Lost

The lights swirled above me, between branches of towering pine and cedar trees. Spills of colorful ink in the starry sky. They seemed to communicate. A red glow would enlarge, then retract. A blue halo would shine brighter as a response. And purple, green, yellow… High in the night. They had to be gigantic, for I saw them large and clear from the ground, lying under a sheet of dead leaves, shivering.

           I had blamed the cold for waking me up. Only thin embers remained of the dying fire I had struggled so much to ignite. A feeble glow in the immense and crushing darkness surrounding me. Weakened from a starving stomach and exhausted from days of futile walking, I had no energy to revive it. Had to. But no matches left. When lost in the wilderness, exposed, you sleep only in stretches of five to ten minutes, if at all. Awake, suffer, pass out again. If lucky. The thought that you may not wake up hangs over you like a taunting ghost.

           Then I saw them. Terrifying, mesmerizing, and I couldn’t look away. Immersed in the mysterious dread they spurred in me. I struggled to lift my head. Were they real? Delirium from dehydration? Maybe the lights at the end of the tunnel. I reeked of death, but my heart persisted. I checked to make sure. Still beating. And fast.

           An aurora borealis didn’t look like that. Distinct spheres, hovering with purpose. Could it be insanity seeping in?

           A month ago, my mind had given in. An implosion from the weight of years of routine, stress, pressure. Cacophonic city life. I escaped. The job, the concrete, the smog, the traffic, the crowds. Found a new vitality when I moved to Alaska, eager for a clean start. A wildland free of the urban things that slowly sucked the life out of you, but filled with new challenges for which I was unprepared. Deep in the forest, still possessed by the desire to get away, I walked further and further until I couldn’t find the way back to my camp. Gone too far. No food, no shelter. For days. Weakened by exposure to the elements I had found so appealing. The refreshing wind now dangerously cold, the wildlife threatening, the trees claustrophobic. Now my body was giving in. Lost in infinite wilderness, craving a sign of the civilization I had run away from.

           The lights glowed and glided up and down. If it was a hallucination, it was vivid and prolonged. One sphere left a ghostly trail of fading light. A trail. Like a… A plane. Could it be? Didn’t look like one. Those colors, those shapes. But what if…

           I snapped out of my stupor. Picked my foggy brain for a way to signal for help. Waving was pointless, too dark. Screaming too, too far. In pitch black, I groped around for kindling to revive the dying fire. Before the embers turned cold. Before the lights disappeared.

           I placed handfuls of twigs around the embers and, as careful as one could be, blew on it. The red glowed brighter, then faded again.

I glanced up. Lights still there.

With a trembling hand, I held a dead leaf against the embers, blew softly on it until the edge of the leaf glowed red, until a thin and feeble flame sprouted. Methodically, I brought another leaf to the flame, the lit leaves to the tinder, the tinder to the logs. The fire grew.

           I lay next to it. Too close, but I didn’t move. I watched. As the lights danced, as the smoke blurred my vision, as the heat bit my face. Waiting for a sign of recognition.

           See me. Down here. A dot of red in the dark. Save me.

           An orange dot detached itself from the lights. A spark from the fire? No. An orb.

           It floated down toward me. Like a little eye, it saw me. It saw me.

           The hair on my arms rose. A question mark punctuated my relief. What was that?

           Through the cold night sky, through the branches and leaves, it descended until it hovered a couple of feet above the ground. I pushed myself up. My legs barely supported my weight. The orb floated around me, as if examining me from all angles, before coming to a stop at my knees’ height.

           It glowed brighter, grew larger. In a flash.

           A dark, thin limb emerged. Another. A head. A humanoid, slender body.

           The orb vanished. The alien — what else would I call it? — stood before me, barely within reach of the fire’s orange light. About five feet tall. Smooth, glossy skin. I saw it as dark brown, but as I stared, I could discern tints of blue, red, green, a mixture that appeared to glisten while at times seemed to absorb all light and fade into an inky figure of charcoal black, only for the colors to spread out again. There was no face. No eyes, no mouth, no nose or ears. Just a head, like an elongated egg.

But it saw me. Its head tilted left and right. I stood frozen as it approached, ran its cold hand on my cheek, patted my hair. If I had tried to run away, my body wouldn’t have followed. Both heavy with fear and light with detachment, the dream-like state of one deprived of sleep, food and water. No energy left for panic. I was half dead. What life could it take from me that the forest hadn’t already drained?

