The Recalcitrant
The sting of seaweed slapping Joey across the face re-awakened him to reality. He'd been daydreaming as he was swimming amongst the tall strands of seaweed growing up from the lake bottom. His thoughts had taken him back many years to the time when his grandfather had warned him about the dangers of swimming alone and the threat of being caught by some unknown water hazard. Joey had listened to him with half an ear, in fact, even his father had warned him of the same thing. But Joey, obstinate as he was, never really gave it much attention. He was young, free, and most of all on his own today, away from the hectic pace of everyday life with his family. His parents had allowed him to go out on his own, "for a while," as they put it, and within certain boundaries. Joey knew that, but curiosity got the best of him and he had ventured beyond his limits as set earlier that morning. Now he was free!
Joey's 14 year-old body glided easily through the clear, cool water that afternoon. The sun blazed down from the sky warming the water to a comfortable 65 degrees. The lake bottom couldn't have been more than 25 feet at its deepest part, but still, it was deep enough to cause death if one wasn't careful. Joey, however, loved the water. He had ever since he was a baby. He swam every chance he got, every chance that is that he could get away from his parents for awhile. Now, at last, Joey's real dream had been realized. His freedom to swim. To swim free and unhindered. To swim, where he pleased, and how he pleased without a care in the world. Besides, how could his parents ever know that he went beyond the limits they had set for him. They were at home, and he wasn't!
Just opposite Joey's home on the lake lived old man McGee. He'd practically grown up with the lake. He was a bachelor, a woodsman, a loner since his wife had died some 40 years earlier. Now, on his own, he stayed to himself as much as possible. Although Joey had seen him many times throughout his life, he had never personally met him. He'd heard stories from his Grandfather of a few run-ins he'd had with McGee, but nothing in any real detail. Still, Joey wondered what McGee was really like. "Was he an evil man?" thought Joey. "Was he just old and gruff looking, or did he really have some evil streak in him?" Questions like these raced through Joey's mind as he swam past the end of the dock that jutted out into the lake like some cooking probe pushed deep into a ham. Joey was in no mood to find out about old man McGee today, and cautiously made his way past the end of his dock headed for the other side of the lake.
Joey's body filled with excitement at the feeling of his new-found freedom, and that in itself impelled him to swim even faster for the small lake outlet on the opposite shore. He'd heard stories about this river that drained the lake continually, but had never been allowed to venture that far to see it. Henry, Joey’s father, had promised to take him there someday, but like most fathers, had never made the time. Joey's interest had always been confined to his own backyard, and rarely any further. But today was going to be different. Joey was headed for the forbidden side of the lake.
As Joey approached the lake's outlet, he could hear the growing roar of the river up ahead. Joey, being the wise boy that he was, decided on a swim closer to shore so as to avoid any possible danger from the pull of the river. What he didn't realize however, were the hidden undercurrents that lie waiting beneath the water like some prehistoric water demon waiting to devour whatever unfortunate soul may venture into its territory. Joey's strong, maturing body swam powerfully through the water like a sharp razor through paper. His heart pounded in excitement as the roar of the river filled the air and echoed off the canyon walls in the distance. Joey neared the mouth of the river, his blood racing through his veins as a bullet does through the air.
As Joey neared the mouth of the river, he suddenly became aware of a strange pulling sensation on the lower portion of his body. He wiggled slightly, trying to shed this feeling as if it were some oversized coat, but to no avail. The sensation stayed with him, in fact, it began to grow. In control, but a bit nervous, Joey moved in closer to shore. It didn't help. The strange feeling was still there. Now, his mind began to panic, he again wiggled, this time with more zeal and turned to head for the shallow waters off the shore. The power of the rivers’ undercurrents was far more than Joey's tiny body could handle. Joey began to drift toward the mouth of the river, quickly gaining momentum like a snowball rolling down a steep hill. Joey, terrified, tried to scream for help. The sounds, however, were inundated by flooding waters as they poured over Joey's body like syrup over ice cream. In a flash, Joey's tiny helpless body was whisked away downstream.
Joey coughed and hacked on the flooding waters that filled his tiny body. His body ached and cried out in pain for someone or something to help it. Joey's mind screamed in agony as it realized the enormity of the mistake it had caused his body to make. Over and over again, Joey's mind kept recalling the words of his mother. "Joey, today we have decided to let you go on your own, farther than we ever have before. If you misuse this privilege today, we may never allow you to do this again." Now, Joey felt, he really would never do it again, because he would soon be dead and unable to do anything. Still, Joey knew he had to at least try, to give it his best shot as he struggled to survive. If nothing else, Joey's father had always taught him to be determined, to have willpower, and to never give up. Joey never felt he would have to use those ingrained teachings, but neither did Joey ever think he would be able to go to the river on his own.
