Jonathan D. Scott has published a fantasy novel, a dense historical novel, a rom-com, a collection of short stories, and two middle-grade novels under the name Terry Baldwin. He lives in Lexington, Kentucky with award-winning author Mary Knight, and is trying to decide what he would like to do when he grows up.
~~~
The weather was so beautiful I decided to call in sick. It was mostly a lie, but there really was something to it. I was pretty sick of my job. I had just had my Annual Review and gotten passed over again for a commendation in spite of totally deserving it.
So I shoved a couple of protein bars in my pocket and drove over to Andalusia State Park. It’s an hour and a half or so from here, well off any regular roads. It’s an unspoiled, beautiful wilderness and well worth the drive.
Hardly anyone was there in the middle of the week, which suited me just fine, because I wanted a break from people. I chose the Raven Cliff Loop Trail which winds down and up the mountain and you eventually get a nice view of some river or the other.
I was glad I had taken the protein bars but, as I had forgotten to eat breakfast, I downed both of them in pretty short order. After about an hour on the trail, I also realized I had forgotten to go to the bathroom before I left, so I stepped off the path looking for a nice, private spot to pee. Not that there seemed to be anyone else in the entire park, but you just never know. I had just gotten to the part when I was shaking Old Mister Johnson dry when the whole thing happened. Or, rather, the hole thing.
And it happened so fast, it wasn’t until a few seconds later that realized I had slipped down an embankment and slid into a hole. I mean a deep, dark hole. I later calculated it to be twelve-feet eight-inches deep. I was able to be that accurate because I had plenty of time to think about it. Hours and hours.
The sides were smooth rock with no possibility of getting a handhold and nothing to climb on top of. The fall hadn’t done my knees any favor, and my old corduroy pants were pretty much ruined. I landed nice and hard against my phone, which cracked the screen, but there was no signal anyway. Not in the middle of Andalusia State Park.
Time goes pretty slowly when you’re stuck in a hole with not much room to move. For a while I stared at the rock in front of me and the trees above me. That didn’t hold my attention very long, so I started brooding about getting passed over for a commendation at work. Every day I went by cubicles where people have hung their plaques of commendations on the wall. And I know for a fact that I work as hard or harder than most of them. Brooding may be a good way to pass the time, but not much help in getting out of a hole.
After a few hours I heard voices.
One was a female and one was a male. And they were getting closer.
“Help!” I shouted.
“You hear something?” the girl said.
“I fell down a hole. Can you help me get out?”
“Sounds like somebody yelling ‘help’,” said the man.
“You think it’s real?” she said.
“Yes, it’s real! I’m down here in a hole”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You never know these days. It might be some kind of scam.”
“It’s not a scam. I fell down the embankment and slipped into a hole, and I can’t get out.”
“You’re not supposed to go off the trail,” he shouted.
“I know that now,” I said. “Look, do you have rope or something?”
By this time I could hear them clearly. They were about twenty feet above me, but I couldn’t see them. “Why would I have a rope?” asked the man.
“Sounds a little bogus to me,” she said. “I don’t think we should get involved.”
“Would you please call for help at least?” I could tell I sounded pleading.
“There’s no cell service in the middle of Andalusia State Park,” he said.
“Then please call somebody when you get back.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “It’s just that we’re heading out to the overlook for a picnic, and it might be a long time until we’re where we can call anyone.”
There was something he said that triggered me. “Ah, since you’re going on a picnic, is there some food you could toss down to me. I don’t know how long it’s going to be before somebody comes to rescue me, and I’m starving.”
It sounded like they were whispering.
“You’ll have to speak up,” I said. “I can’t hear you.”
“Well,” said the woman. “When I packed this morning, I hadn’t planned on someone asking us to share. We really only have enough for two.”
“You sure?” I asked. “Not even a few chips?”
They started whispering again.
“Sorry,” she said. “If we had known you’d be asking us, we would have brought more.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. “Okay,” I said.
“Okay,” said the man.
“Okay,” said the woman, but she was already down the trail.
* * *
The light had moved a good bit from left to right in the trees above me by the time I heard voices again.
“Hey!” I shouted.
“Did you hear that, Sister?”
“No,” said another voice.
“I swear I heard someone.”
“Could it have been the voice of the Lord?”
“It sounded like someone shouting, ‘hey’.”
“Probably not the Lord then,” said the second voice.
“Hey!” I shouted again. “I’ve fallen in a hole. I need some help.”
“Where are you?” said the first voice.
“Down here,” I said, “over the edge of the trail. But don’t get too close.”
“What kind of help do you need?”
“Like maybe lowering down a rope. Do you have a rope?”
“I have a sash around my habit.”
“How long is it?”
“What do you think, Sister?” she asked the other one.
“Maybe three feet. Would that help?” she shouted down.
I had to think a little bit about nuns and, frankly, I was feeling a little light-headed. “How about a really long rosary?”
There was silence and one said, “That’s not going to work,” while the other one said, “I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then would you please go get somebody who can help. Like maybe there’s a park ranger back at the parking lot.”
“Did you see a ranger at the parking lot, Sister?”
“No, did you?”
“Well, do either of you have a cell phone?”
“There’s no phone service in the middle of Andalusia State Park,” one of them shouted down to me.
She was right, of course.
“We could pray for you,” she added.