When it finished examining me, it took a step back. Something metallic and circular hung around its neck. It raised one of its long, thin fingers, almost tentacle-like, the kind that could bend backward completely, and brought it above my forehead. A drop fell on my skin, down my nose, on my lips. I let it get in. More drops followed, turned to a trickle. Akin to oily water. A hint of saltiness. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth.

A feeble heat emanated from the alien. My eyes followed the drops from the tip of the fingers, up the arms, to the chest and neck. They gathered into furrows on the skin, thin as thread, almost like scars, that extended from head to feet. And the drops streamed along its body to end up on my tongue.

My dry mouth felt a bit of relief, but I was far from adequately hydrated. We considered each other further, both more curious than threatened.

“What are you?” I whispered.

 It grabbed the circular object around its neck, wrapped its fingers around it.

A wave of electricity-like energy burst out of the thing and through the forest, in all directions at once. I jumped back.

Orange light flashed slowly at the center of the pendant and was projected upward in a larger, complex pattern. The alien brought its face closer, carefully examining it. Textures and shapes lived in the glow. I could discern trees, mountains, rivers. The projected landscape kept changing as the alien slid its finger across the metallic instrument.

I approached what I could only assume was a map. Possessed by inquisitiveness, and a hint of hope. I thought I spotted a road, buildings. I stepped closer.

A flash. And all went black.

#

           Daylight seeped through my eyelids, pried them open. A tangerine sun hovered above. The alien stood next to me, watching, eyeless. It cocked its head as my stomach roared. I was hit by the thirst, the hunger, the pain, the fatigue. All reminding me of the gravity of my situation.

           Cued by my awakening, the alien walked away, glancing back to make sure I followed. I did.

           It watched me as I leaned against a trunk, catching my breath. As I held my head from dehydration pain. And I watched it when it stopped to examine a plant, to touch the bark of a birch, to observe a squirrel climbing up a tree. Its metallic pendant flashed now and then. Sometimes the alien opened the map to orientate itself, and therefore, me. That’s what led me to think it would take me out of the woods, or at least somewhere.

           “Where are we going?” I said.

           My voice sounded as foreign as my guide. The alien stopped and turned, surprised by the sounds I made. No way to know if it understood a thing.

           As we walked, I talked just to break the silence. Reveling in the fact that someone was hearing me.

           “I’ve been lost for a long time.”

           “I’m so tired.”

           “Are we going to civilization?”

           And each time, the alien would turn, the pendant would flash. As if absorbing every word, cough, grunt, moan.

           We came upon a creek, and the alien studied me as I gulped the life-saving water.

           Something cracked behind us. Through the dense woods, a tall brown figure made its way toward us. A grizzly. On its rear paws. About nine feet tall.

           I froze, lost in this terrifying and surreal spectacle. Always on two legs, it approached with determined, awkward steps. Let out a shattering growl. And charged me.

           Had I wanted to run, I wouldn’t have been able to. I stood there, a spectator in my own fate, powerless. Fear from the mind, detachment from the body. Both feelings now more than familiar.

           The alien worked the pendant, and an orange orb shot out of it.

           The grizzly got sucked right in.

           The orb floated in place. An imperfect sphere, its irregular surface swarming with barely discernable life, radiating inexplainable intelligence.

           One glow. Two glows. Three glows.

           The orb enlarged, retracted. Disappeared back in the pendant.

           On the pebbly ground lay neatly arranged piles in a straight line.

           The bones. Shining white. As if bleached. Not a drop of blood or a hint of a ligament.

           The fur. One piece, folded. Like a blanket. Clean and dry.

           The meat. The organs. The teeth. The claws.

           The alien bent over the piles, went from one to another. Examining every bone, every organ. Passing a finger on the tissue, in the fur, in the guts. The pendant flashed now and then.           

           I grabbed a chunk of meat and bit into it. The alien watched me chewing my tough, gristly meal. Eating it raw could make me sick, but I couldn’t stop myself. Starvation would kill me before disease.

            For hours, the alien led me between trees, across rivers, up and down mountains. A slow progress that got slower the weaker I became. My feet throbbed with their own hastened heartbeat. My soles burned from their raw skin. When I struggled to keep up, the alien stopped to study a plant or the soil or to look at its map. As the day went by, I sank into a dream-like state, with a Zen focus on taking one step after the other. I lost track of time, was only partially aware of the fading sunlight. I had no thoughts. Only the concerto of pains ringing through my body. A nerve drumming here. A muscle stretching there. A sore screamed, a cramp answered. 

