I have no idea what I am doing. I mean in an existential sense. I know what I am doing right now; I’m walking the back roads of rural California because I decided to go for a walk the one day of the month there was going to be a thunderstorm. I actually like the rain, but I still hope to make it home before it starts tonight. From the look of the clouds it is going to be nasty. Really, I am out here trying to clear my head.
My family tries to be nice about it but I can hear it in their tone. Wade, have you figured out what you want to do for a living? When are you going to do something with your life? Trust me, I am as concerned as anyone about my lack of direction. Well that isn’t totally true. But then I think about how I’m a twenty something who still secretly wants to be a superhero and I just feel sad. Maybe I should take that internship Arren’s mom offered me. But just the thought of sitting at a desk all day bores me to tears. A commotion up ahead finally pulls me out of my pity party.
A pickup truck comes barreling down the road towards me, jerking to a stop a top a small bridge. The driver hops out and begins franticly heaving black trash bags from the truck bed over the railing and down into the drainage canal below. I’m amazed that someone besides me is dumb enough to be out in this weather. But I guess this guy really wants to get his littering in before the storm hits, probably hopes that the rain will wash his garbage out to sea.
Something about this guy ticks me off. Some combination of my already crappy mood and his blatant disregard for the environment is making me irrationally angry at this random litterbug. Thus, before I can even consider all the myriad reasons why I shouldn’t, I’m marching over there to call him out. He’s nearly done by the time I reach him.
“Hey, does that look like a trash bin to you?” I say. Finally able to get a good look at him now that his headlights are not blocking my vision, I see the shocked expression on his face. I wonder if maybe I look a little shady myself standing there in my dark grey hoody. Before I can speak again a realization hits me. I know this guy.
“Mark?” I ask in a more unsure voice. His eyes slowly light up in recognition, and the shock on his face metamorphosizes into horror.
“Shit!” He flings the final bag from his truck bed before sprinting to the cab and peeling out, back the way he came.
Was it something I said?
I stand there a little bewildered and a lot grateful that it was just a guy I went to high school with and not a crazed murderer that triggered my ecologically inspired outburst. Some hero I am; can’t even chew out a litterbug with authority.
I didn’t really even know Mark that well when we went to school together. He was just another face in the crowd back then, but I had enough classes with him to get to know him in that passing way that you know people you see often but rarely speak to. All I can remember about him is that he was kind of a jerk. He never seemed like the brightest guy, which is why I’m surprised when his truck makes its turn onto the main road and I can just make out the name stenciled on its side. Elysium Tech. That’s the big R&D company that has been in the news lately promising some kind of new renewable energy source. I let the irony of that one just sort of pass me by. At least he is doing something with himself.
Leaning against the railing, I look down at the collection of black plastic lumps that sit gracelessly among the large stones lining the bottom of the ditch. The thunder in the sky tells me they won’t be there for much longer. I need to head back before the storm hits in earnest, although getting struck by lightning would be just the perfect capper to this day.
However, before I push myself off the railing a strange sound grabs my attention. Below the rumble of the thunder, there is a low rustling and what sounds almost like chirping coming from the ditch. At first, I chalk it up to birds come to take their pick of the spoils below before the water washes it all away, but one glance shows that nothing else is down there. Then I see it move. In the low light I can barely tell, but one of the bags is definitely moving, if only slightly. I really listen and the chirping is also coming from that same bag. What the hell was Mark trying to throw out here?
I can’t let whatever’s in that bag be washed away. I know a person couldn’t fit in a bag that small, but it is still alive and it sounds hurt. Carefully I slide down the bank into the dry riverbed. Tearing through what ended up being several layers of plastic, I finally break through to the struggling mass as, what is now clearly some sort of animal, wiggles free and I stumble back in surprise.
There are no two ways about it; the thing inside that bag looks like a dinosaur. I stare at its beaked head, or at least it’s something pretty close to a dinosaur. Blue eyes meet stormy grey slits and we collectively let out a shriek of surprise. The little creature tries to bolt, but it barely gets a few hobbling steps before it collapses into the dirt. Still frozen by my shock, I realize that this thing is hurt, bad. There are burns all over its body, black chars like you see on overcooked barbecue. It also has a nasty gash in one of its legs, if the trail of blood from the bag to its current position is any clue. After struggling to move for a few moments, it just seems to give up, curling into a quivering ball and letting out whimpering chirps.
It suddenly hits me that this thing is only a baby, can’t be more than a few days old, and already someone has tried to torture it to death. This amazing, impossible thing that shouldn’t even be here, something I have dreamt about seeing since I was a little boy. Wonder pushes the fear out but is soon tinged itself with a deep sadness. My heart aches for this little guy, so I reach out, ignoring everything I know about handling injured animals, and gently stroke down its head and neck. It freezes, but makes no move to break the contact, so I do it again, and again and I keep doing it until its breathing relaxes. Cautiously its big grey eyes move to look at me.
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