New Beginnings

By Fiferguy

Six Gemstones of Power, Whole and Pure

Bind Six Forces of Balance, Strong and Sure.

Honor, Justice, and Virtue Sound

Guide Six Beings of Power, Around and Around.

When Six Become One,

And One Become Six,

                  The beatings were getting worse.  This time, Jonathan had a black eye and a broken nose.  When his teachers at school asked him about it, he just said that he had fallen down the stairs.  His crime was nothing more than scoring a ninety-eight out of one hundred on his last math test.

                  A boy of eighteen, he was already a junior in college, and working on double degrees in math and business.  He was a quiet boy, and since he was younger than everyone in his class by at least three years, he didn’t have many friends.  That suited him just fine, since his parents didn’t like him to have friends anyway.  He had tried to bring a friend over to study about 6 years ago, and his father had chased him away with a shotgun.

                  As he walked toward his first class at Boise State, he was thinking about his parents.  Despite having a perfect grade point, his parents still weren’t happy with his scores, as his black eye proved.  He didn’t really enjoy math or business, but his parents were ruthless in their determination to make him into a businessman.  Jonathan didn’t want to be a businessman; he’d seen the problems from Enron, Halliburton, and others that treated their workers like worthless junk all in the name of profit.  Something about that practice disturbed him deeply, and he didn’t want to be a part of that at all.  He wanted to go into the Forest Service, or some sort of science that would help the Earth and mankind.  But his parents were forcing him to be the very thing he hated the most.

                  His musings brought him to his first class, business economics.  Sighing to himself, he entered the classroom, and took a seat near the back of the room.  Business economics was a simple class for Jonathan; more like an elementary math class.  This day, however, there was a guest lecturer, here to speak on some subject that he would need to know as a manager some day.

                  “Good morning class, we have a special guest today,” began Professor Martin Lansky, a rather portly man with a bald pate and a ring of white hair, “I suggest you pay attention to him, as most of what he is going to talk about will save you hundreds of thousands of dollars for your business in the long run.”

                  Money.  It was always about money.  Of course, this was business economics, but Jonathan thought it ironic that the class wasn’t so much about how to balance the cost of running a business with the cost of the service, or profit margins, or anything like that.  It was more on how to squeeze more money out of people by any means necessary.  Things like purposefully only doing one thing at a time, instead of multitasking to save time.  Things like charging for every small thing, no matter how insignificant, such as a paper clip.  It really grated on his nerves the things that his instructor said were good business practice.

                  The guest, a thin, weasel-faced man, was dressed in a smart blue suit and red tie.  He looked to be in his mid-forties, and his black hair was starting to show just a little gray.  He was, all in all, not a bad looking man, but not a truly handsome man.  Someone that wouldn’t really stick in someone’s memory, but someone that stood out in a room despite that fact.  However, when he spoke, his voice would be burned into someone’s mind forever.  It was a high, nasally voice that seemed to be like fingers scraping across a chalkboard.

                  “Good morning,” the man said in his acidic voice.  “My name is Robert Scrimshaw.  I am a representative from International Industrial Relations.  My company is in the business of helping companies avoid a plague that is infesting organizations today.  That plague is Unionization.  Unions are the worst things than can happen to a business.”

                  Jonathan was appalled.  He couldn’t believe that his instructor would bring in someone to specifically educate people how to keep a union out of their business.  He believed that as long as the workers were happy, a union wasn’t necessary.  But he also knew that unions helped to keep management from getting too greedy and taking advantage of workers.  He believed that if the workers wanted to unionize to protect their voice, it was their right to do it.  And Jonathan wasn’t going to do anything about it.

                  Jonathan sat there as Mr. Scrimshaw droned on about the bad parts of a union, and became more and more disgusted with every passing minute.  Finally, after about forty-five minutes of listening to the weasel-faced man, Mr. Scrimshaw said something that Jonathan had to comment on.

