As the situation became more apparent for Trent he found himself pleasantly surprised for two things. First of all, he was happy that he had decided to wear his trusty leather hiking belt. The second source of happiness was also the terrific source of pain to his lower back.
Trent was hanging from a horst and if he had not been wearing his trusty belt he would have reached terminal velocity (~124 mph) before coming to an abrupt halt with a graben. Thus, he would have attained two terminal states in a matter of moments. Giant puzzle pieces that make up the earth's crust move in relation to one another. This is also known as Plate Tectonics. If two of these plate come together, or collide, the crust crumples like the hood of a car that meets and immovable object and mountains are formed. On the other hand when these plates move apart a valley or faults are formed. In these faults are two groups of large blocks of solid rock. The uplifted fault block rocks are called horsts and a graben is dropped or lower fault block.
The jagged piece of rock preventing Trent from getting to know the below graben better was also digging into his back. He felt something moving up his spine and knew almost instantly that it was blood running up his back. With considerable effort, and fifteen minutes of his time, he was able to pull himself off the ledge. As he clung to a nearby tree he peered over the ledge. He knew that he had only himself to blame for the sick feeling he got in his stomach for looking. The thought crossed his mind that the piece of paper (calculus notes) that he seen when he first came to was resting on a smaller ledge that his head would surely had bounced off on his initial (and final) descent.
Trent, not one for carrying on about things that could have happened, quickly took inventory of his situation. Injuries included: one messed up back, one slightly sprained ankle, a big 'ol headache (minor swelling on the back of the head), and sunburn to the head and arms. Supplies included in backpack: one water bottle 1/4 full, Calculus 3 book, one granola bar, small knife, some rope, one cell phone with no signal.
After careful assement of supplies and injuries Trent lowered himself flat to the ground and began to pray. It was a prayer of thanksgiving for his life being spared. But more importantly it was a prayer asking for forgiveness. Although Trent did not know exactly what had happened and how he had got into this particular situation, he did know that he had disobeyed God and that this, among other things, was a result.
As Trent watched the sun dip behind the trees early Sunday night he knew that being lost and finding his way out of this valley was going to be a serious challenge.
It was a magnificent oak. In late autumn it fell as an acorn and was washed along in streams created by a passing thunderstorm. Coming to rest on a flat piece of land it was happy to be covered by a small layer of soil. That same year the U.S. Congress established Yellowstone as the world's first National Park, 1872. The tree heard stories from other older neighboring trees that before it was born there was a mighty war between brothers of our country. As the tree grew it heard of other horrible wars, saw amazing things around and above, and watched as humans built things bigger and higher.
Morgan looked at the old stately oak and the shaded vacant parking space below. It was Tuesday now and Trent's parking spot was still empty. It had been over 24 hours with still no word from him. Every time she tried to call his cell phone all she got was voice-mail. She tried to replay some of their recent conversations over in her head. Where was he going Sunday night? Didn't he say something about going somewhere? The last time they had talked was at church on Sunday morning and she had admitted to herself that she wasn't paying close attention to what Trent was saying. It is hard sometimes to focus when there are many people around and more than one person is talking to you at once. She also admitted that she was keenly engrossed in Laura Donavan's attempts to get Trent's attention. She did remember that he had said something about going down to the old Malum place.
The coffee house on campus was emptying out but there still remained a few students studying or surfing the net on laptops. "I think that he should be here by now Corwin," said Morgan. She looked at her cell phone once again to make sure that it was on and that it had signal. "Don't worry about Trent. He is a big boy and he can take care of himself. Besides, if there was a problem, he'd call," he responded. Morgan thought to herself, "I know. It's not like Trent and I are a couple or anything." She didn't want to say this out loud but Corwin took the opportunity to ask, "So, are you guys a couple or what?" She reached into her "conversation toolbox" and pulled out the "ignore and continue" tool. "Well, I didn't see his car in the lot this morning and he knows that we always meet here after class," she tried. Corwin, without skipping a beat, continued, "No offense Morgan, but I just don't see your parents approving of a guy like Trent." Morgan made a mental note to try a different tool on Corwin next time. She looked at her watch as she stood up to put her bookbag on. "You are probably right. Got to go. See you Wednesday?"
