Forlorn Choices Ch. 01

To the Reader: This story is my first attempt into the genres of horror and suspense. The short tale could be read as a real event or taken as more of a bad dream sequence. As for the situation itself, coyote attacks on a human are incredibly rare but not unheard of, but then maybe the beast is not just a coyote. With living in the deserts of the southwest US, I was able to take from my hiking experiences to flesh out this story. There is no sex here, just suspense, for as people who live where I live know; if you are not smart and prepared the desert will kill you.-Giada

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Janie sat there for another moment upon a dark hued stone chastising herself. She stared down at her left ankle rubbing thin fingers down along her scraped shin feeling the dried streaks of red blood on her skin that had seeped from the multitude of stinging nicks below her knee. She could discern the pain in her ankle, it was sharp and starting to throb. She tried rotating it a little, there was some range of motion but the joint was stiffening and stabbing. What wisdom and experience she had told her she needed to leave her hiking boot on and tied until she got to safety.

She had choices to make, she was alone and knew she could not just stay sitting on this stone miles deep in a canyon wash that was surrounded by further miles and miles of an empty, dry wasteland. In her other hand was her cell phone with no signal at all inside the rocky walls of the desert canyon. The thing was as useless as a rock to her now.

Limping down the canyon trail to the car was the direct option, but it was miles away and her ankle was bad and possibly fractured or trying to climb the slope to the top of the ridge and get a signal. One way was long and painful while the other short and painful but with no guarantee of success. She was never good at making choices.

She put her wide brim hat on her head and with a wobbly motion stood up, the pain in her ankle elicited a cry from her lungs that she felt no desire to contain. Softly Janie sobbed. She steadied herself leaning her hands down on the stone seat, calming her breath before grabbing her pack to sling over her slim shoulders. The water was half gone but she had some old granola and a useless first kit. There was also an old heavy Ka-bar knife in the bottom of her pack that she used for digging in the dirt during her rockhounding ventures. Feeling the heaviness of the pack she set it down again and unloaded the shiny rocks she had collected that morning; she needed her burden lighter, not ponderous.

When she felt ready to cautiously amble she stepped out from under the tall mesquite tree that was shading her resting rock. She could hear her own whimpers when she put weight on her ankle. Her torment obscured the renewed beating heat of the sun she felt. She paused looking up the canyon slope in front of her and the climb that would be involved, telling herself it was worth the effort for she should be able to find a signal on the top of the ridge, one hundred feet, two hundred at the most.

You can do this J; you are alone but don't worry.

She declared in assurance to herself as she slipped her silent phone into her shorts pocket.

Janie's eyes, behind rosy sunglasses, attempted to scout a smart path up the slope, she knew there were vague animal trails in the canyons that were made by the wild burros, but she could not really detect anything. So she was stuck picking out a path for herself among the cactus and the rocks, trying to put all of her weight on her right leg as she started out her careful climb to the ridge top.

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The coyote sat upon the canyon ridge's edge against the cool side of a large rock shading himself from the heat of the direct sun. It was a fine spot for observing the canyon which was often good for hunting.

While resting there and panting to cool himself some movement a ways off down in the wash caught his eye. His instincts cautioned him to stay still and observe as he tried to discern if the movement was a danger or something to hunt. It soon became clear to the coyote that was something large, one of the people; in time he could soon tell they were injured and alone. His desire peaked.

The coyote looked around, studied the canyon wash and smelt the still air. It was odd for one of the people to be so far from their homes and alone. There was no sign of a gun, some of the people carried guns. The coyote had seen guns before having witnessed one of his brothers killed by one. The people could hurl little stones with their guns and cause great harm.

The coyote stayed still not wanting to attract attention to himself, just watched as the lone injured people started to make their way higher along the slope. The coyote was curious why they would travel to the ridge; what were they after. The people were a curious and uncertain animal which made them all the more dangerous, so the coyote reminded himself to stay cautious.

Food was scarce that year, the rains had not come and everything was dry. The coyote and his family now had to travel far to find water and food, pillaging among the big houses of the people on the lighted hill. The coyote thought maybe this is what the people do when they die, injured and useless, they wandered far into the canyon like the other animals do. It was the way of things, life in the desert, and this one appeared to have come here to die, so they would make a good meal for his family.

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Janie was attempting to take careful steps up the incline, trying to place most of her weight on her right foot. She leaned over, hands on big rocks trying to make them her contact points when she hopped with her right leg. Slowly and carefully she moved negotiating the slope and sought out a path between the cactus. The sun was getting higher in the sky but parts of the slope were still in the shadows of the ridge line. She kept focus on her breath and her movements, one thing at a time, each slow and deliberate as she told herself not to panic.