                  “And, after you have defeated the unionization attempt, you can lay off any employee that was trying to unionize.”

                  Jonathan couldn’t believe it.  The man, if he could be called that, was telling people to break the law.  He had to say something, and so he raised his hand.
                  “I see we have a question,” stated Mr. Scrimshaw upon noticing Jonathan’s hand.

                  “Yes, Sir.  What you just told us to do is immoral and illegal.  The National Labor Relations Board has strict rules against that sort of thing.”

                  “Ah, yes.  But, there is nothing in the NLRB about firing someone for ‘Performance Issues,’ now is there?”  Mr. Scrimshaw winked, why making air-quotes with his fingers.  “If an unfair labor complaint is filed, it will have no ground because the person will be terminated because of performance issues, not labor union involvement.”

                  “But sir, isn’t that a very delicate line?  One that perhaps is immoral?”

                  “Young man, if the employee is worth anything, he or she will be able to find another job shortly.  And, odds are, you’ll be able to find someone to replace them at a cheaper pay scale, which will mean a higher profit margin for you,” Mr. Scrimshaw smirked.

                  “But,” Jonathan started, “Since companies and management pay you to come into a company, and educate people on the ‘evils of a union,’” he said making the same air-quotes with his fingers, “then how are they saving money?  I would imagine that the fee you charge is roughly equivalent to any increase a union would have, so where is the benefit of having an anti-union movement versus just giving the workers a union in the first place?”

                  “It’s simple numbers, boy.  Unions give workers protections that make a lot of paperwork.  Paper costs money, as do the workers that shuffle the paper.  Also, union workers get a contract that says they get specific things that cannot be taken away without renegotiating the contract.  If they don’t have a contract, you can offer incentives to make them reach a goal, and then take it away when the goal is met.”

                  “That’s underhanded.”

                  “Perhaps.  But business is about making money.  Whoever makes the most money, wins.”

                  Jonathan lapsed into silence at that statement, musing about what Scrimshaw had said.  But no matter how hard he thought about it, he just couldn’t justify that kind of trickery.  If you said you were going to do something, you did it.  There just wasn’t any leeway.  Despite what his parents had told him, he knew that honesty and integrity were more important than money.  It was dishonorable to lie and cheat your way to the top—that if you couldn’t get something honestly, it wasn’t worth having.

                  He was startled out of his musings by the movement of the students toward the door, and he packed up his notebook and headed for the door himself.  Before he got there, however, Professor Lansky stopped him.

                  “Jonathan, could I have a word with you?” he asked as he motioned Jonathan to follow him.

                  “Sure, Professor.” Jonathan followed Professor Lansky to his desk, and sat down across from the aging professor after Professor Lansky was situated at his desk.

                  “Jonathan, that display earlier was unacceptable.  I will be contacting your parents about your behavior in class today, and discussing your continuation in my class with the Dean.”

                  Jonathan was dumbfounded.

                  “What did I do professor?  I thought I raised a valid question, especially after he blatantly told us to break the law.”

                  “What you did is insult our guest.  What you did was take a pro-union standpoint, which is absolutely unacceptable in a business school.  What you did was accuse an honored guest of being deceitful, and drawing attention to yourself.  That is unacceptable.  Now, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Professor, if that was an honorable guest, I have no desire to be an honored guest anywhere anymore,” Jonathan stated as he headed to the door, “Don’t look for me tomorrow.”

And with that, Jonathan walked out.

As he walked home, Jonathan couldn’t believe that he’d said that to his professor.  When his parents got word of it, they were going to kill him.  Since the beatings were getting worse and worse, that may not be far from the truth.  He decided that it might be time to think about a different course if he lived through the punishment he knew was coming.  Jonathan was a slim boy, about six feet tall, with dark brown hair and deep green eyes.  He wasn’t overly muscular, but he was in shape.  His parents made him take swimming lessons at the local YMCA, since they thought that a skinny businessman had a better chance than a fat one.  However, not being the biggest person in the world, he wasn’t able to defend himself like someone of a larger size.  Not that it would have mattered.  His father probably would use a baseball bat instead of fists if Jonathan was a larger man.

