Rachel's short story

Thirst

Nineteen year old Jo-Jo Jenkins woke from the monotone beeping of her alarm clock. After a couple of moans and grunts she stretched her stiff arm and hit the clock with such force it fell over onto the floor. She flicked her lamp on and sat up from her bed. She stretched and popped her back, still feeling quite tired from lack of sleep.

“Remind me why I’m doing this.” She mumbled to herself.

Jo-Jo had made the final decision the day before (after hours of mental debating) to wake up at 6:30 a.m. to go on a very difficult hike, which would take about a full day. She’d been with Dr. Morister, a very experienced doctor, to discuss what to do to improve her health. Dr. Morister instructed her to do lots of exercising and to eat healthier. This meant hours of jogging, swimming, endless aerobic videos, and a change in diet consisting of no sugar or fat. This was going to be a big change for Jo-Jo, and she knew it, but she knew she needed to be healthier or else face many health problems that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Jo-Jo had decided to start this “new life” with taking a hike up in the East Mountains, called the “Steep Stone Trail.” She knew the hike would be very difficult for her, but she was determined.

Jo-Jo finally dragged herself out of bed and got ready. She slipped on some comfortable gym shorts and an old t-shirt, and then tied the shoelaces of her hiking boots over some thick wool socks. She grabbed her backpack and headed toward the kitchen. She put in some trail mix, dried fruit, carrot sticks, and many delicious flavors of granola bars in her backpack. It got a little chilly this time of year, early November, so she packed her jacket. She put her ipod, earphones, and cell phone in her pocket. She knew that cell phone coverage was only on the trails, so if she walked off the trail her phone was useless. But of course, she wasn’t planning on going off the trail.

Jo-Jo climbed in her aging and rusting faded blue bug and started the ignition. The old bug screeched and growled for a couple of minutes and then roared to life. The radio boomed on: “Breathe…. Just breathe….” the notes and lyrics sang. She turned it down a notch or two, and began humming along. She put the old blue in gear, backed out of her garage, and began the short drive to East Mountains.

She arrived at Steep Stone Trail about twenty minutes later. She grabbed her backpack and slipped out of her rusty automobile. She turned the key a couple times to lock her bug. She began hiking one stone at a time, up and up the trail.

The sweet scent of pine blew with the whistling wind. Jo-Jo crunched the frost beneath her tennis shoes as the path dramatically changed from flat to uphill. She heard the sweet singing of birds; their notes similar to the song she’d heard in the car. The words of the verses swam through her head, she could never remember the exact lyrics. The quick chatter of chipmunks quickly distracted her from the birds. She put on her earphones and pushed the center button for shuffle, “2a.m. and she calls me ‘cause I’m still awake. Can you help me unravel my greatest mistake?”. She kicked some little stones along the path, and hummed along until the song finally sang the lyrics that she could sing along to, “And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl…hmm….. And breathe… just breathe. Oh breathe, just breathe.”

A fork came onto the trail, and she mindlessly strolled to the left dirt path in the forest and continued humming. She was too distracted to notice the sign hidden in the aspen with an arrow pointing to the right stone path. Cell phone coverage did not exist where she was walking.

Jo-Jo chewed on some dried mangos, chomped on some trail mix, and nibbled on granola bars for the next two hours. Her heart pounded, she breathed loud and hard. She sweat profusely and wiped her brow. She scrambled around in her pack for a water bottle, until the truth hit her like a baseball, “Oh, no.” she gasped. Her bottle of water was not in her pack. It never was. It was still in her refrigerator at home, fresh and cold. Her mouth watered with the thought of it untouched. This whole trip was completely ruined because she forgot her water. She placed her hands on her hip in an annoyed form. She scowled and turned around to go back down the mountain to her vehicle.

Hiking for nine hours without water was not good. Her throat burned with agony. Her heart pounded fiercely. Jo-Jo was desperately lost. She had taken so many twists and turns along the trail, she didn’t know where to go now, “I should have grabbed a map!” She exclaimed to herself. The aching in her body was so much to endure. She collapsed on a patch of grass. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled loudly. She didn’t know what to do. She was lost in a forest with no water. If she continued she might turn the wrong way and make herself even more lost.

“My cell phone!” Jo-Jo cheered. She dug her sweaty hand in her pocket and pulled out the phone. She dialed 911. Her small smile soon faded as she realized that her cell phone did not work. She clamped her phone shut.

At 9:24 p.m. Jo-Jo Jenkins, still sitting on that same patch of grass, shivered and shook in the chilly night air. Another tear trailed down her cheek like a waterfall, landing on her raspberry lips, and slipped down onto her chin and descended to the dew grass. She wiped the wet trails off her cheeks and whimpered. Her green eyes darted to some pine trees. Some thing was in the pines. Jo-Jo slowly stood up.

She walked backward, her eyes frozen on the spot. Some bright beady eyes shot at hers. She screeched and ran the opposite direction of the eyes. She leaped across bushes and dodged aspen trees. Jo-Jo’s heart thumped rapidly, pounding her blood through the veins. Her vision blurred as her tears blinded her. Her foot caught under a fallen willow and she landed with a THUD, followed by a discreet, yet painful, CRACK. Jo-Jo wailed with agony. She turned her head and glanced at her foot- that was turned the opposite way it was suppose to be. She sat up on her knees and examined her left foot with discomfort. Her hand nudged the bone- immediately a blood curdling scream escaped her lips. She cried with pain. She began crawling- dragging her broken foot – into a small clearing of maple trees. Her eyes squeezed shut while volcanoes of saltwater poured out.

She plugged in her earphones to distract her from the pain, “Just breathe…” echoed into her ears. As much as she’d heard that song today – it had never made a difference until now. She tearfully sang along, and took in every word and applying them to the situation, “Life’s like an hourglass glued to the table. C’mon Jo-Jo. Breathe. Just breathe.” She chanted to her self.

An hour later Jo-Jo turned to her side and gazed in the trees. She saw a reflection of the bright moon on a big dark oval. Ripples waved through it. Water! There was water! Jo-Jo clung the grass and pulled herself toward her only hope. She bent over the water and gulped in cool, refreshing water. She didn’t care what bad things were in it. All that mattered was that thirst was no longer a hardship. Yes, she had a broken ankle and was terribly lost, but she had water! Her happiness was so full the pain in her foot seemed to have disappeared.

Jo-Jo’s earphones jerked from her ear. From the corner of her eye she saw her small electronic device sinking into the deep lake. She plunged her hand to grasp it, but at the same time her knees slipped and she toppled into the cold depths of the lake.

Jo-Jo’s nose filled rapidly with water as her arms and hands began flailing in the water. She swam with all the strength she had left. Her good foot paddled rapidly. Her broken foot was weighing her down!

Life’s like an hourglass glued to the table.

Jo-Jo swiped the thick moss as she slowly sunk. If only she didn’t go on this stupid hike. Then none of this would have happened. No one can find the rewind button, girl. Jo-Jo’s adrenaline slowly faded.

And breathe…just breathe.

She couldn’t breathe. No matter how much she tried.

Oh, breathe… just breathe.

The final grains of sand tumbled down the funnel of Jo-Jo Jenkins’ hourglass.