Nasrallah 1

Peake Nasrallah
Rob Stephens
ENC 3310

Nowhere But Forward

It was approaching sundown, my thoughts were racing as I pondered the potential of the
week ahead, freedom, free to do whatever the hell I wanted I muttered to myself as we drove
down a quiet country rode going at least twenty miles over the speed limit: something Im
honestly not sure the exact value was. Chase, the one driving us at such a ridiculous speed, is and
always will be my closest friend. We first saw each other what felt like generations ago, but it
was really a little over six years that I had known that crazy bastard. Nevertheless, he basically
was my brother, spending Christmases, Thanksgivings, and pretty much every other family
holiday with me and my family. In fact, there were periods of my life, when Chase spent more
time at my house then I did. That was all about to change.
I caught a glimpse of the glossy water through the trees as we neared Lake Hartwell that
Friday afternoon. The difficulty I had containing my excitement was starting to eat at me so I
responded with opening the passenger window to experience the refreshing rush of warm
summer air on my face. My dad thought we were driving up to Chases grandparents house on
the lake to spend a weekend under adult supervision. We had other plans, which pretty much
involved us lying to my dad about the home phone number and lack of service buying us time to
make a trip to my familys lake house (about 40 miles north on the same lake). It felt good to be
on our own and Chase reassured that we would be thoroughly enjoying the limited time we had

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as he brandished a fifth of Jack Daniels having swiped from his moms pantry before we escaped
Atlanta. Which brings me to something critical you should know about Chase and I.
Chase, on multiple occasions, practically managed to save my life through means that he
often had no recollection of. It started as a normal day at school, Mrs. Tiffany greeted me with a
warm smile as I walked through the front doors to the high school building. I responded with,
You look great today, Mrs. Tiff! The white washed walls of the hallway leading to my first
class reminded me as they did every day of how boring private Christian schooling was, with
laminated bible verses and Christian jargon posters hanging in various places for the bored high
school student to gaze upon. About halfway down that familiar walkway, I remembered that the
homework for my AP economics class was due today! Shit, shit, shit! I thought as I ran to the
back lobby in hope that I could copy someones work. I was not particularly surprised when I
discovered the majority of my classmates sitting, standing, and crouching around one table all
frantically writing to beat the bell. Thats when it hit me, it had been ten minutes till 8 after
parking my truck and theres no way I hadnt burned ten minutes talking to Kylie, Shelby, Mrs.
Tiff, and Jake in the hallway before remembering the AP Economics homework. The 8am bell
rang. Fuck! Maybe Mr. Beard would forget to ask for homework today I hopefully thought
as I rushed to class, then realizing that I forgot to turn in my late passes for math homework to
get extra credit and at that moment an elbow caught me in the ribs. I already wanted this day to
end, thinking to myself, What did I do to deserve this? As I was trying to save myself from the
ultimate embarrassment of tripping in the middle of the busiest part of the hallway, I heard a
snicker to my right and managed to make eye contact with the rib-jabber. It was Shelby. Good
one I said with a darkly sarcastic tone right before I stumbled into Mr. Beards classroom. I took
my seat frantically trying to figure out where I had placed the homework sheet that Beard was

Nasrallah 3
about to ask for. The great excuses for my negligence that I had concocted in my journey to class
were starting to fade. I located my Econ binder and lo and behold, it was the completed
homework assignment, but I didnt recognize the handwriting. Alex Bowsher it read at the top
of the page. I quickly erased his name and replaced it with my own in similar script right as
Beard came around to my desk and picked up the piece of paper. Cutting it a little close, he
remarked on my anxiety stricken expression. A shitty start to what could be described as my
shittiest day ever.
It was game day. The long sleeve white, Adidas uniforms we were allowed to wear to
class instead of our mundane Mount Paran polos, gave me a feeling of excitement knowing that I
might get some play time that night, especially since Mount Pisgah was on the schedule (the
worst team in the league). Cole and Jay were sitting to my right discussing how long it would
take for us to mercy rule them in the first half. All I could think about was keeping a perfect
routine: drinking plenty of water, eating protein, staying away from greasy foods, and most
importantly keeping focused. Unfortunately, keeping focused for me consisted of my mind
analyzing every possible way I could screw up during the game and all the reasons why everyone
would laugh me off the field after I made a fool of myself. Something buzzed on my right leg
and without turning my head, I slowly reached my hand to my pocket to check my phone. It was
a text message from Chase, Found a new spot to fish bro, when do you get out today? I sighed
deeply, as if all my stress was pouring out of my nostrils like an old English kettle. It was like my
day had just restarted simply from glancing at my phone and seeing a text. Chase had no idea the
effect he had, but the fact that someone wanted to do something with me outside of school,
soccer, and other bullshit that involved me getting scrutinized by people I disagreed with, made
my day a little brighter.