He mused on various things as he walked home, wondering what he was going to do.  His professor was going to inform his parents of his speaking out in business economics, and he was most likely going to get beaten for it.  He was expecting it.  What he was mostly thinking about was a course of action if he survived the beating.  Jonathan was sick and tired of getting beaten regularly, and he was sick and tired of being forced into a life that he didn’t have any control over.

He decided that it would be better to leave it all behind.  Now that he was eighteen, he didn’t legally have to do what his parent’s said.  He could strike out on his own.  How exactly he was going to do that, he didn’t know, but he would do something.  His first thought was that no matter where he went, his parents would try to find him and drag him back.  That left few options—then he remembered that his parents hated anything that wasn’t in a city.  That meant he could run to the wilds, somewhere his parents would never go.  The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.  He knew his chances for survival weren’t that good, but he’d go anyway.  The thought of dying in the mountains—dying a free man—was like a balm to his troubled soul.

Along the route he walked to get home, he passed the university’s library.  He decided to stop in and find a book about wilderness survival, so he could start learning about things he would need to know to survive in the wilderness.  He walked up to the information desk, where a rather short, gray-haired lady was sitting drinking a cup of tea.

“Excuse me ma’am, but could you help me?” he asked her politely.

“What can I help you with, young man?” she smiled up from her tea.

“I’m looking for a book on wilderness survival.  It’s for…a class project.”

“Sure, let me check,” she said as she turned to her computer terminal to search the catalog.  “Ah, here’s one.  ‘Outdoor Survival Skills’ by Larry Dean Olsen is a very good one, and also, ‘The Encyclopedia of Edible Plants of North America,’ should help you with your research.  What kind of class project is this?” she asked him as she wrote down the locations of both books.

“A writing project, Ma’am.  I’m supposed to research real world things to use in a fictional story, and I’m writing a survival story,” he said with a grin, impressed with his own improvised reason.

“Ah, that works then,” she said with a wry chuckle.

After he had found the books, which surprisingly enough had many color photographs as well as text descriptions of everything, he headed home occupying his mind with the possibilities of finally being free.

The first thing he noticed when he came around the corner and could see his house was the blue Chevrolet truck parked in the driveway.  That meant his father was home.  He looked at his watch, and realized with a start that he was an hour late, and that meant his parents would be even angrier with him.  He steeled himself for the beating that was about to happen, and walked calmly up the stairs.  Walking in the door, he made it as far as the living room before someone grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around.  A large fist came flying toward his face, and as it struck, all he could think was “I hope I live through this.”

                  Jonathan was floating in an ocean of darkness.  All around him, there was nothing but blackness, and a strange, shimmering music seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.  The music was oddly choral, as if a single voice couldn’t possibly contain the emotion of the simple melody.  He listened to that music for a long time, though with no sun or watch, it was impossible to tell exactly how long.  But slowly, almost imperceptibly, the darkness began to lighten into a dark gray.  Out of the lightening black, Jonathan began to notice a spot that was brighter than the rest.  Focusing on that spot, he watched as it seemed to grow bigger and brighter, appearing to come closer to him, though it was impossible to tell whether he was going to it or it was coming to him.

                  After a while, the brightness started to take shape.  It was tall and fairly thin, and kept approaching Jonathan slowly.  It grew brighter and brighter, until it was almost painful to look at and Jonathan had to turn his head from it.  All of a sudden, the light dimmed significantly, and when Jonathan turned to where it had been, Jonathan was startled to see the image of a man looking back at him.  It was a tall man of almost six and a half feet, with blonde hair and blue eyes.  He was dressed in a long robe of the purest white that Jonathan had ever seen.  On his feet were simple leather sandals, and a blue cloak was fastened at his shoulder with a large silver brooch.