“Maybe four Hail Marys,” said the other one. “Each.”
“Thanks, Sister. If you can remember, please let somebody know I’m down here when you get back to where you have phone service.”
“Will you help me remember, Sister?”
“Oh, may God help me remember! The other day I was looking and looking for my wimple and there it was in my hand.”
“Well, I left Sister Tabatha’s novena underneath her coif and forgot all about it.”
“I can tell you what’s even worse than that…,” said the other one.
I never found out what was worse. They were out of range.
* * *
The forest was pretty much dark before anything else happened. I heard crunching feet and could see a sharp light jumping around in the tree tops.
“Ho!” shouted a voice.
“Hey!” I shouted back.
“Are you the guy who fell into a hole?”
My first impulse was to say something snarky. I was hungry, thirsty, sore and bored. But I realized I should try and be polite anyway. “Yeah,” I said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ranger Doug. You know you’re not supposed to go off the trail.”
“Oh, I know that now. But you guys should really build something over this. Or at least put up a sign warning people.”
Ranger Doug laughed. “That’s a good one. The Park Service doesn’t even have enough money to pay me full time. And you have any idea what a sign costs these days? Here you go,” he said tossing a thick rope over my head.
I felt something clipped to the end of the rope. I managed to get my cracked phone from my pocket and switched on the light. It was a manila envelope. “What’s this?”
“That’s just the standard disclaimer. You need to sign it to say you won’t sue me, the Park Service, or the state if you get maimed or disfigured in the rescue attempt.”
I took the paper out of the envelope and looked the thing over. “Disfigured?”
“Just standard procedure. I can’t save you unless you sign it.”
“I don’t have anything to sign with.”
“Ah, shit,” said Ranger Doug. “Hold on.” He pulled up the envelope and fumbled around for a while before lowering it again.
“A crayon?”
“I picked it up in the parking lot the other day. You wouldn’t believe the things people leave in the park. I once found part of an artificial foot in the port-a-potty.”
I signed the form as best I could. The crayon was pretty dull. He hoisted it up again.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll just need to see two forms of photo ID.”
I had to take a couple of slow breaths. “You can’t see me down here in the dark. Why do you need photo IDs?” “That’s the rules. I can’t rescue you unless I have two forms of photo ID. Like a driver’s license and passport.”
I reached around for my wallet and held my phone light to it. “How about a driver’s license and a picture of me and my old girlfriend in a photo booth?”
“Was it a government-issued photo booth?”
I wondered if he was suspecting me of fraudulently falling into a hole. “I think so,” I said. “It was taken at the State Fair last fall. I’m pretty sure the state government had to issue it, or they wouldn’t have allowed it at a state fair.”
He was quiet for a while, and I think I heard him kicking some stones around. “Maybe,” he said finally. “You got anything else?”
“I have a membership card for Games Plus. It has a picture on it.” It was a kid in front of a gaming console.”
“Is the picture of you?”
I was awfully hungry and tired. “Does it have to be a current photo?”
“I don’t think the regulation says anything about recent a photo it has to be.”
“Then it’s me,” I lied.
“Okay,” he said finally. I think he might have been hungry and tired, too. He tossed down the rope. I put my license and my Game Plus card into the envelope. He pulled it back up, looked them over, and then threw It down again. “Here we go.”
“Okay,” I said. “Hold on tight, I’m climbing up.”
I got about four inches.
“How much you weigh?” Ranger Doug said, sounding like he could barely talk for straining.
“194,” I said, giving myself some leeway for not eating anything except a couple of protein bars that whole day.
“Geezis, this isn’t going to work. I’m going to have to call Search and Rescue. They aren’t going to be happy about it. I think they have bowling league tonight.”
I heard some squawking from his walkie-talkie, and he moved up the path where I couldn’t hear. I thought I caught him saying ‘some big fat guy,’ but I’m not sure.
It was about an hour later when I heard a helicopter roar and it shone Hollywood-type lights all over until they hit me in the face. Then they lowered a chain with a harness that I had to strap under my arms. I pulled the buckles extra tight. I had no desire to get maimed or disfigured.
Up I went, hitting a few times on the sides of the hole but, as I said, my brown corduroy pants were already pretty much ruined. They let me down where the whole thing started (or should I say the hole thing?) and Ranger Doug grabbed me.
“I’m really sorry about this,” I said to him once I had disentangled myself from the harness. “Sorry I caused a big hassle for everyone.”
We started back up the path toward the parking lot. “They’ll probably close the park for good after this,” he said. “The Park Service has been running in the red for years, and they’re always looking for an excuse to cut the budget. It’ll mean me losing my job, but it’s about time I got myself a new career. I always thought I’d enjoy being a rocket scientist. I mean, how hard could that be?”
* * *
It was on the news the next day and, although I didn’t get fired for taking the day off, I did get docked for a day’s pay for lying about being sick.
About a month or so later, I got a special delivery letter from the Governor. He was thanking me for saving taxpayers thousands of dollars a year for my part in the closing of Andalusia State Park. He said the state was selling the land to a developer who planned to put in cluster housing and a water park and would bring cell service to the whole area. It was going to be a windfall for the taxpayers. With the letter was a certificate suitable for framing. It was an official commendation for a job well done. I hung it on the wall of my cubicle.
[ Pikers love feedback! Comment on this article . ]