As these thoughts raced through Joey's mind, a large rock loomed out of the water in the distance, behind Joey but in the exact pathway in which he was headed. Joey, still pondering on survival, and trying to figure out what he was going to do, twisted and turned in the turbulent waters to try and stay alive. The power of the waters’ relentless pressure against him kept him from getting a real grip on his body and commanding it to go the direction he wanted. As he struggled to turn in the direction of the current, a violent wave tossed him up out of the water and into the air like a cork released from the top of a champagne bottle. It was at that moment that Joey noticed the rock just ahead. With the force of his release from the water, and the trajectory through the air, Joey knew where he would land. He twisted violently in the air trying to land with his head up so as not to bring more harm to his body than he already had. The force of gravity pulled his limp, helpless body from the air like a deflated balloon falling to earth. With a heart-rending "thud!," Joey's body smashed into the rock the way a beer bottle does when thrown against a brick wall. Blood sprayed into the air from the gash on Joey's side and his body bounced off the rock and back into the raging torrent like a piece of plastic sliding off of a chair. Joey's mind went black.
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The water lapped gently against the canyon walls that lined the calm and serene river. The river, looking more like the filling of a cookie cradled between two wafers of chocolate, flowed gently on in its’ journey toward the sea. The lifeless-looking body of Joey floated easily down the river. Joey's eyes flickered like two candles about to go out. In a flash, he remembered where he was, and scrambled to right himself in the water. At that instant, he fell sideways off the small piece of wood upon which his body had come to rest. His body was drenched and cold as the water in the river had continually swept over him like a large oversize carpet. His body ached, his head pounded and his side throbbed from the enormous gash that yawned open toward the sky.
"Never give up Joey! You must learn to be determined in life, to have willpower, to give it your all! I know you can do it, if you just try!" Joey's father had spoken these words to him many times throughout his life, and now, more than ever, they had real meaning. "I must get back home," Joey thought. "I must give it my all, if not for me, then for the sake of daddy. I know I can, I just have to try!"
Joey surveyed his surroundings looking for a way out. On both sides of the river loomed two enormous vertical walls of pure stone and rock that jutted toward the sky like two immense skyscrapers in the middle of a downtown city. Perhaps it would be easier if he could fly, but then again, even if he could fly, he'd have a real struggle of reaching his goal because of the long, relentless climb he would have to make up out of the canyon. Behind him, he could just see the outline of some trees, presumably where the river made a quick descent into the canyon in which he was now trapped. Ahead of him all he could see were canyon walls looming into the sky above. Judging from the trees he saw behind him, he realized that he must of been knocked out for not more than a few seconds, but long enough to break free of the grip of the rivers power at its mouth. He pondered on his options at hand. He had only one. Turn around, give it his all, and swim upstream back to the lake, his home territory. His only drawback was his tattered and torn body and the weakness in his muscles that had been ripped from him by the river the way a bigger child might take a toy from a smaller child.
"I must try, no matter how much pain is involved," thought Joey. "I can't let daddy down. I will do my best! I will give it my all."
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Old man McGee sat quietly at the end of his dock, fishing pole in hand chewing on a large wad of tobacco. The long gray strands of hair hung down off of his face like moss growing profusely on the overhead branches of a tree. His tattered and ripped overalls gave testimony to the bachelor life-style he'd come to adore so much. His powerful, worn hands gripped the pole like two magnets attracted to each other. A can of worms sat by his side and an old radio pumped out waves of music into the still afternoon air. In the distance, the pleasant, calming sounds of the river floated aimlessly through the air. McGee sighed lightly and mumbled something about the fish not biting today. A small tackle box filled with Peterson brand fishhooks lay by his worms. He turned toward the water and with the skill of a professional basketball player, spit a wad of tobacco into his waiting spittoon that sat precariously on the edge of the dock. "What a day," thought McGee. "Quiet, relaxing, and adventure less, as usual."
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The sun's rays reflected brilliantly off the surface of the river. The bright orange beams of light barreled down into the canyon with enough force to pierce the surface of the water and drive themselves deep into the depths below. Joey struggled onward, destined to reach his goal.
