Africa Bound

This was the culmination piece for the fiction unit. Surprisingly, I got really positive feedback from the class on this, and my professor. I wrote it at two in the morning the night before it was due, and thought it was cute enough, but my class had a tendency to love the highly theatrical, so I didn't think this would be a favorite. I envisioned Calvin & Hobbes and "Yukon, Ho!" while writing it.

“What are you packing?” his mother asked from the doorway, as the weak February morning sunlight filtered through the slits between the dusty, white, plastic blinds in his room. Books and clothes clogged any pathway from the door to where he was hunched. Stuffing socks, underwear and various instructional manuals into a small duffel bag, he was not to be bothered. The sign on the door said so. “IMPORTANT TRIP PREPERATION-ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK” it declared in bright red, all-capital letters.

“Mom, I’m in a bit of a hurry, could we talk about this later?” Clark didn’t even turn from the task at hand (tearing a world map from the wall, to stow in the worn blue and white duffel). Before wrestling the zipper closed over the contents bursting from the tote, he paused, and inventoried his remaining possessions. He didn’t want to leave anything behind that could potentially save his life on this journey. The bright blue paint of the walls was littered with small black holes, pin holes to be exact. They had been holding up maps, posters of exotic animals, and safety guides, but those were now tucked safely in a pocket of the bag on the floor.

“Sweetheart, you can do whatever you like, as long as I know where you’re planning to go” she said. He finally turned to face her. His electric blue eyes were solemn as he met her gaze and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to the African jungle.” He quickly looked away, not wanting to make her cry. As he grappled the zipper on the polyester packing bag, she was silent. I knew she wouldn’t understand. She’s probably crying already, can’t even wait until I leave. Clark remained kneeling on the floor, lacing up his ankle-high, tan hiking boots.

“Are you sure you have to leave so soon? Would you like some food for your trip?” Suppressing a chuckle at her neediness, Clark opened his mouth to decline her offer, but his stomach piped in first with a rumbling growl. She smiled, and said “Come on, I bought more cereal yesterday, have a bowl before you head out.” Grudgingly, he shouldered his pack and followed her into the kitchen. He pondered his travel plans, where he would camp in between villages while on the road. He looked the part of an intrepid explorer. His boots were too big, and his khaki cargo pants hit a little too high on his laces. A favorite red fleece jacket was already zipped up to his chin in preparation to go outside. His dark brown curls were edging dangerously close to his eyelashes, pushed farther down by his favorite baseball cap, worn to show his sworn fealty to the Seattle Mariners.

His train of thought reached the station and he jerked from his present thoughts. “I know what you’re trying to do” he said, giving her a parental glance. Sighing, he patted her hand resting on the counter. “You’re trying to keep me here longer, hoping I’ll forget to go. I’ll write Mom, I promise.” Leaping from the stool, he crossed the kitchen. He bounded down the stairs, looked one last time into his mother’s face, and walked out the door into the wild blue yonder.

He ran from the door and jumped behind a nearby tree. There were stampeding rhinoceroses nearby, he could hear them running and their occasional mating cries. He was familiar with this species, with their multiple body shapes and colors, but knew they were lethal when tested. Best to avoid them, and he headed opposite the black and yellow striped path they frequented. There were a poisonous variety of vines hanging in the path up ahead, silver and shiny. He crouched in a bush out of sight, not wanting to be in the open while searching in a book for some advice. “The vines will kill you, but the blue, rubber-like leaf holding pairs of vines together at the bottom are safe” Clark read out loud, grateful for the foresight to bring that particular book along. He took a deep breath, started to run, and jumped onto the small, bright blue leaf between the two deadly vines. One sleeve brushed the vine and he yelled out in pain, tumbling off of his perch. It didn’t get my skin. That means I’m okay. Clark stood, resituated his duffel, and continued on his trek.

He was keeping his eyes on the trail ahead, but not on his feet below. A bright green cobra, coiled on the ground, took a chunk out of Clark’s foot. He cried out in pain but quickly army crawled out of the reach of the snake. I can’t leave it there, what if it attacks another explorer? His foot was healed and Clark got into a low crouch, circling the beast slowly. Before the reptile knew what hit him, Clark landed on top of the circularly wrapped body and trapped the cold, wet, steely head of the snake in his hand. Clark’s sheer bravery had tamed the monster. There will be less of those on higher ground, so Clark limped towards a distant mountain.

Should’ve packed lighter, he thought as he huffed up the mountain. At the crest, he dropped the bag and removed the red fleece jacket he was wearing. I also should’ve brought some food…wild game will be scarce until the Panama Canal I think. He pulled a map from his bag, trying to orient himself by the position of the sun in the sky, to the longitudinal lines on the grid in his hands. His eyes poured over the different colored countries and provinces. Without realizing what he was doing, he slowly sat down on top of his duffel. In a trance, he pulled out a reference guide to the Pacific Northwest and started cross-referencing native birds (he had packed his slingshot) in the area to what he believed his coordinates were.

Around one o’clock in the afternoon, Clark heard his name being called out. His survival skills kicked in, and leaving all of his scattered belongings where they were, he jumped up into the nearest tree for safety. “CLARK! Lunch is ready!” Ha, a likely story, trying to lure me in with food. His stomach released an untimely exclamation. He heard the assailant stop moving, imagined its eyes roving the jungle canopy for its prey. Clark dared a peek around the top of the hollow, yellow tree trunk he was hiding behind. My only hope is a sneak attack. He propelled himself down the tree trunk with enough velocity to land his flying kick at the end of his run. His high speed assault didn’t land an injury on anything; his predator was nowhere to be seen. As he turned his head, he felt something grab him around the middle from behind. With a yelp he tried to struggle free, but alas! The arms were too strong, too full of love to ever let go.

Clark giggled as his mother threw him over her shoulder, and picked up his duffel bag from the grass, maps and pamphlets already safely packed away. “I thought I was covering my tracks pretty well, how did you find me?” Clark asked. “Well, the African jungle isn’t so far away you know” his mother said, as she reached the bottom of the mountaintop, walked past the tamed cobra and poisonous vines, and right into the backyard.