A Fork in the Sand

Max pushed aside one bush with his left hand, and then another with his right as he sprinted for his life through the deep forest undergrowth. Rays of light from the evening sun shone between the trees, outlining a small ridge in the landscape not far ahead. Surely he could lose them there, if he could just hold out a bit longer.

“Stop! Turn yourself in now!” The ever distant cries of his flagging pursuers were still motivation enough to keep running as fast as his legs could carry him. He could feel every pounding beat of his heart, each one hurting his chest more than the last. The lactic acid building up with each stride was becoming almost unbearable. But he dare not stop, not yet. 

“We’re losing him. Take the shot! TAKE THE SHOT!”

Max had never touched a gun in his life; he was not that kind of criminal. But that did not stop the law from trying to put him down. He sensed one bullet fly past his left side hitting a tree up ahead. Two seconds later, another passed his right striking the ground. He needed to get out of their line of sight right now, or one of these desperate shots would eventually hit their intended target. Just a few more strides needed and he would be on the other side.

He had no idea how many of them were chasing him, if they had brought sniffer dogs, or helicopters. He just had to make as much ground as possible and hope it would be enough. Eventually he asked all he could of his body and collapsed with a heavy thud and a painful groan. Were they still behind him? He couldn’t hear any sounds above his laboured breathing. He looked around but there were no signs of movement. As he lay there, hiding between some ferns, his heart rate slowed down, his breathing became quieter and quieter, but he still could not hear anything from his pursuers. His ears gradually tuned into another noise, quietly purring in the background. It sounded like the ocean, the faint splashing of water waves continuously washing ashore, although he could not be sure. He had totally lost his bearings in the escape, and didn’t even really know where the prison was located to begin with. They just transported him straight there in a bus after his trial. Was he really even near the coast?

Max pulled himself off the ground and started walking towards the source of the noise. More and more sunlight was shining through between the trees; the forest finally opened up and Max could see a beautiful ocean with a narrow sandy beach running up the coast in both directions. The Sun was about to set over the horizon in the distance. He glanced to his left and could see an old wooden house, built on stilts near the edge of the beach overhanging part of the dry sand. A wooden pier extended from the back porch towards the sea. It too looked old, with several planks missing. His eyes caught sight of something moored to the end of the pier; it was a small speed boat. It barely looked seaworthy, but he didn’t need to go far, just ten miles or so up the coast ought to be enough. 

But he could barely stand, he was exhausted and dehydrated. Maybe he could find food and water inside the house? He could not hear any signs of life from within, no lights, no car parked outside. “Must be my lucky day” he thought to himself.

Max carefully walked up the steps to the front door and turned the handle. It was unlocked but the old iron hinges wailed as he pulled the door open. Max froze, listening for someone to confront this trespasser, but could only hear his quickening breath. As he entered, the floorboards creaked with every footstep, but he was soon relaxed; he knew he was alone in this place now.

The inside felt like a contradiction to his senses; it did not look like anyone had lived here for years, decades even, the furniture was ancient and the lights did not turn on when he flicked the switch; yet there was no dust or cobwebs from what he could see, and it felt comfortably warm inside. He walked through the living room, full of heavy oak furniture, a bookcase, a coffee table and a couple of rocking chairs, but devoid of life, and into the kitchen. There were all the utensils one would expect, but no food. But Max was more thirsty than hungry; maybe the tap still works at least? It coughed out some air but after a few seconds, cold clean water flowed which made Max smile and laugh for the first time in weeks. He downed three glass fulls before his thirst was finally quenched. Through the thin kitchen window, he could see the pier and the speedboat. His route to salvation.

Max knew he shouldn't stay too long in this place; the law could be here soon, but he could afford at least a few minutes to look for medical supplies, a map, anything else that might prove useful before he figured out how he would use this unexpected freedom. He walked back into the living room intending to survey the bookcase. Maybe there would be some useful information there?

"Hello there, young man." said an old lady sitting in the rocking chair. Max stood open-mouthed looking at her. “Where did she come from?” he thought. How could he not have heard her, in this old house where every floorboard creaked with its own unique voice?

"So, tell me about yourself? You must have a good tale to tell about how you came all this way into my humble home here?"

Max did not deal well with surprise questions, as his fraud trial had revealed. "Well, um, I was just hiking through the woods and got lost."

The old lady chuckled slightly to herself, "We both know that's not quite correct, is it Max? My husband used to tell me the odd fib or two as well, but in his final days, he opened up and revealed all to me. And you know, it filled him with so much joy and relief, even as his life slipped away. The truth really can be liberating, you know?" she said back with a smile, looking at an old portrait hanging on the wall.

“How does she know my name?” He was sure he did not say anything about himself. But instead, he felt the strong urge to be honest with her and tell her everything. "No, I'm sorry. I … I was sent to prison for insurance fraud and escaped but the police are chasing me, and then I found this house and was looking for food and drink."

“Why did I say that?”

"See, isn’t that much better now? And I wouldn't be a good host without offering you a cup of tea and some biscuits, would I?" The old lady walked slowly into the kitchen as Max slumped into one of the chairs trying to get his head straight. She was no threat to him, but why did he feel compelled to talk to her, when he knew he should be fleeing this place? She came back a minute later with a full plate of biscuits, and a tray with a ceramic teapot, milk, sugar and some quaint tea cups. “Please, help yourself to whatever you fancy, Max.”