                  “Jonathan Ashton.  I have come to give you a message and gift.  Neither you will remember when you awaken shortly, but they will become apparent in time,” the man said in a curious voice, one which seemed to have many voices singing inside it, as if one voice wasn’t enough for the man.

                  “What is this place?” Jonathan asked him shakily, clearly terrified out of his mind.

                  “This is a place between places,” the man said cryptically, “and you have no reason to be frightened.  Your time is not yet, and you will return from whence you came.”

                  With that, the man came closer to Jonathan, and placed his hands on either side of Jonathan’s head with his thumbs on either of his temples.  Suddenly, a scorching pain ran through Jonathan’s head, and he screamed a scream of utter terror and torture.  The pain lasted mere moments, but afterward a feeling of completion filled Jonathan…he felt more alive, and more complete than he ever had before.  It was like he was missing something for his whole life, and didn’t realize it till that moment, when he finally had that which he was lacking.

                  “And now, I return you to your home.  You will not remember this meeting for many years.  You now have that which you require to fulfill your destiny.”

                  And with that, the strange man touched Jonathan on the forehead, and Jonathan sank once again into unconsciousness.

                  When Jonathan awoke the next time, all he could feel was pain.  The very act of breathing was torture, and it required more effort to open his eyes than he had.  The effort of trying to open his eyes proved to be too much, and sent him spiraling back into unconsciousness.

                  When next he swam out of the ocean of unconsciousness, the pain wasn’t quite as severe.  This time, he managed to get his eyes open, and could hear the radio playing.  Or rather, he could open one eye, as something seemed to be keeping him from opening his left eye.  He noticed that the room was dark, and it was strangely unfamiliar.  Moving his head around as much as he could through the pain, he noticed that he was in a hospital room.  His parents must have really beaten him hard this time if he was banged up enough to warrant a visit to the local hospital.

                  “He’s awake!” he heard someone shout out the door, and then someone was hovering above him.  Looking up at the mystery person, he noticed the person was dressed in hospital scrubs and had on a surgical facemask and safety glasses.  Behind the glasses was the darkest grey eyes he’d ever seen, and he had to wonder how her eyes got to be that color.  For it was definitely a she—long red hair was tied in a tail behind her, and two large mounds in her scrubs definitely identified her as female.

                  “Don’t worry Jonathan, I’m here to watch over you,” she cooed to him, and then disappeared from his view.  He almost panicked until he saw another masked figure appear over him.

                  “Don’t try to speak,” the deep voice said to him.  “I’m Dr. Trainor.  You’ve been in a coma for 3 days now.”

                  The doctor then proceeded to do a very thorough yet brief examination of Jonathan, checking his overall condition.  As he finished shining a bright light in Jonathan’s eyes, he spoke again.

                  “Now, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.  In time, all your questions will be answered, but for right now, I just want you to lie there.  I might answer some of the questions that you have, and I might not.  I don’t want you to try to speak right now…there has been some damage to your throat, and I don’t want you putting any strain on it.

                  “The first thing you’re probably wondering is what happened.  Well, I can answer some of that.  According to your parents, they found you beaten and unconscious just inside the living room of your house.  There were some things missing, and they assume you walked in to a burglar, and he turned violent.  The police have a statement, but without any description of the assailant, there’s not much hope.”

                  Yeah right, it was a burglar.  It was my parents, you prick, Jonathan thought icily.

                  “Well, at any rate, he beat you so soundly that it put you in a coma.  You have 3 broken ribs, a broken arm, a skull fracture, a broken nose, and some damage to your throat area.  One of your eyes is swollen shut, but it should heal.  It looks like he tried to strangle you, but something either scared him, or he changed his mind.  The assault put you in a coma.  So now, the real question…How do you feel?”

                  “Pain…” Jonathan croaked out.