           In complete darkness, I followed the orange orb. The light traced the contour of the alien’s dark silhouette who paced behind it. Like sinking into abyssal emptiness, treading on the ocean floor. Until I tripped on a root, bumped into a tree. A reminder of how filled the void really was.

           The day returned. It surprised me. I was clueless as to the distance we had covered, how long we had walked, or even if I had slept or not.

           Down a steep slope, I held onto branches not to be pulled forward by gravity. My legs gave in. The world got blurry, hit me from all sides until I found myself lying still, roughed up. The alien came to me upside down. Or maybe I was. It grabbed me, pulled me up. A cold touch, space cold, on my skin. It dragged a finger down my arm. My hair rose with its passage. The tip of the finger stopped on a long scratch, dipped into the trickle of blood. Up to the alien’s face, down on my arm again.

           Its body radiated heat. Soon, drops of white oily liquid emerged from all over its skin, made their way along the vertical furrows, down the arm, the fingers, and landed on the scratch. New tissue formed across the laceration, in little bridges. The flesh took back its territory, swallowed the cut, sealed the blood inside.

           We reached a clearing. My eyes widened. A ranger's cabin rested there. A beaten dirt path led up to it. The umbilical cord to a road, to civilization. To safety, shelter, food, drinks. Humans. My eyes fogged up a bit. A mist that could have been tears.

           The alien stood at the edge of the woods. I walked past it, to the cabin. When I turned, the alien was gone.

           Inside, the ranger, sitting behind a desk, lifted his head. He scanned me from head to toe, wondering what mess had just walked in. His nostrils flinched. Can’t imagine how I smelled. 

           “What are you?” he said.

           “I’ve been lost for days.”

           “A long time?”

           “Yes.”

           He stared at me. Blank face.

           A firepit lay in the corner. Some logs piled up. A stained coffee pot on the counter. A large map of the area on the wall. Coats on hooks near the entrance. Everything in its right place. Everything made sense. 

           “Can you help me?” I said.

           “Help?” He stood up. “Where are we going?”

           “I was lost for days. I need to go to the hospital.”

           “Going to the hospital.”

           He got out, walked toward his truck. I followed. In the grass, a squirrel scratched up in the air, as if trying to climb an invisible tree. I looked toward the woods. The alien was still gone. And yet I felt observed. From no direction in particular. I hurried to get in the truck.

           “I’m so tired,” the ranger said as he climbed in.

           The motor roared.

           “Going to civilization,” he said.

           I lay my head on the window and enjoyed the vibrations. My eyes wanted to shut, crash, black out, but something kept me awake. That feeling. Something off, something watching. I failed to chase it away.

           The trees melted into a blur. The wheels bounced on the uneven ground, sent pebbles knocking under the truck. My eyes locked on a sign on the side of the road. Maybe it could give me a hint of where I was. But as we approached, I saw there was nothing written. Only a reddish wooden board with peeling green paint.

           The ranger stared ahead in complete silence. Except for one word, after we’d been rolling for a while.

           “Lost.”

           He almost muttered it. His blank face bothered me. I wanted reassurance. Stories of other people who got lost and found. Hunting anecdotes. Moose recipes. I hadn’t heard a voice in a while, but I made no attempt at conversation. Something told me to avoid interacting with him.

           We kept driving for I couldn’t tell how long. Always in a straight line. Time stretched and stirred and spun.

And then we passed the green sign again. And again. And again.

The same one. I say it with absolute certainty. We hadn’t turned, had kept straight. I looked at the ranger. Blank. Silent.

My head against the window, I let it happen. Whatever was happening. There wasn’t a thing I could do.

We drove until the truck ran out of gas and came to a stop. The ranger didn’t move a finger, hands still on the wheel, facing ahead. After an hour of stillness, I resigned myself to stepping out of the truck.

In the middle of the dirt road, I walked. One step after the other. At some point, it hit me. How dead the forest was. The trees soaked in silence. Not a bird, not a crack of a branch or a rodent shuffling leaves. No wind. Completely still. As if things would come alive only when they needed to. To put on a show.

I kept walking. Aimless. Hoping for… don’t know what.

All the while, always, being watched.