A Small Gray Dot

I hadn’t seen anyone since the woman who’d run from me but on the next street I turned down, there was a man coming towards me. I made another stab at asking for help.

“Hey man, I’m a little turned around. Could you give me some direc—”

The son of a bitch jerked as if I were a venomous snake, and took off across the street running before I could finish. I’m normally a patient man but clomping around on sharp gravel for over an hour in rundown sneakers is hard on the feet – and the temper. At that point I was thirsty, tired, and frustrated. I didn’t try to catch him, but I flung a “Fuck you!” after him.

I shook my head, exasperated. Was everybody in the whole damned place full of loose screws? I mean, I think everyone, including myself, went a little loopy during the Event but those of us who survived eventually more or less regained our sanity. Maybe these hadn’t or if they had, it was of the “less” variety. They didn’t appear to be violent; most of the violent ones were dispatched a while back in one way or another. Of course, you could never be certain they hadn’t overlooked a few…

High intensity anger over the absurd situation had been trying to edge into my consciousness for a while. That wouldn’t lead to anything helpful, so I forced it down and kept going.

Another half-hour and I was about to start knocking on doors again, which probably wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere either but by then, my frustration had ratcheted up and that ever present but suppressed rage was waving its prickly fingers trying to get me to notice. It was late afternoon and with it being mid-Fall, the sun was wending its way down towards the horizon. It would be dark soon, and plodding around lost in Blue Heaven after dark had zero appeal. While I was deciding which house to try first, the crunch of footsteps caught my attention. I looked up. A boy of about twelve or thirteen was coming in my direction on the other side of the street.

Trying to sound calm, I called out, “Hey kid, got a minute?”

He stopped, fidgeting from one foot to the other. I thought he was going to bolt, but, he didn’t.

I was wary but at least he hadn’t taken off running yet, so I walked over, taking care not to appear threatening. I plastered on what I hoped was an reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you stopped, son. I’ve been trying to find my way back to the neighborhood entrance. Can you tell me how to get there?”

He was wearing threadbare jeans and a tattered denim jacket. His hatless head exposed close-cropped black hair. He looked cold. As are kids that age going through a growth spurt, he was gangly, out of proportion while waiting for his body to catch up to his arms and legs. Briefly, memories of my days as a teacher tried to nudge into my head but I squelched them. That life was over and I couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

He stared at me with big brown eyes, before saying solemnly, “You have to keep where you wanna go in mind, mister, and don’t pay no ‘tention to anything else. You do that, you can find your way around okay.”

I studied his face looking for a hint he was shitting me but he seemed to be dead serious, so I said, “Er, okay, son. I’ll keep that in mind. Just this time, though, could you point me in the right direction?”

He hesitated for a second, then nodded and guided me back to the street off which I’d turned that sported a sign that said it was Oakwood Lane. “Keep going that way”- he pointed – “and keep your mind on it else you might git lost again.”

Relief rushed in. “Thank you, son. I appreciate it.”

He dipped his head and started back up the way we’d come. A gust of chill wind cut its way down the street, a foretaste of the winter that was a month and a half away, and the boy shivered and hunched his shoulders as he plodded away.

I tried but failed to dismiss him from my mind.

“Hey kid,” I called. He stopped and turned, his eyebrows going up. I pulled off my hat and held it out to him. “Here, take this.”

His big eyes got bigger and he hesitated before coming back and slowly reaching for the gray knit cap.

“Um, thanks mister.” He fingered it with an expression that was almost reverent, and flashed a hint of a smile as he pulled the cap onto his head and over his ears. I nodded and he gave me a last look showing me a bigger smile before turning and continuing up the street. His step was springier.

Old memories tried once again to surface but I pushed them away and headed in the direction he’d pointed.

The sign on the corner had changed again. Now it was Main, the same one I’d taken when I left Semptor Labs. It was Oakwood a few minutes ago. A chill crawled up the back of my neck. I shivered and decided it was best if I ignored the change.

It sounded implausible when he said it and I didn’t really believe it could work, but, hell, I had nothing to lose, so I took the boy’s advice and kept my mind strictly on the entryway. I didn’t know if that was what did the trick, but that time I made it.