                  “I understand,” began Dr. Trainor, “unfortunately, we’ve already given you as much pain medication as we can.  We’ll give you some more in about 4 hours, but until that time we can’t give you any more.

                  “Now, in a day or two when you’re feeling stronger, we’d like to ask you some questions.  During a coma, it’s standard procedure at this hospital to monitor brain function.  Well, yesterday, we noticed some very high brain activity for about 20 minutes.  Since that time, everything’s been normal, however, we’d like to talk to you to verify that everything’s all right, and that you didn’t suffer any brain trauma that we can’t see.  As soon as your feeling well enough, we’d also like to do another MRI of your brain to make sure we didn’t miss anything the first time.”

                  Something tickled Jonathan’s mind at the mention of increased brain activity, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  Every time he tried to remember, the feeling that he knew the cause would get distant, and reemerge when he stopped thinking about it.  He didn’t know how he knew, or what it meant, but he knew that there was no trauma to his brain.  He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

                  “Now, Jonathan, I would like for you to rest.  Try to sleep if you can,” the doctor said as he left.  “If you have any problems, ask Hope for help.  But try not to stress yourself too much, as we don’t want you injuring your throat again.”

                   Once the doctor was gone, Jonathan started mentally take stock of his body.  He could feel the injuries that the doctor was talking about, but more than that, he realized that he wasn’t in as much pain as he thought he should be.  Must be the drugs, he thought.  He could move all his fingers and toes, and so he didn’t think that his motor function had been impaired, and all his senses seemed to be working correctly, except the eye that wouldn’t open.

                  “You seem to be doing a lot better,” Hope started as she leaned over him.  Gone were the mask and glasses, and in their place was an image of beauty.  High cheekbones graced her rather narrow, heart-shaped face.  Her smooth skin virtually glowed in the fluorescent lights, and her full lips smiled around a set of the whitest teeth that Jonathan had ever seen.  “Can I get you anything?”

                  “Can I have something to drink?” Jonathan croaked over his parched throat.

                  “Sure, but not too much.”

                  After adjusting his bed so that he was in more of a sitting position, Hope held a large hospital jug with a drinking straw, and Jonathan sipped some cold water down his throat.  He immediately felt better, and for some strange reason, stronger.  Sitting up a little straighter, he began to really notice the room.  It was a rather sterile room with no decorations of any kind.  There was a lot of equipment, most of it attached to Jonathan in some way or another.  Several IV’s fed various things into Jonathan’s arm, and a tube carrying urine went from under the blanket to another machine.

                  “How are you feeling?”

                  “I’m doing better now that you’re here.”  Where did that come from?  I shouldn’t have said that.

                  “You’re sweet.  Now, I think you should lean back and try to sleep some.  This is the intensive care unit, since you were in a coma, and right now you’re my only patient.  If you need something, there’s a call button by your right hand.  Push that and I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

                  Hope lowered his bed back down, and almost as soon as his head was back in the horizontal, Jonathan was fast asleep.

                  Hope sat the water jug on the table beside his bed, and started for the door.  She stopped at the door and turned to look at Jonathan.

                  “Mistress, is he the one?”  Hope asked under her breath as she gazed on his sleeping form.

                  Yes, he is the one, came the disembodied voice, speaking directly into Hope’s mind, Take care with this one, for he will be powerful.  My only charge to you is that you watch over him while he is here.  Once he leaves, you are free to return home.

                  “Will I ever see him again?”

                  Most certainly.  Your part in this is not yet finished.  Be strong, for you have much to do before your task is finished.

                  “I hear, and obey, my mistress.”

                  With that, the sense of her mistress was gone, and she felt as though a small part of her had been taken.  Looking down at the young man, she couldn’t help but feel happiness.

                  Soon, Jonathan Ashton, she thought, your destiny will be upon you.  Turning around, she left him to his sleep, and thoughts of the future running through her head.

