Chapter 1

“But whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world.” Plato, Allegory of the Cave

Stacy Mack remembered two things from military training: how to hide when his life was in danger and how to make sure he got enough water and food to survive while he was doing so. Both tasks were a little harder since he’d been wounded in Iraq, but he knew that he could still pull it all off. It beat living with his parents any longer, or putting up with the physical and occupational therapy he’d had to endure.

Every day he sat at a round table with OT’s who put him through the paces as he tried to stack blocks. His left side, paralyzed from an IED and shrapnel that caused brain injuries, required retraining through daily exercises. The monotony of it made him want to scream, but worse yet was the frustration at his inability to make his body do simple tasks.

Stacy told his parents a few days ago at breakfast that he couldn’t do it any longer and wasn’t going to the hospital.

“Are you a quitter?” his father asked him point blank. Rick Mack, too, was an ex-Marine, but hadn’t been wounded. He hadn’t even gone to war. However, he thought he knew what Stacy needed — not the coddling his mother gave him, but the tough love and discipline Marines were used to.

“No, sir,” Stacy said, his voice slurring slightly. “But I-“

“No buts, son. You’re going. We all have to do things we don’t want to. Think I want to go to work this morning?”

“No,” Stacy said quietly.

“You bet your ass I don’t want to,” Rick said.

“Maybe he should take a break,” Ann Mack said, reaching over to patt Stacy’s shoulder.

Rick gave her a warning look and Ann pulled her hand back. “Why? He’s not sick. You’re not sick, are you, Stacy?”

Stacy shook his head no.

“Good then. It’s settled. I have my job, you have your job, your mother has hers. What you could do,” he said, smiling at Ann “is make us a special dinner for tonight.”

Ann bit her lip, nodded, and then looked at Stacy who was staring at an untouched plate of food. If Rick wasn’t there, she’d have spooned it into her son’s mouth. She understood Stacy’s frustration with his slow progress, this boy of hers who used to ride motorcycles because he liked to go fast. He never did have much patience and now he was being asked to muster up more of it than any person would find easy.

“Come on, son,” Rick said as he stood up. “I’ll take you over to the hospital myself today. No bus.”

Stacy grabbed his backpack and followed his father out the door and into the red Buick. They drove silently along the streets, Stacy holding the backpack on his lap, feeling the stashed water bottles and nutrition bars around every time his father turned the wheel. He smiled slightly, and ran a hand over hair that was finally growing out.

It was nice to look like a civilian again. Unlike some other war vets, Stacy never wore military T-shirts or clothing. He was done with all of that. What he wanted now was to be 100 per cent of what he used to be, have his life back as it was before enlisting.

Rick pulled up in front of the hospital. “Alright, son. I’m sure you’ll try your hardest today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have your bus pass for later? Need any money?”

“Yes, sir. No, sir.” Stacy opened the car door, then stood for a moment.

“What is it, son?”

He looked at his father. Rick’s hair was gray now and thinning. The fawn colored sports jacket he wore didn’t match his black pants and over the years his paunch had grown. Stacy couldn’t understand why he couldn’t stand up to Rick, even after facing enemy fire. He wanted to just tell him off, but couldn’t find the words. Or whatever else it took. Like everything else he tried to do lately, he felt a wave of discouragement ripple through him before even making the attempt.

“Nothing, Dad. Nothing,” he said, waving and heading into the lobby.

Ten minutes later, Stacy was walking along the highway, thumbing a ride. He put on his Iraq vet cap, unworn until now, and the second driver that came along picked him .
“Least I can do for one of you guys,” she said. Her name was Marie Osterbuck. She taught English as a second language at night and worked as a waitress at a local diner during the afternoons. She was wearing a pink waitress outfit with a ruffled skirt and her thighs weren’t covered as she shifted gears in her 1996 Camaro.

“Great car,” he said to her, staring at her thighs.

Marie followed his eyes and smiled. “Yeah, great car. So what do you drive?”

He shrugged. “Can’t yet. Used to drive a motorcycle.”

“You will again,” she said, straining to understand his words and wondering if that was ever likely.

Stacy cringed as she gave him a fake smile, one that let him know what she was really thinking.