Each painful step of the way Janie was cursing herself. Why did she come out here this morning, alone. She should have not come after Jillian said she could not. Jillian was experiencing symptoms of the virus and could barely get out of bed. Janie's mind lingered on pleasant thoughts of Jillian and hoping she was okay and resting. The thought of her close friend was slightly comforting. Janie swore she would get out of this and go visit Jillian, taking her soup.

Quickly Janie's mind turned again, she should've stayed home and not gone rockhounding; she came here with the thought of finding a nice quartz geode for Jillian for this canyon was littered with quartz: stones now left behind; survival was now what was important.

People die in the desert.

Janie reminded herself.

Part way up Janie rested, leaning on a boulder. She looked back down and was disgusted with herself for she had come up far less than she hoped for. Her ankle started to throb more so after she stopped, the agony was a bit overwhelming as was the task of gaining the top of the ridge. She attempted to encourage herself while fighting back tears.

She unslung her pack and fished out her nearly useless nylon first aid kit, unzipping it and scrounging for the small plastic bottle of Advil kept. She dumped a handful of pills in her hand not even counting them and popped them into her mouth followed by some tepid water from her green liter bottle. She then stood there for a moment, resting on her right foot, hoping a numbness would soon set in and relieve some of her suffering.

Feeling she had stopped long enough, for the slope would not climb itself, Janie then slung her pack and continued her ascent, it was getting steeper which caused her to put more weight on her left ankle. She started repeating a mantra in head.

Please don't let it be broken, please don't let it be broken, just get to the top of the ridge J.

She became increasingly aware of the silence that engulfed her. There were no sounds around her, not even the wind blowing, just the rasp of her own breathing and the drag stomp muffles of her feet over the sand and the rock.

They have helicopters.

She told herself, remembering some distant past event when she looked out onto the desert horizon and watched a helicopter landing and lifting off again, some rescue patrol of the county or BLM.

She looked back again; things always looked steeper when looking down from higher up.

Watch where you are going.

Janie ordered to herself; that is what got her stuck in this situation to start with. She had taken her eyes off the rocky wash path, her ankle turned on a slick rock and she fell down a short embankment. She could feel the memory in her body as she cringed, the sensation lingering that she had stepped on her ankle and not sole of her foot. She could hear herself whimpering as she tried to block the memory from her mind.

You're getting there J.

She told herself the ridge top was closer now, but the slope was getting still steeper. In front of her was a wash bed where water would run during monsoon storms, the small boulders in the vertical bed could work as stepping stones and hand holds to get to the top. She winced as she stepped with her right foot and reached out for the rocks hoping to grab hold of them and lean against them for support and assurance.

Not giving up, she started to crawl up the wash bed, rock by rock reaching with her hands, her badly chipping nails felt rough against the unforgiveness of the stone. Pulling her small body up over the rocks, feeling the hard contours against her small breasts and stomach strained in sweat, thankfully she was not fat and the yoga classes in the town park helped keep her muscles in shape.

Nothing mattered, just getting to the top.

Do not break, you can't break here.

She cried to herself.

You can rest when you're safe, just get to the top, lift yourself J.

That was the echoing mantra in her head. This was no time for fear, and hopefully there are no snakes. That new thought made her pause for a moment and listen more closely for the rattling warning, she hated snakes.

Grabbing a last boulder she clung to it and pulled herself up with a loud groaning effort. She found herself at the top, laying on the hard ground panting and starting to cry in relief that she made it. She gave in to a momentary release of the fear and pain, her forehead down on the sand and tears wetting her cheeks as she sniffled messily. She then wrestled out from under her pack and rolled over, reaching for her phone in her pocket, and that is when she heard it; she was not alone. A new wave of panic chilled Janie to the bone.

She lifted up in a start, sitting and staring in the direction of the noise, it was a petrifying growl. Looking along the ridge she could see it approaching her slowly one step at a time, teeth bared, it was a dog, but not a dog, not even fifty feet away.

A fuckin' coyot'.

The thing had wild fierce hairs standing across its shoulders, obvious fangs showing from its mouth like a wicked crazed smile and demonic yellow eyes. Janie could feel her body run cold in a shudder, fear filling her soul and her heart seizing to burst from her chest. She grabbed her pack as the only shield she had and held it in front of her as the beast approached.

End of Chapter One.