                  The next morning, Jonathan awoke early.  He could feel that there were two people in the room, though he didn’t know how he knew that.  As the soft voices that were coming from those two people became clearer, he realized that it was his parents.

                  “You know the little wimp was out the first time you hit him?” his mother asked coldly.

                  “Yeah, the puny kid couldn’t even take one hit.  I think it’s time to think about getting rid of him permanently,” his father replied.

                  “You mean, just kill him off?”

                  “Heavens no, woman.  Ship him off.  Send him to that boarding school in Massachusetts.  If nothing else, they’ll be able to beat some sense into him.  There’d be too much evidence if we just out and out killed him.”

                  “Isn’t that going to be expensive?  I don’t want to spend any money on him any more than I have to,” his mother said with as much disdain as she could get into her voice.

                  “It won’t cost us anything.  I sent them his grades and his test scores, and they’ve given him a full scholarship.  It will be free for us.”

                  “Well, that makes an easy way to get rid of him.  What about after he graduates?”

                  “Who cares?  If he tries to come home, we’ll just kick him out.”

                  “Sounds like a good plan.”

                  “I’ll make the arrangements,” his father said with an icy air of finality.  Jonathan felt his parents leave the room, and it was confirmed when the door softly latched shut.

                  As he lay there, he started thinking about what he needed to do next.  This time, his parents had nearly killed him.  That much was apparent to him, and he realized that if he did something to anger his parents again, he would probably not live through it.  And now they were planning on sending him off to some boarding school, just to get rid of him.  And his father’s comment about beating it in to him didn’t sit well either.  He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.  He would have to speed up his plans on leaving, and head to the mountains.  He needed to find a place where he could hide through the winter, and a place where both flora and fauna would be plentiful.  The perfect place, he realized, is the Rocky Mountains, particularly northwestern Montana, or perhaps Northeastern Idaho.  Far from people, and plenty of game and edible plants.  That’s where he would head when he made his run.

                  Now that he had a destination, he needed to think about what he wanted to take with him.  Thinking back to the books he’d gotten from the library, he realized that he still needed to do some research before he could really make a list.  He doubted that his parents would send him off before the end of the school year, so he would make his run right before the end of school.  That gave him a good 9 weeks to do his research and gather supplies.

                  Now, where am I going to hide my supplies?  He racked his brain, and realized the perfect place to store them until the time he could leave.  Between his house and the university was an old train trestle bridge running over a small river.  Under that bridge, the river had carved out the bank, creating several caves that would work perfectly to hide his things.  Then, he could just grab them, and head up river.  That would give him a significant head start over his parents trying to find him since they would start on the roads and civilization.  Jonathan had grown tired of civilization, and intended to stay far away from civilization as much possible.  Now, the only thing is to survive long enough to get out of here.

                  The next 9 weeks were pure hell for Jonathan.

                  He was stuck in the hospital for 2 weeks while his ribs healed, and while the doctors ran tests on his brain.  His brain was still showing above average activity, but the doctors couldn’t find out any kind of reason why.  Since there wasn’t an injury that they could find, they let him go home.

                  Home was interesting.  Jonathan didn’t want to let on that he knew what his parent’s had planned, but at the same time, he needed to prepare for his eventual departure.  The hardest part was finding a way to research survival techniques while keeping his parents in the dark.  He finally just lied to them, and told them that he had a project for his macroeconomics class that he would have to research at the library.  So for three hours a day after class, Jonathan would read in the library anything he could find on survival, plants, animals, and anything else he though he would need to survive.  The librarian that had helped him before, Deborah Phillips, was extremely helpful in locating information for him.

                  “Thanks, Mrs. Phillips, you’ve really helped me with this project.”

                  “It’s no problem Jonathan.  I’m happy to help.  Just think of me when you run off though, okay?”

                  Jonathan was floored.  “How…I mean, what do you mean, run off?”