“Must be tough,” she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, staring out of the window now. He’d asked her to take him out to the boonies, to a ranch resort he worked at as a teen called the Double K. Stacy hoped he could hide out there. He knew the terrain and figured he could stay out of sight as long as he needed to, until he was better enough that no one would notice his problems and identify him. At age twenty three, he was running away to a place that once felt safe, that opened the whole world to him.

They passed a roadside stand, one selling ice cream and burgers to folks as they headed out toward the interstate. Marie pulled in suddenly, parking the car in the back of the lot under a shade tree.

“You hungry?” he asked her.

“Not particularly,” she said. “I usually get something at work. But the question is, are you?”

“No, I just had breakf-“ he started to say, then saw her unbuttoning the top of her pink uniform. Stacy’s mouth dropped slightly, but he managed to pull it up. He quickly pushed his backpack into the back seat of the car, then let Marie guide his hand to her right breast, around its nipple and down toward her panties.

“Sure you are,” Marie said soothingly. “I bet you’re very hungry.”

She dropped him off forty five minutes later at the entrance to the Double K ranch. Stacy almost forgot his backpack, which would have been worth it, but would also have made things more difficult. He waved to her and realized he would miss one person now as he entered a self-imposed hermit’s existence.

Life always did that to you, he thought. Just when you made up your mind to take a direction, it threw you a new direction.

The Double K ranch had a mile-long driveway leading up to it, but Stacy didn’t want anyone seeing him approaching, so he did what he used to do when he was late for work years ago – he bypassed the entrance and walked toward the ranch through the slightly wooded area next to it. He’d brought a compass that he checked regularly, not wanting to walk too much out of his way. He’d have to exert enough energy just setting up camp.

Halfway there, Stacy pulled out a folding cane to help him along. His walking was better, but tired him. Although he tried not to use a cane, he kept one with him now all the time, knowing that if he missed the bus he’d need it. It was another thing Rick criticized him for, so he tried not to use it at home. He remembered he was still wearing his ‘Disabled Vet’ hat and he yanked it off and stuffed it back into the knapsack as he pulled out the cane. He almost flung it at a tree stump, but decided it might come in handy again.

As he made his way along, he couldn’t help but wonder how much faster his recovery might have been if the OT’s had given him free reign over what activities he could use to improve his arm and hand function. Blocks, he had discovered, weren’t much of an incentive. He felt he’d made more progress this morning than he had in the past four weeks.

* * *

The cave was much as he remembered, set back from a copse of trees, its opening hidden by brush. As Stacy hacked his way through the bushes, he stared up at the noon sun and smiled. Perfect. He could nap now, recover from his journey and then explore deeper into the cave to find a permanent spot.

He laid down the tarp on the floor of the cave right inside its mouth, rolled his towel up as a pillow and slowly lowered himself to the ground, letting his cane clatter to the floor as he used the knapsack to help him down in increments. The hard ground welcomed his tired body and he was soon fast asleep in the cool darkness.

According to his watch, it was four p.m. by the time he woke up. His stomach was growling. He smiled, remembering the roadside stand, but wished he’d picked up a few burgers while there. Opening up his knapsack, he grabbed a nutrition bar and chewed it, swallowing down the pieces with water. He knew there was a spring fairly close by that he could find after dark to replenish his water supply, but wasn’t sure if hunting for food was going to be practical. Although he disliked the thought, he knew the ranch owner ate well and the garbage usually contained leftovers. In a pinch, that would have to do once his supply of bars ran out. For now, he was more interested in finding a spot further inside the cave, on the slight chance someone might happen by.

Seventy-five feet in, the cave separated into two parts. Stacy took the left branch, remembering that it led to a larger and more comfortable area and found the spot about fifteen minutes later and carefully settled in for the night. Reluctantly he turned off the flashlight in the darkness, feeling a bit vulnerable. Then he laughed, remembering that the worst he might encounter were bats, but his cane would be enough to ward them off.

Tired, stomach full, he lay down wondering when his parents would realize he wasn’t coming home. He smiled slightly and then fell asleep.

Copyright 2008 Ruth Harrigan