His numb and tired body no longer noticed the loss of blood that slowly trailed behind him in the river the way a spider-web does when blowing on an afternoon breeze. He pushed slowly onward, close to the canyon wall, his eyes focused on the lake ahead. It couldn't take too long, thought Joey as he tirelessly paddled onward upstream to the lake, perhaps an hour, maybe less, to reach the mouth of the river. If Joey's memory served him right, it had only taken a few minutes to be swept downstream, so how could it take that much longer to struggle upstream? Of course, the powerful currents at the head of the river could be a problem, but that could be dealt with when he came to that problem. In the meantime, onward, ever onward. Joey's worn, discolored body moved stealthily and steadily upstream like a microscopic germ in a stream of rushing blood. His goal, the heart of his life, the lake he called home.
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Lumbering downhill to the roaring rapids of the river a large grizzly bear was headed for dinner. "Fish, fish, fish." That's all that filled his tiny mind and immensely powerful body. When he stood, he stood over nine feet tall and weighed over 1500 pounds. His muscles rippled through his body with every crash of his feet to the ground. At a glance, one might think his muscles resembled stiffened gelatin filling a large bowl as they rippled with each pounding step. The rivers deafening roar filled the ears of the grizzly as he crushed the grass and small plants beneath him heading for his evening meal.
Water sprayed into the air as the grizzly crashed into the river to begin his evening routine of finding dinner. The powerful currents of the river lapped at the knees of the grizzly like a gently blowing breeze. His thick, dark, fur was oblivious to the rivers cold, chilling waters and its death-dealing currents that rushed downstream toward the sea. The grizzlies eyes began to roam the water like radar searching for any unusual movement that might indicate dinner was at hand. Within seconds, he was rewarded by reaching down with his large paws and scooping up a beautiful silver trout from the frothy, bubbling waters. In an instant, it disappeared into the depths of the grizzles hungry, powerful jaws. Again the grizzly searched the waters. As he was about to reach down and grab another, beautiful silvery trout, something caught his eye. Downstream about 30 - 40 feet, he noticed something that looked much larger and bigger than the puny trout he had been eating. In fact, it looked much bigger. "Was it really bigger, or did the refraction of the water just make it appear that way?" the grizzly pondered to himself. There's only one way to find out.
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Henry and Martha, Joey's mother, sat quietly next to each other.
"Joey's been gone an awfully long time hasn't he?" Martha queried.
"I was just thinking the same thing," replied Henry.
"I'm sure though that he's just enjoying himself, don't you?"
"Yes, that's probably it," responded Martha. "He knows this is the first time we've let him go out on his own, and I doubt he would misuse his new found freedom for fear of never being able to do this again."
"I'm sure that's the case. Still, I want to have a small talk with him when he returns home about his obligation to stick to our terms we outlined and to be sure not to abuse them," Henry said.
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The pain in Joey's side was beginning to become intense. Still, his determination and willpower to survive and make it home would have been the envy of any Olympic swimmer. With his breath waning, Joey drifted closer to the edge of the river which was now almost in his reach. The shear canyon walls had dwindled quickly as he approached the mouth of the river. Just a few feet more and he could rest a bit before making his ascent up the rapids at the mouth of the river.
Without warning, Joey's tiny, tired, battered body was lifted out of the water like a man on the rebound from a bungee jump. A sudden flash of light had streaked through his mind and an excruciating pain tore through the muscles of his body. Joey felt some of his bones shatter from the impact of the blow he received from the paw of the grizzly bear. His ascent into the air caused him to loose his breath, and everything around him went fuzzy. "This is the end!" moaned Joey as he hurtled through the air like a pole vaulter. "I'm dead!" As he began to descend back toward the water, a massive, black claw dug deeply into his side, just below the gash that already existed there from his previous encounter with the rock. His body hung momentarily on the paw of the grizzly as it began to make a wide arc toward his yawning jaws of death. Joey struggled with all the power he could muster, and as his head entered the orifice of the grizzly's mouth, he fell free, into the swirling water below. Another glancing blow from the grizzly’s other paw sent Joey swirling through the air like a Frisbee. He landed about 20 feet away with a splash into the warmer waters of the lake. Joey, dazed, slowly sank to the bottom of the lake. The grizzly turned, water still dripping from his mouth, and headed back over the hill. His keen ears had detected the sound of a small animal making its way through the forest just on the other side. The grizzly was determined to find out what is was.
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Old man McGee, aroused from his chair by the commotion of the grizzly, stood up and stretched his tired, bedraggled frame for a better look. "Hmmm?" pondered McGee. "Look's like old Grizz is up to his usual evening dinner venture. I wonder what he's eating tonight? Sure hope he's having better success than I am. In fact, maybe I should try a little fishing in his area after he's gone. Maybe I'll be as fortunate as he." McGee, gathered up his fishing gear and slowly wandered back down his dock toward shore. "Yes siree, I'm definitely going to get me some fish tonight!"