                  “Come now young man.  Your research has all been about practical skills, not about historical things.  You haven’t read anything about anyone who has actually done this.  You’ve been preparing to run away.  The why of it, I don’t know, but you’re running.  And by the books on the Rockies, I’d say you’re headed north,” she smirked at him.

                  “Well,” he started nervously, “you caught me.  You aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

                  “Of course not.  I’ve seen your research, and I’ve also seen your supplies under the bridge.  I followed you home one day, and I saw you take something down under there, so I looked,” she said to his obvious question.  “And I won’t tell your parents.  You’re full grown, and if you’re running, I figure you have a very good reason.  I’ve seen your preparations, and I’m not worried about you making it.  However, I can think of a couple things that will help you along.  Come back to my office with me.”

                  Rising, Jonathan and Mrs. Phillips walked back to a small back room.  It was sparsely furnished, having only a wooden desk, a simple chair, and a desk lamp.  It was immaculately clean—everything had a place and everything was in its place.  Sitting beside the desk was a sturdy looking leather backpack, and a long staff.

                  Picking up the backpack, Mrs. Phillips began emptying its contents onto the desk.  Several paper wrapped bundles soon filled the smooth walnut desktop.  She handed one to Jonathan, and looked at him expectantly.

                  Gingerly, Jonathan opened the first bundle.  The brown paper parted revealing a beautiful knife.  It was about a foot long, with a mirror polished Bowie-style blade.  The pommel of the knife was carved brass in the image of a hawk’s head, and the guard was also of carved brass, looking like two licks of flame curling away from the walnut handle.  Gently running his finger across the blade, he found that it was razor sharp.  A beautifully finished leather sheath came with it, and inside a little pouch on the outside of it was a sharpening stone.

                  “That is a titanium alloy blade, and a diamond dust hone to sharpen it with.  It will work a lot better than that old rusted thing you had under the bridge,” Mrs. Phillips smiled at him.

                  “I…don’t know what to say.  Thank you, thank you very much,” Jonathan managed to say after a few minutes of staring at his new knife.  “I can’t ever pay you for any of this.”

                  “Son, I’ve been around a long time.  Every once in a while, it feels good to do something for someone just because.  Not for any specific reason, but I know what it’s like to have wanderlust.  Just remember me when you’re gone, and that’ll be thanks enough.”

                  Jonathan continued to unwrap packages, and found many things that he’d overlooked, or better versions of things that he’d already gotten.  One of these was a compass, but was a very nice, all weather compass.  It was much nicer than the cheap compass he had, and he was very glad for it.  Also included was a waterproof container to store kindling, and inside was almost a pound of lint, dry mouse nests, and other small, easily combustible materials. 

                  Also in the packages was a ten-inch cast iron Dutch oven, complete with tripod legs so it could be placed directly in the fire.  Jonathan hadn’t even thought about cookware, and he was glad that Mrs. Phillips had gotten him the pot.  Inside the pot were several iron utensils, ones that looked like they had been forged.  A couple forks, spoons, and several skewers nested quite nicely in the cookware.

                  “My nephew’s hobby is blacksmithing, and he made these for me when he was still learning.  I thought that they would serve you better than they do me…all of my pans are non-stick, and I have to use plastic,” she said with a grin.

                  “These are great,” Jonathan said with an awed look in his eye, “Now I won’t have to cook in a leaf and use a stick to stir it with.”

                  “The bag is yours as well.  I saw that worn out school bag you had down there, and it won’t last more than a week.  Also, this will work really well,” she said, handing him the staff sitting beside her desk, “for fishing, or to make a spear, or whatever you need it for.”

                  It was a beautiful walnut staff, about a foot longer than he was tall, and almost two inches thick.  Jonathan was awestruck.  All his life, he had never been given so many gifts.  Usually from his parents all he got was lectures on how he needed to improve, or things like clothes.  Never had he received such lavish gifts.  What struck him to the core though, was that they were given freely, with no expectation of payment of any kind.

