Giant Steps
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! It was approaching fast. Too fast. In the pitch black of 3:00 AM, it was too dark to see how close it was. In fact, it was too dark to see where he was even going. Jerry sprinted through the woods, the tree branches tearing at his arms and legs, thorns and leaves scratching like claws as he shielded his face. Wind filled his ears as the darkness blasted past him. Jerry’s throat was sore and his lungs gasped for air. But he knew he couldn’t stop. The line dancers from Trinity Episcopal School stomped after him, each step getting louder and louder as they gained on Jerry. The train of high-schoolers left nothing but twigs as they powered through the forest, all six feet apart. Jerry spotted what appeared to be a low-hanging branch ahead of him. Before he could react, however, the branch rushed to him and met his eyes.
Jerry blinked, squinting at the stars that looked down on him. What happened? Feeling a throbbing pain on his forehead, he touched the area but immediately stopped after a pulse of pain. Coming to his senses, Jerry sat up and looked around. He was lying on the ground in a ditch in the middle of the forest. He suddenly remembered what had happened before: the Trinity line dancers had chased him through the woods. That branch must have knocked me out, he realized.
Where are the line dancers? The stampede was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the night, but the moon cast just enough light to see a path through the forest on the opposite side of the ditch as him. Jerry raised himself from the wet ground, wobbling slightly; he was still dizzy from the impact of the tree branch. Slowly, he walked to the path and inspected the ground. It was littered with broken branches, and any grass that remained was flattened. Jerry cautiously felt around for footprints. There were a lot of them. Too many. Every footprint had a large heel. “Cowboy boots,” Jerry muttered. They must have flown past me after I fell in the ditch.
Jerry began to follow the line dancers’ path through the woods: his only way back to civilization. Deep down, however, Jerry knew that the line dancers would be back. They always came back. His cracked but functioning watch read 5:30 AM—he had been knocked out for two and a half hours. Just a while longer until the line dancers had to return to Trinity for morning meeting. Apprehensively, Jerry followed their trail.
It was still pitch black, and Jerry felt like he was being watched. He was out in the open, the forest echoing his footsteps. It felt like crickets were chirping at him. He nearly jumped every time a deer hopped out of the forest and looked at him, or a squirrel moved around in a nearby tree. Finally, he came along a street where the footsteps left the woods. Wait a minute, Jerry thought. I know where this is! He knew the nearest place along the road: a Walmart. Seeking shelter, he headed in that direction.
Soon enough, Jerry saw the Walmart, but it was completely destroyed. The bricks and metal formed a heap of rubble along with the snacks none of the line dancers wanted. A chill crept up Jerry’s spine. The faint sound of music broke the stillness of the night. Country music. It was getting louder. He heard stomping.
They’re coming, he thought.
Jerry blinked, squinting at the stars that looked down on him. What happened? Feeling a throbbing pain on his forehead, he touched the area but immediately stopped after a pulse of pain. Coming to his senses, Jerry sat up and looked around. He was lying on the ground in a ditch in the middle of the forest. He suddenly remembered what had happened before: the Trinity line dancers had chased him through the woods. That branch must have knocked me out, he realized.
Where are the line dancers? The stampede was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the night, but the moon cast just enough light to see a path through the forest on the opposite side of the ditch as him. Jerry raised himself from the wet ground, wobbling slightly; he was still dizzy from the impact of the tree branch. Slowly, he walked to the path and inspected the ground. It was littered with broken branches, and any grass that remained was flattened. Jerry cautiously felt around for footprints. There were a lot of them. Too many. Every footprint had a large heel. “Cowboy boots,” Jerry muttered. They must have flown past me after I fell in the ditch.
Jerry began to follow the line dancers’ path through the woods: his only way back to civilization. Deep down, however, Jerry knew that the line dancers would be back. They always came back. His cracked but functioning watch read 5:30 AM—he had been knocked out for two and a half hours. Just a while longer until the line dancers had to return to Trinity for morning meeting. Apprehensively, Jerry followed their trail.
It was still pitch black, and Jerry felt like he was being watched. He was out in the open, the forest echoing his footsteps. It felt like crickets were chirping at him. He nearly jumped every time a deer hopped out of the forest and looked at him, or a squirrel moved around in a nearby tree. Finally, he came along a street where the footsteps left the woods. Wait a minute, Jerry thought. I know where this is! He knew the nearest place along the road: a Walmart. Seeking shelter, he headed in that direction.
Soon enough, Jerry saw the Walmart, but it was completely destroyed. The bricks and metal formed a heap of rubble along with the snacks none of the line dancers wanted. A chill crept up Jerry’s spine. The faint sound of music broke the stillness of the night. Country music. It was getting louder. He heard stomping.
They’re coming, he thought.