Point of No Return

Earlier this morning, once the key players had filed into the conference room promptly at ten o’clock with coffee cups in hand and sporting varying degrees of alertness, the team meeting between upper management, Project Management, Project Admin, and Accounting was called to order. The business at hand was as it is every Monday morning. After getting the requisite pleasantries and insincere queries with regard to how each member spent their weekend out of the way, the meeting commenced. There really is no need for discussion because the agenda is printed on paper and handed to each attendee week in and week out, so why go through the pretense? Just read the damn thing! Status updates for current projects, which documents need to be obtained from subcontractors in order to compile and submit monthly billings to clients, owner change orders in the works, proposed start dates for upcoming projects, assignation of key team members for each, etc. Yada, yada, and more yada. The only thing that changes is the date posted on the stupid-ass meeting minutes.

Same shit, different day and she was over it!

An Hour Later

Veronica, the controller, strode into Mary’s office, hands on her ample hips and looking quite perturbed. “Where’s Analisa?” she screeched in her nails-on-chalkboard voice.

“Last I saw her, she said she needed to get something out of her car.”

“Well, her car’s not here! Where is she?” It was quite clear Veronica wasn’t just concerned—she was pissed!

***

Analisa isn’t sure what compelled her to flee from the windowless, too-brightly-lit conference room to the park a mile from the office; it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. She just knew she needed to get the hell out of there or she would lose her cool. She’d grabbed her keys and scurried downstairs to the parking lot under the guise of retrieving something she’d left in her car.

And now she sits alone on a park bench, a scowl forming on her face as dark as the gathering thunderclouds she left behind at the office.

I know I should be at work right now, but I really don’t give a shit. I’m so close to full retirement age that I don’t care if I get fired for jumping ship in the middle of the morning and going MIA. Besides, I’ve had enough of the office politicking and pretentious assholes whom I can’t trust as far as I can spit. For all I care, they can eat shit and die. Get over it, schmucks! Or don’t. No skin off my back!

Analisa’s phone rang several times, which she ignored. Then the texts started blowing up her device with a vengeance. Fuck you, assholes. I’ll come back when I’m good and ready. Or not. Just leave me the fuck alone!

***

Crane’s Roost Park is where Analisa often spends her lunch hours because it provides a respite from the oppressive world of construction and the deadlines and stress that come with it. Not only that, but she is also becoming more and more disenchanted with her role in construction, which she has given a more accurate (in her mind) nom de plume: destruction. And the guilt! The guilt that wracks her soul is almost more than she can bear. She hates being a part of an industry that tears down natural habitats to make way for concrete structures that do nothing but destroy the earth and the wildlife that calls it home, only to house humans who don’t give one iota about how their selfish actions affect living things.

Whether sitting quietly on one of the many benches that line the perimeter of the park while reading a book and inhaling the luscious scents of blooming roses, star jasmine, and gardenia, or leisurely strolling along the path that meanders around the pond where turtles and various wading birds call home, Crane’s Roost Park is one of Analisa’s favorite spots to visit when she feels the need to clear her head and ground her soul to Mother Earth. Statuesque live oaks draped with Spanish moss stand sentry over the landscape, providing shade. Streaks of sunlight beam through the boughs reaching down to the earth beckoning humans and wildlife alike to relish in the lush soft grass beneath their feet. Cypress trees emerge from the water’s edge, their wispy branches swaying in unison with the breeze, performing a ballet unmatched by any human troupe. Great Blue Herons, White Ibis, Great Egrets, and several other varieties of wading birds inhabit the park in addition to cardinals, blue jays, mourning doves, northern mockingbirds and many common backyard bird species, providing a symphony of tranquility . On more than one occasion, while reading under the canopy of a grand magnolia or live oak, Analisa has been joined by a pair of nearly-four-feet tall Sandhill Cranes as they poke their long beaks into the ground in search of a meal. With an abundance of seeds, berries, aquatic plant roots, earthworms, lizards and small rodents, Cranes Roost is a veritable smorgasbord of tasty delights for Sandhill Cranes and other omnivorous critters that frequent the park.

On this particular Monday morning, when she should have returned to her office after the team meeting to go about the monotonous work of coding and processing job cost invoices, subcontractor pay applications, and going through the motions of coming off as a team player among hypocrites, Analisa finds herself relaxing on one of many benches situated along the flora-bejeweled walkway at Crane’s Roost Park but has no idea how she got there. The last thing she remembers is unlocking her car in the company parking lot.

Well, I’m here. I might as well make the best of it. No sense in going back now. It’s just about lunchtime anyway. Maybe I’ll call the office in an hour and tell them I went home sick. That should keep them off my back for a while.

Having made up her mind to take some much-needed—and long-overdue—“me time” Analisa slung her purse over her right shoulder, vacated the bench on which she’d plopped her butt, and began casually walking the path around the park. This was no conscious decision; her body seemed to take command of her thoughts, to which she had no argument. A cool breeze kicked up, carrying with it the calming scents of nature, and guided Analisa along the pathway until she reached a short wooden bridge that crosses over the pond. At the midway point she leaned against the rail, peered into the water, and remained there for quite a while watching turtles do their little dance just below the water’s surface, occasionally poking their little heads up as if to acknowledge her presence. Feeling comforted by the reptiles’ collective gesture, she crossed over the bridge, chose a strong magnolia tree under which a berm had formed, sat down, and pulled from her purse a paperback copy of Where The Crawdads Sing.

Just as Analisa settled into her makeshift reading nook, the sky grew dark and heavy with thunderclouds despite the fact that the day had been sunny and clear up until now. No signs of rain.

The breeze stilled and the sky grew more ominous with each passing moment.

Then…

The overhead cumulonimbus clouds morphed into the shape of a sumo wrestler ready to pounce his opponent, then enveloped the atmosphere and descended to just above ground level, smothering all life below it.

I can’t breathe!

Analisa fought to catch her breath as she witnessed all wildlife freeze in place and decay before her eyes. The stench encapsulated her, and she felt her skin crawl. Within minutes, life—including hers— ceased to exist.

Analisa’s cell phone beeped with a Wireless Emergency Alert, but she never heard it.