                  He looked over at her, and was about to say something, when he noticed a slight shimmering around her.  But just as he saw it, it vanished.  Weird, he thought, I thought she was almost glowing there for a second.  I guess I was just imagining things.

                  After thanking her several more times for her gifts, Jonathan gathered his new belongings and headed home.  He carried his new leather backpack like it was the greatest treasure in the world, and strolled easily to the bridge where he’d hidden his things.  Quickly looking around to make sure that no one was watching him, he hurriedly jumped the guardrail and disappeared under the bridge.  He ran up to his hidden bag, and sat absolutely still for about fifteen minutes.  Once he was sure that he wasn’t being followed, he began to transfer all his belongings into his new bag.  He kept everything, even the old, battered knife he bought at a pawnshop for a dollar.  He reasoned that he could use it in an emergency, if nothing else.

                  Once his belongings were safely stowed away in his new bag, he carefully hid it again under the bridge, and glanced at his watch.  He realized that he had almost an hour before he had to be home, so he decided to sit there and listen to the river for a few minutes.  Jonathan realized that life didn’t get any better than this—just sitting and enjoying the simple pleasures.  He watched idly as a woodpecker started pecking at the wood on the bridge, and just simply relaxed.  He looked forward to the day that he could do this all the time—a day when he would be free.  When he would be free to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it.  A day when he would be free to just live.

                  Jonathan didn’t notice the lone figure watching him from the trees.

                  Tomorrow was the last day of school, and the last day Jonathan’s old life.  Strangely, as much as he hated it, he almost didn’t want to leave the life he had.  Despite his parent’s brutal treatment of him, and their driving need to make him into something that they themselves never could be, it was the fear of the unknown that was making him have second thoughts.  Not that those thoughts had much of a footing—every time he would have one of those thoughts, he would also think about the beating that put him in the hospital, and that was just over being home a little late.  It was sad really…life could have been much sweeter for Jonathan, if only his parents would have opened their eyes and noticed that he would have been much happier—and much more successful—if they would have let him pursue his own dreams.  But things weren’t always the way one would like, and his life wasn’t what he wanted.  Tomorrow was a day where Jonathan would make the best of the situation, and start to head his life in the way he wanted to go.  He knew that he would be forever away from civilization, and that suited him just fine.  In his short lifespan, he had seen very little good things from mankind, and he was ready to leave it behind.  At least in nature, everything had a place, and everything had a purpose.  From the greatest beast to the smallest wild flower, everything had a place and everything was in its place.  It was, for lack of a better word, perfect.  The flaw in nature was only realized with man.

                  No, that wasn’t right either.  Jonathan knew that it wasn’t necessarily all men.  But the human species was the only species that Jonathan had ever seen that consciously enjoyed hurting people.  And the myriad ways that a man was able to inflict pain on his fellows was mind boggling, and Jonathan had seen several of those ways personally.  From the terrorist bombings of the last half-century to the blatant disregard for the human condition that was taught in his business classes, Jonathan was sick and tired of it.

                  In nature, Jonathan thought, it was different.  Yes, there was pain and suffering, but it was not without purpose.  A bear didn’t kill just for the pleasure.  An eagle didn’t torture its prey over and over for the enjoyment of watching them suffer.  It was a simpler life, one where each individual strove for only one thing—to simply live their life as long as they could.  It was a simple life—a life that often ended in a simple death.  He knew that no matter what happened, he was going to die out there, but he was comfortable with that.  Better a simple death from a simple life than a long slow death of torture at the hands of some manager somewhere.  Or worse yet, if he should be corrupted by the society that was thrust upon him, and become the cruel torturer of someone else.

                  Jonathan shuddered at that thought.  He didn’t think he would be able to live with himself that should come to pass.  It would be better to die now than for that to happen.

                  No, he would just walk away from all the evil in the world. He would find a nice spot somewhere in the mountains, and just live free.  He would be free from the violence, the hatred, and the cynicism of this society.  Even if it killed him.