“Oh, thanks”, he said, the strength of his hunger overcoming his sense of confusion at that moment. “The kitchen was empty, wasn’t it?”

"So Max, why would a man still with such a bright future escape from prison and run? Looks to me like a horribly desperate act and completely out of character for someone who seems like a good man on the inside." The old lady's hands were shaking as she sipped on her tea, while maintaining perfect eye contact with her unwitting guest.

"I don't really know. I just saw the chance and I took it. It was almost like instinct. I mean, I just didn’t feel like I belonged in prison. I don’t know how I even found myself there. I just wanted to be free and to have the chance to see my wife.”

“And now you are a fugitive, how would a woman like her take that news? At least if you stayed in prison, she could visit you regularly.”

“I … I don’t know.” - Max stared into the plate of biscuits but his mind was elsewhere - “I just wish I could have stayed straight. I got desperate when things got tough. We needed a deposit for a house and I lost my job and …. She’ll leave me now won’t she?” Max’s gaze returned to the old lady. “Why am I speaking to her about this? It’s none of her business!”

"People make big decisions every day. And mostly their lives go on seemingly in the same direction without consequence or regret. But occasionally they will come to a decision that will change the whole course of their life. And they may not even be aware of the magnitude of their choice. Now I think you’re a good man Max, a good man who made a bad decision one day without thinking of the consequences. But following a bad decision with a worse one, is not how you get your life back on course.”

“What are you saying, that I’m doing the wrong thing? That I should just go back to jail?”

“Right or wrong, is all relative Max. The question you should ask is, what future do you want for yourself? Please take a look outside at the beach.” - The old lady gestured towards a window overlooking the beach. Max stood up and walked over. The disc of red Sun was already half-obscured by the sea as it sank under the horizon. To the left of the pier, three figures were walking on the beach, a man pushing a pram with a newborn inside wiggling their little legs, a woman hugging him, and a young boy running around playing in the sand; he was carrying a bucket and spade building a small sand castle. The father turned to congratulate his son and Max could finally see his face. “Oh my god, it’s me!” As the woman turned her face, he recognised her too, it was his wife Laura.

He turned to face the old lady, “What the hell is this? Is this some kind of prank?”

“Just the end of one possible path Max. There are many others you can take.” He turned his head to look once more at the family, but they had vanished.

“Max, I’m just an old, old woman enjoying her last moments on this Earth. Once you have left my house, what you do will have no consequence over my life. But you will have a decision to make; you are at a turning point in your life Max, and you need to think about which direction you’d like your life to go?”

“I … I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Of course, you know Max. You just need the courage to do the right thing.” The old lady smiled and took a biscuit from the plate and turned away from him to look outside the window.

Max suddenly noticed something in the corner of his eye, an old fashioned black rotary dial telephone. Max had not seen one of those since he was a child. Did it even still work? Was that even there earlier when he came in? He looked at the old lady; she simply smiled back at him and took a sip of her tea. How could he possibly change his life with a simple phone call? He turned around once more to look at the beach. There was only one person he would ever think of calling, only one person who had the power to change his life. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to pick up the phone, and carefully dialled his own number.

Ring, ring. The old lady poured Max and herself another cup of tea as he waited for an answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Laura?”

“Max? Max, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me honey.”

“Thank god, I’ve been so worried. The police were here earlier and they told me what you did. I’ve been hearing they’re hunting you now.”

“I … I have no idea. I don’t know why I did it. I’m sorry.”

“Max, I know you made a big mistake, and we both said horrible things to each other. But please, please don’t run. Please, turn yourself in. I love you.”

“I … I love you too.”

The line suddenly went dead. “Laura?” Was there something wrong with the line? He had to call her back immediately. As he placed down the receiver, he looked up; the old lady had disappeared. The tea pot, the plate of cookies, the cups and saucers, all gone. He glanced briefly to his right and the telephone that he held seconds earlier was gone. He suddenly realised that he could hear the splashing of the waves along the shoreline.

Max tried to make sense of the last few minutes. “What the hell was all that?” Did he just imagine them, or dream them? Maybe the glass of water was laced with some hallucinogen, or was he just so exhausted? “Think Max! You’ve got to go now!” His window of opportunity to escape would shut soon if he hesitated too long.

Max walked back out of the front door and around the house towards the beachfront. There straight ahead, in the direction of the setting sun he could see the speedboat still attached to the pier. The conversation with his wife kept running through his mind “You can’t turn yourself in, surely?”

A few seconds later, Max could hear police sirens in the distance; he turned to his left and could see a narrow dirt road cutting through the forest, and in the distance blue and red flashing lights. The words of the old lady now rung through his head “You will have a decision to make”.

He looked both ways, towards the red and blue lights, and the boat. He started walking over the sand towards the boat with his eyes half-closed. “What are you doing? You can’t turn yourself in?” He looked at the boat thinking of how his life would go if he simply jumped on it. How could he ever possibly see his wife again?

As he kept walking forward, his feet slightly sinking into the wet sand, Max almost tripped over something. He looked down and could see a half-destroyed sand castle, carefully assembled by some child. He knelt down and ran his fingers through the sand. It was real. He frantically tried to reassemble the castle with his hands. “No, no, no.” Tears were running down his face. “What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?” The sirens were getting louder. He was almost out of time.

Max slowly got to his feet and turned to face the approaching flashing lights, his hands slightly trembling. He knew of course all along what life he wanted, and there was only one choice that would take him there. How did the old lady put it, one bad decision followed by a worse one? Not today.