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Solitudeby Michael Mc ConeA rotten wind blew in from the ocean. It picked at theparched scrub grass and tossed the brittle, long-since-droppedleaves from a distant oak. A slate marine layer hid the sunleaving everything damp, but nourishing nothing. A pitted andcracked two lane highway wended north and south along the coast.Alone, a man backpacked his way north. He wouldn’t havecalled this stretch desolate, but it was. The cliffs and oceanbelow to his left and the scrub hills to his right offeredlittle in the way of majestic views. It was the same ocean andthe same hills that he had seen under the same gray sky that hehad seen since he began this leg of his journey in the earlymorning.After hiking as long and as far as he had, Brian was used tothe strange looks he got when passing through a remote town. He
 
Mc Conewas used to the normal looks, but the looks he had been giventhat morning had been so… he didn’t know what they had been so,but they were different. He rubbed his neck, trying to relievethe tension he felt just thinking about those looks. Had he beenforced to describe the looks he would have had to say they weretinged with remorse and pity.He wasn’t out begging. He wasn’t homeless or in need ofmoney if that’s what they thought. In fact he had a niceapartment back in Long Beach and a job that he loved in a citythat was bearable. That’s why he was out backpacking along thecoast. When the city became too much he would leave it allbehind for a week or two and hike along lonely highways torefill what he saw as his own inner reserve of solitude. Afterthat he could go another couple of months in the city.He was on the sixth day of this trek and knew that it wasgoing to be another long one. Work had been extra stressful. Hehad been the leader for the new project. He had had his nose tothe grindstone, as it were, up until the last possible minute.The constant phone calls from his team members, constantmeetings, constant, constant, constant had stripped him ofeverything. He was tired. More than that, he hadn’t had anyalone time since the project began. It had taken him three dayson the road just to unwind.2
 
Mc ConeThe sound of a car driving north drew his attention. He wason the south-bound side of the road, walking against the flow oftraffic, as any hiker knew you should. No seasoned hiker trusteda car to stay on the road. Drivers had a nasty habit of seeingonly other cars and veering toward pedestrians. On this roadthat had been a non-issue though. This was the first car to passhim in hours. He turned and walked backwards to see an olderVolkswagen Rabbit approaching. It was slowing down.The driver pulled to a stop, not bothering to pull off theroad, rolled his window down, and stuck his head out.“You need a ride,” he called.“No thanks,” Brian said. “The whole point of this trip wasto get away from people.”“Well you picked a helluva place to do that,” the man said.“Course if you don’t stop you should be able to make it to townwith light left to spare. You’re sure now?”“I’m sure, but thanks.”Brian waved and the man took off rolling his window back up.Brian began walking north again and glanced out to sea. There,out on the water a ray of sun had broken through and was shiningdown through the murk. It made for a dazzling display promptinghim to pull out his camera and snap off a couple of photos. Hecrouched to get a shot of the light through the dead grass andsaw what looked like a trail heading down the cliff.3
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mohansuramya7228

Gripping! Excellent stuff.

reply05 / 12 / 2009
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