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Joey's blurred vision and mangled body slowly rose toward the light filtering down from above. "I've got to get home," mumbled Joey under his breath. "I won't die, I can't die. I have to show dad that I'm worthy, that I can survive, that I do have willpower, and won't let him down. I know I can. I have to." Joey reached the surface of the lake and yearned to be home. "Just a little farther, I'm almost home." He began to swim toward shore. The water was more shallow there, it was easier to maneuver in, and so much easier to swim in, for there he could touch the bottom. If only he could walk, but he knew he couldn't. As Joey slowly swam toward shore, a vision suddenly paralyzed him as he was nearing the shore. There, not more than 8 feet from the water's edge sat old man McGee. At the same instant he saw McGee, McGee saw him. McGee shot to his feet faster than artillery from a catapult to assure himself of what he saw in front of his eyes. "I've never seen the likes of this before!" shouted McGee. "I'm at a loss for words. That grizzly really does know where to do his hunting, doesn't he?" With that, McGee grabbed hold of Joey and carried him to shore. With a glimmer of sadistic pride glittering in his eyes, McGee pulled out his large hunting knife from his tackle box. He laid Joey down on his back and brought the knife around his body and down toward
Joey. Joey lay helplessly in front of McGee, unable to defend himself at all.
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Martha, startled by a noise outside, jumped up. "Joey, Joey, is that you?" There was no response. "Joey, are you there?" Still, no response. "Henry, where are you?"
"Over here," called Henry. "I was just getting ready to go and look for Joey, why?"
"I thought I heard a noise outside, but I guess it was you. I'm beginning to get a little worried now. It's almost dark, and Joey still isn’t home."
"Don't worry Martha. He'll be fine. We've taught him well. Even if he were lost, I know he'd be determined to somehow either get home or let us know he needed help. Besides, he couldn't be that far away. We made sure his boundaries were well within swimming distance of the house."
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The sound of slicing flesh like that of a knife through a watermelon filled Joey's ears. Immediately, he writhed in pain and screamed at the top of his voice for the world to hear. But no one answered. Joey's intestines and other vital entrails poured out on the ground like wine from a bottle. His heart beat faster trying to send its’ vital fluid to Joey's brain. In a last ditch effort to save himself, Joey freed himself from the grasp of McGee's hand. He flipped backward over himself wrapping his entrails around his head in the process. "The lake, the lake, I need to get to the lake!" screamed Joey in blazing pain. "I need to get home! Daddy, mommy, save me!"
McGee, a sparkle in his eyes and a knife in hand quickly retrieved his temporarily lost prize and drug Joey back to shore. With one swipe of his glittering steel, Joeys internal organs fell to the ground with a soft, squishy thump. Joey's mind began to fade rapidly. "Home, home, I want to go home," he tried to cry, but to no avail. As the vital life-sustaining fluid fled from his body like a thief on the run, Joey's mind flashed before him a few last words. "Joey, we both love you so very much. Enjoy your new freedom today, and be home for dinner at a decent hour. Tomorrow, I want to show you the river." Joey's mind faded like the iris of a camera being turned off. His body went limp in McGee’s hands. McGee, turned for home, his dinner in hand.
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Henry swam over to his wife Martha. "I'm about ready to go and look for Joey. Before I go though, could you please check my back fin, it's really been bothering lately."
Martha, her gills rising and falling gently in the quiet waters off of the cove by the edge of old man McGee's dock, quickly swam to Henry's side. "How's that?," she asked, "better?"
"Oh, much better," sighed Henry. "It sure is sore since my close call with that grizzly a couple of days ago. I'll tell you, be careful! He's just out for dinner, and will grab whoever comes along."
Martha finished rubbing Henry's fin down and watched as he swam away heading for the middle of the lake. Martha turned with a sigh, and a look of worry in her eyes. "Dad lived a full and happy life here, we've spent a good number of years here ourselves. I sure hope the same will be true for Joey," Martha queried in her mind. She swam over to the wall of their home hoping for the best. Swimming up to the fishhook that hung on the wall, Martha's mind shot back in time to the incident when Henry almost didn't come home. He'd been snagged in his mouth by one of McGee's prized, home-made hooks. Henry had "gotten away," and to celebrate his escape, he had kept the hook as a trophy. Martha cocked her head slightly to peer at the writing on the side of the hook. "Peterson," she muttered, "I wonder what that means anyway?"
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