

"Come along," he said, and carried the lantern over to the hole in the floor. There were some steep steps leading down to a storage space. Its contents gave me some hope because there were rows and stacks of canned goods, pasta, some powdered milk, a bag of brown rice and a couple of boxes of oatmeal. Along another wall, there was a toolbox, a couple of shovels and a mattox tool leaning against the wall.

He looked at me in the dim lamplight and asked, "Will this do?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. Thanks."

A few minutes later, standing outside the cabin door, he laid his hammy old hand on my shoulder and asked, "Are you sure you're up for this, Curtis? Once I walk away, you may not see another soul for thirty days."

To be honest, I didn't feel at all like I was up for it, but my ego or my macho pride or whatever hormone my balls were pumping out wouldn't let me admit it. "Sure, Granddad, I'll be fine. See ya in thirty days, OK?"

"Oh, one last thing," he said pointing toward the tree line, "See that metal rod sticking up out of that high spot over there? That's a lightning rod. I wouldn't want to be too close to it during a thunderstorm."

He patted me twice on the shoulder and walked away, disappearing into the trees. I just stood there looking around me and thought, Curtis, you moron, what the fuck have you got yourself into now?

It was several minutes later when I remembered about the radio. Shit! He didn't even mention it! Unable to suppress the panic welling up in my chest, I ran toward the trees calling out, "GRANDDAD! GRANDDAD!" But there was no answer. He was long gone.

After I calmed down, I walked around inside the cabin, just touching things, trying to get a feel for the place. The primitive ambiance was totally alien to me. I tried the hand pump next to the sink and almost convinced myself it wasn't working when a splash of ice-cold water spat out onto my hand and drained into the bucket below.

OK, Curtis my boy, just suck it up and make it work. It's way too early to go off the deep end.

I hadn't eaten since we stopped at McDonald's and picked up some sausage biscuits with egg and some hash browns on our way out of town. I found a can opener in the tray of utensils and opened a can of ravioli, pouring it into one of the aluminum pots. Heat! I needed heat to warm the ravioli.

There was a box of kindling and a stack of old newspapers next to the stove, so I opened the door on the front and built a little pyramid to start a fire. Before I lit it, I went outside and grabbed a few chunks of wood from the stack under a tarp.

I soon learned my first lesson about cooking on a wood stove. It helps to have the flue open when you light the fire. The paper and the kindling burned beautifully, making a cloud of white smoke that came billowing out to fill the room before I figured out that the metal thing sticking out of the side of the stovepipe was the flue valve. Once I opened it up, the smoke went up the stovepipe the way it was supposed to. I had to open the door and both windows to clear the room of smoke.

It took a while before the fire had heated the top of the stove enough to actually cook on it. By that time, I figured as long as I'd already gone to so much trouble, I'd just have two cans of ravioli. Comfort food.

After the meal, and after the room was cleared of smoke (if not the smell), I went about unpacking and getting settled, if feeling settled was even possible. I unrolled the thin mattress on the metal bed frame and made it up with the sheets and blankets I found in the trunk at the foot. There was a pillow there too, so, wow! All the comforts of home.

That done, I ran out of things to occupy my brain and started fretting over the radio again. What the hell would I do if there was a bear sniffing around outside or if I tripped and broke my arm or something. I'd just be up shit creek, that's what!

Bears! Crap, I bet there are bears in these mountains! Maybe pumas too!

That thought motivated me to take the .30/30 out of its case and check it over. I'm no expert with firearms, but Granddad taught me how to shoot and how to take care of the weapon. I checked out the action and saw that it was pretty clean. I took it outside into the sunlight and sighted down the barrel. That was clean too, so I guess it was ready for use if I needed it. I loaded four cartridges into the magazine. Some small comfort.

I eyed the tower standing next to the cabin and decided that needed to be explored. After sticking the rifle back in its case (it was Granddad's pride and joy), I started up the steep steps that wound around the outside of the tower frame. At the top, there was a three-foot wide walkway around a small room with windows all around, giving a great view of the surrounding territory. Jeez, it was beautiful! I bet I could see for fifty miles. Fifty miles of forest. Not a town or highway in sight.

When I stepped inside, my heart leapt as I saw something that made my day; the only piece of electronic technology on the mountain. On a table in the center of the room, there was a two-way radio in a charger. The light on the charger was green, and it was plugged into a power converter connected to a storage battery that had a wire coming out of it and running up through the roof. I stepped out onto the walkway and stood with my back against the outside rail to look over the eave. Aha! A solar panel, the power source for the storage battery. Hallelujah! I guess I wasn't totally abandoned after all.

I grabbed the radio and turned it on, immediately hearing some static and then some chatter, presumably among the rangers. That was all the reassurance I needed, so I put it back into the charger. I could relax now that I had my lifeline.

Hanging from a nail in the center post was a pair of binoculars. I adjusted the lenses and did a three-sixty, taking in the beautiful scenery surrounding me. On the table next to the charger was an aerial map. Presumably, it showed the area around the tower for about forty miles, indicating mountains by their names and their distance. I guessed that was how they'd pinpoint sightings of any smoke or flames. As I studied the map closely, I saw there was what looked like a decent sized town about twenty-six miles away.