Read Online The Journey Back by Priscilla Cummings - Free Book Online
Authors: Priscilla Cummings
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got me this other spot behind the toolshed where I had made a shelter with sheet metal, old tires, and a broken-down lounge chair. So no. I never forgot that word
endure
. I
lived
that word.
I kept taking shallow breaths and listening. Soon, two bikers cruised by on the towpath with their little bouncing lights. They didnât see their bike in the bushes. More important, they didnât see me.
When I figured they were far down the path, I stood up. But instead of returning to the towpath, I walked through the woods to the edge of the river. It was rough walking. In some places, there was no beach at all, just rocks. Big, small, round, sharpâall kinds of rocks. I ended up in the water half the time, but I waded quietly, close to shore and kind of hunched over so I couldnât be seen. One time, I had to climb over a bunch of boulders and one of my boots slipped. I went down hard. The backpack broke my fall, but then I slid sideways, cutting and tearing my pants at the knee.
I walked this way all night until a few birds started singing and faint traces of dawn turned the sky purple. Then, out of nowhere, I stumbled on this boat ramp. A sign said: L ITTLE O RLEANS D RIVE- I N C AMPING. And next to the ramp were two overturned canoes.
Staying low, I snuck over to the canoes. It would be a change of pace to paddle in a canoe instead of walking. Fun, too. I chose the dark green one and not the silver one âcause I thought silver would draw more attention. But when I went to lift the end of the canoe, I discovered it was chained to a stake in the ground. Both canoes were chained up.
Disappointed, I sat on the grass and crossed my arms. But then I had an idea. I tried moving one of the stakes back and forth, back and forth, until I felt it start to get loose. I worked at it until the stake gave way and I could pull it out of the ground. Quietly, I lay the stake and chain in the green canoe, set the backpack on top of them, and started pulling the canoe across the grass.
At the waterâs edge, I took off my boots and socks, and gently placed them in the bow. Then I rolled up the bottoms of my pants, although Iâm not sure why âcause they were already wet.
Stepping into the cold water I felt the pull of the current. I was several feet out in the river beside the canoe when I remembered the paddles. Damn! I cast a glance backward and scanned the area, but I didnât see any. What I did see was a police car slowly coming down the dirt road. Like a snake, I thought, sneaking out of the bushes to get me.
Quickly, I ducked down and pushed the canoe out to deeper water. When I felt the water halfway up my shins, I pointed the canoe downriver and rolled over the gunwale the way a high jumper rolls over the bar. Flat on the bottom of the canoe, I curled up and stayed low while the boat drifted with the current. The whole time I expected someone to call out to me from shore, but the only thing I ever heard was water rippling down the sides of the canoe.
After a while I sat up and discovered I was a good ways down the river with the landing out of sight beyond a bend. Another close call. Unbelievable.
Guess some people thought the river was a floating trash can âcause I saw a ton of disgusting stuff out there in the water: tires, a little kidâs wading pool, a car seat cushion, tin cans, bottles, a Styrofoam cooler, dirty diapers, a broom. When I saw the broom, I reached out and grabbed it. Even if I couldnât paddle with it very well, at least Iâd have something to push the canoe off the rocks if it got stuck.
I lay the broom down inside the canoe and sat for a while, watching the sun come up in the east over the trees. It was a right pretty sunrise and I wondered what the day was going to bring. But my stomach was making a lot of noise again so food was my next order of business. Hereâs what I found in the backpack:
Two bottles of water
A tiny red flashlight that worked
Small
endure
. I
lived
that word.
I kept taking shallow breaths and listening. Soon, two bikers cruised by on the towpath with their little bouncing lights. They didnât see their bike in the bushes. More important, they didnât see me.
When I figured they were far down the path, I stood up. But instead of returning to the towpath, I walked through the woods to the edge of the river. It was rough walking. In some places, there was no beach at all, just rocks. Big, small, round, sharpâall kinds of rocks. I ended up in the water half the time, but I waded quietly, close to shore and kind of hunched over so I couldnât be seen. One time, I had to climb over a bunch of boulders and one of my boots slipped. I went down hard. The backpack broke my fall, but then I slid sideways, cutting and tearing my pants at the knee.
I walked this way all night until a few birds started singing and faint traces of dawn turned the sky purple. Then, out of nowhere, I stumbled on this boat ramp. A sign said: L ITTLE O RLEANS D RIVE- I N C AMPING. And next to the ramp were two overturned canoes.
Staying low, I snuck over to the canoes. It would be a change of pace to paddle in a canoe instead of walking. Fun, too. I chose the dark green one and not the silver one âcause I thought silver would draw more attention. But when I went to lift the end of the canoe, I discovered it was chained to a stake in the ground. Both canoes were chained up.
Disappointed, I sat on the grass and crossed my arms. But then I had an idea. I tried moving one of the stakes back and forth, back and forth, until I felt it start to get loose. I worked at it until the stake gave way and I could pull it out of the ground. Quietly, I lay the stake and chain in the green canoe, set the backpack on top of them, and started pulling the canoe across the grass.
At the waterâs edge, I took off my boots and socks, and gently placed them in the bow. Then I rolled up the bottoms of my pants, although Iâm not sure why âcause they were already wet.
Stepping into the cold water I felt the pull of the current. I was several feet out in the river beside the canoe when I remembered the paddles. Damn! I cast a glance backward and scanned the area, but I didnât see any. What I did see was a police car slowly coming down the dirt road. Like a snake, I thought, sneaking out of the bushes to get me.
Quickly, I ducked down and pushed the canoe out to deeper water. When I felt the water halfway up my shins, I pointed the canoe downriver and rolled over the gunwale the way a high jumper rolls over the bar. Flat on the bottom of the canoe, I curled up and stayed low while the boat drifted with the current. The whole time I expected someone to call out to me from shore, but the only thing I ever heard was water rippling down the sides of the canoe.
After a while I sat up and discovered I was a good ways down the river with the landing out of sight beyond a bend. Another close call. Unbelievable.
Guess some people thought the river was a floating trash can âcause I saw a ton of disgusting stuff out there in the water: tires, a little kidâs wading pool, a car seat cushion, tin cans, bottles, a Styrofoam cooler, dirty diapers, a broom. When I saw the broom, I reached out and grabbed it. Even if I couldnât paddle with it very well, at least Iâd have something to push the canoe off the rocks if it got stuck.
I lay the broom down inside the canoe and sat for a while, watching the sun come up in the east over the trees. It was a right pretty sunrise and I wondered what the day was going to bring. But my stomach was making a lot of noise again so food was my next order of business. Hereâs what I found in the backpack:
Two bottles of water
A tiny red flashlight that worked
Small
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