Nasrallah 4
Roughly twelve hours later, I found myself staring at the clock as it reached eighty
minutes, we were up seven to nothing and I hadnt left the bench other than to get water for my
teammates. Either Coach Farrant is just an asshole or he hates me or both. I thought, sitting
there and cursing the name of Farrant under my breath. I wondered if I said Fuck Farrant
enough times, a bolt of lightning might come down from the sky and pulverize his body so I
wouldnt ever have to see his ugly face again. The starters high-fived each other and belted out
sounds of celebration having won another division match and being ready to enjoy the Friday
night as winners. I didnt feel like a winner, in fact, there was a part of me that wished we had
lost out of pure spite. I avoided their joyful expressions and kept my eyes towards the blades of
grass that brushed against my cleats which were probably the only pair that hadnt made contact
with a game ball.
That Friday afternoon I remember quite vividly, I can still see us drifting on the little
gravel road that led up to our cabin and skidding to a halt out front, but something happened as
the dust cleared around Chases 95 Ford Explorer (the exploder). We both somehow had the
same idea simultaneously, looking at each other with the sound of the 8 oclock train echoing
over the lake bed, Dude, the train bridge is all Chase uttered and before I thought twice
about the situation, we had already driven back to that tiny Baptist church adjacent to train
tracks. After climbing down the steep hillside path that led from the road above, there laid the
two rusty steel girders which had served to transport all types of cargo, passengers, and
equipment for a few years too many. As we walked on the rail line, I started to notice gashes of
considerable size in the center of the left track which initiated a pain of fear in my lower chest
area as if to forebode me from stepping further. And then, there it was, the most interesting
anomaly that existed in my mind. The wooden trestle bridge was now in full view, but paint

Nasrallah 5
brushed in some areas due to the quickly fading sunlight. That bridge is the most defined
structure in the northern part of the lake, it stands high enough to make me cringe just thinking
about the distance between the actual wood planks under the tracks and the lake water below.
Unsurprisingly, Chase made no hesitation to proceed across the bridge challenging me to do as
well. After weighing the odds of death over having a couple minutes of adrenaline pumping
through my veins, I decided I couldnt let my boy down so there I was, performing a balancing
act across a rickety old trestle bridge on a live and very active train track. The decayed remains
of the second track from the once double-trestle bridge didnt exactly ease my anxiety as I
looked down at the now knife-like current flowing at least fifty yards below.
Chase was the first to pick up on it, Hey Peake, what the hell was that? he demanded as
if he dared his own thoughts. I began to hear it too, the whining of steel when a very heavy
object is moving over it at a swift speed. It was an excruciating noise that always had a
shuttering impact on me. Now, in any other circumstance on any other bridge, I would have took
off with a speed that would have left dust flying, but fortunately for my life, I thought twice
before I stepped into a gap between two wooden tresses that would have undoubtedly ended
Peake Nasrallah. It wasnt a joke or a dream, the diesel powered locomotive that travels at speeds
of up to seventy miles per hour up and down the East Coast was heading directly towards me and
there was no escape, except to continue forward. Heart pounding through my skin, I caught a
glimpse of the red Nikes Chase was wearing, giving me a brief moment of relief to know I
wasnt too far behind. That moment ended abruptly when I took a double take before hopping
another gap and saw the familiar CSX engine blue and yellow challenging my existence. Then
that horrible thought crossed my mind, what if this was it? I couldnt bear to accept it. It

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seemed like I had been on that track for hours leaping from plank to plank and the fact that
everything could end right then and there just didnt seem fathomable.
The conductor must have seen my white t-shirt because he initiated a loud, blood
curdling horn from the cock pit which caused my balance to waiver. Just as I thought I would be
flattened or fall and impale myself on the jagged rocks which lay on the edge of the lake, I
contemplated Why was Chase the lucky one? Why did he get to live and not I? It was such a
selfish thought, but at that point I didnt care. All I wanted was a little fairy to pop out of
nowhere and poof me into a safe place where trains didnt exist and neither did pain. A strong
hand tightly grabbed my shoulder waking me from my dismayed thoughts, to my awe and
disbelief, the arm belonged to Chase who was chuckling despite my sense of bewilderment. After
I was safely on the rocky bank, I could do nothing but stare at the hunk of metal moving swiftly
past my winded body and ponder what it would have done to me had Chase not been there.
It seemed like forever, I had been staring at the tracks long after the train had vanished
into the distance attempting to recover from the events that previously took place, but almost
giving up on the idea I would ever actually be the same person. Finally, I heard Chases voice
yell something derogatory from the road below which brought me back to reality. It was now
pitch dark and I could barely make out the dim light emitting from Chases phone screen as he
yelled, We better start walking bro because I sure as hell aint going back over that damn
bridge! It finally occurred to me that our means of transportation was parked on the direct
opposite side of the lake back in Georgia and we were standing on the rural banks of South
Carolina. Fortunately, both of us had been down that road countless times so we could drift on
the various back roads it connected to otherwise our situation wouldve been hopeless. At least
we knew roughly our location because the cell service did not exist, it was pitch black, and God

Nasrallah 7
knows what might pop out of the woods in South Carolina at that time of night. I figured it was
about five miles back to the church where wed parked hours before and we began the trek in the
direction of the next bridge back to Georgia.
There we were, walking along a South Carolina highway cracking offensive jokes and
implementing language that would make even a sailor raise an eyebrow, as if the train incident
had never happened. Maybe Chase and I were crazy. The fact that we might look back on this
and remember the long walk from the bridge back to the car and completely overlook that I
almost got crushed by a train, made me laugh a little. As soon as we made it back into cell
coverage, Chase accused Dude, you said it was five miles! And..? I responded. Google
Maps says its seven! he exclaimed as if two more miles would cause him to have a heart attack
and die.
Once again, we were back in the exploder heading over to the lake cabin to make light of
everything we just encountered. That day I had learned something very important. Simply put, I
learned to be more like Chase. Chase was able to have a near death experience and move on like
nothing happened laughing at it like it wasnt real. Life is short and it took a couple swigs of Jack
Daniels for me to admit my realization. Duuuuddeee! I slurred, What the hell am I doing
man? Chase just laughed at me without responding. Seriously bro, youre right, I need to stop
being a bitch about everything and just live life. It was like I had just spit hundred dollar bills
out of my mouth because Chases eyes lit up to an unnatural level as if he was trying some kind
of mind trick on me.