His hand dissappeared for a moment to an inside coat pocket and returned carrying a pack of cigarettes. After lighting it he inhaled deeply causing the end to burn brightly. " 'What' I am talking about is that he is not dead," said the man in white as smoke escaped from his nose and mouth. "Johnny, our master is not going to be happy about this. I remind you once again that you are assigned to me and when you don't do what he commands, I get in trouble also. And I really don't like being on his bad side. He set it up so you could dispose of Trent easily and without any complications," continued the man in the white suit while flicking the cigarette ash meticulously into the ash tray.
The room was well lit and the inside of this three story building was the complete opposite of the outside. It was like something out of a magazine. High expansive ceilings, modern appliances, it was "studio apartment meets traditional high class." No detail was overlooked and from the beginning the place was designed to be camouflaged by the hagard exterior shell. "Trent's not dead?" asked Johnny and then added, "Look Damon, there was no way that he could have lived through that. It's not possible." Before Damon disappeared into thin air he nodded his head slowly and nonchalantly replied, "Let's just say he is still hanging around...."
Hundreds of convex, jiggling puddles rested on the hood and reflected the light of the street lamp above and then became still after the black sedan came to a stop. It had finally stopped raining and the air was as fresh as it could be considering the location. The buildings looked like they had survived a nuclear bomb blast. Close enough to do damage but far enough to leave the structures intact. People did not come to this dark, deserted, and crime filled part of the city to "get away from it all." Two street kids promptly crossed to the other side of the street when they saw this particular vehicle turn the corner. "It's Johnny," said one. "Don't look him in the eye," said the other as they watched the man enclosed in a black trench coat exit his car, climb the steps, and disappear behind the metal door that made a hole in the brick exterior.
Any reasonable person would never think of leaving their vehicle in this part of town for any length of time. Cars got disassembled here like dead grasshoppers on top of an ant hill. Johnny Malum didn't worry.
"Your sloppiness is going to cost you Johnny," came a silky voice from the back room as the metal door slammed shut. Johnny sat down across the room from someone who could have been on the cover of a men's magazine and was dressed to a "T". "What are you talking about and why do you insist on wearing white all the time?" asked Johnny. There was no response. "Well, are you going to answer me or are you going to sit there trying to light your hand on fire?" asked Johnny again. The man was calmly sitting upright with his hand over a lit lighter. "I get homesick sometimes," he said with a sly grin that you would swear came right off a fox.
"If this is heaven," he thought to himself, "then heaven seems fuzzy." A few unfamiliar memories came to him as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking at. He was quicky coming to the realization that he was, in fact, not dead. He knew this because he had been taught that in heaven there would be no pain. And right now the pain was like music coming from a low-rider. It was annoying and he couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
Whatever the white object was in front of him had straight lines and seemed to have weird symbols printed on or near the lines. He could feel the pressure in his head building but on the bright side the pain that was once general in nature was becoming more specific in regards to source. It was coming from his back.
He felt a little silly as he realized that the white object with indeterminate markings was a piece of notebook paper that was four inches from his nose and was upside down from his point of view. This raised an interesting question, "What is my point of view?"
In an instant he knew. Two things gave it away. One was the pressure that was building in his cranium. The other, and more telling, was that after looking around either everything around him was upside down.... or he was.
When he woke up he had no understanding of his surroundings. He did not know the time or place. As he realized these things he began to feel himself become tense, he felt his blood pressure begin to rise quickly. Then he started to relax because he remembered that once he had seen a T.V. show where a guy had woken up and he didn't know where he was or his name. By the end of the show he fallen in love with a woman that at one time had been the sister of a man that had killed his own brother (his brother being the brother of the man that didn't know his name). So he knew that if it worked out in the T.V. show, it had to work out for him.
He had seen her. He had seen blood. The pain was coming for sure. Then- nothing.
"Oh no!" he thought. He tried to put the pieces of puzzle that made up this mess together as he slowly brought things into focus. His mind was cobwebs. The time between the blood and now seemed like forever and a split second all rolled up in one and then nicely folded up and placed on a rack like the towels at a hotel.
Now all he saw was white. "This must be heaven," he thought.
