I love the outdoors, but after 2 weeks ago I refuse to do it alone anymore.
Most will agree camping with a group is more enjoyable anyways, exchanging stories to see who can rattle everyone else the most, playing cards and even drinking to the point that every story told becomes true to the core. While for most this is preferred, I am not an overly social person so my tolerance for communal interaction will run low more often than not and I’ll take time to myself to focus on nature and relish in the company of my own conscience.
I hit the stop button to turn off my alarm, the 8th time doing so, as I hate the morning and then hate myself more for waking up at 8 instead of my planned 6. I thanked myself for not procrastinating and packing the night before so I could just load up in my car and head out to the wildlife refuge. I told my mother and my friend the trail I planned to go on as I knew their would be little to no service, I did some exploring with said friend a week before and we found a nice small clearing not even 2 miles off trail.
It didn’t take me long at all to reach my destination as I only planned for 2 days and 1 night so I was packing pretty light, I finally had everything pretty much set up around 11-11:30 in the morning. I let out a sigh as I sat down and took in the surrounding forest, the trees towering so tall their canopy shades almost all of my temporary home, I decided to tear into the lunch I packed as the fauna perform their natural symphony around me soothing me into a near melancholic trance. I think to myself how small our problems become when we step back and just catch our breath.
The sun was setting when I woke up from the nap I took around 4, I checked my watch to see it was almost 8 and decided to collect some twigs and straw to light a little campfire for myself even though I knew it wouldn’t get that cold. I had a nice bundle cradled under my arm when I felt it, a small droplet of water that must’ve escaped through the leaves of canopy. I cursed myself for being so bad at planning and not even checking the forecast, thankfully the trees sheltered most of the now drizzling rain, I wasn’t going to waste this wood and tinder, so I used a small tarp I brought to make a shelter for my fire not far from my tent.
My poor excuse of a fire didn’t last long as it became a downpour and instead of the faint glow of the moon to light the night, all I had was my phone flashlight, a small child sized lantern and the strikes of lightning that lit up the whole world in a bright blueish-white glow. Now I would be absolutely furious if I hadn’t opened my bottle of white rum and I actually enjoy listening to rain on a tent. What sound I don’t particularly enjoy is the sound of rubber boots squelching in mud, slowly and almost softly as if the wearer is stalking about to find its prey.
Instantly adrenaline starts coursing through my veins, I have refused to make a sound or even a movement, my plan is if this isn’t a ranger (I’m not that lucky) that I’ll act asleep and catch him by surprise with my camping knife if they try to get in the tent. I pray it’s just someone who stumbled upon me and are rummaging through some of my things outside but who would be out here at 1 in the morning? During a thunderstorm? As I hear them make their round around the tent one more time I can hear the steps reach the side I’m facing and almost on cue a flash of light casts an imposing and intimidating silhouette on the side of the tent.
No more sounds for what felt like ages, when finally I see the tip of a large knife pierce the thin shell of the tent, almost methodically like a surgeon they bring it down as slow and quiet as possible as if not to wake me. I wait and I wait and finally poise myself in a near crouched position as silent as possible, feels like hours as the gash almost reaches halfway. A few more inches and I see a mud caked, black rain boot slowly creep through.
I leap into the gash sending all my body weight forward and as we both let out a startled, primal yell we’re both rolling about in the mud and pouring rain, I can hardly see anything even with the faint glow of the near dead lantern hanging from my tent, but as we wrestle and writhe in the muck trying to keep both our blades at bay I can tell this man is giant. I stand 6’0 at 190 so this man has to be well over 200 and at least 6’5, the adrenaline is coursing through my body but I still clear as day feel a sharp, nearly incapacitating pain right above my right leg, I just know he stabbed me, and deep.
This makes me vulnerable and before I know he has my hand with my knife pinned and is on top of me. “I hate a f-cking fighter” I hear above me, sounding like more of a guttural growl than human speech. “They’ll never find you I’ll make sure of that” I basically gave up after hearing that, I was at his mercy, I accepted my fate and I actually felt kind of at peace… for a moment, then another flash of lightning reveals his face, god that face, covered in mud and scars, his grin was nearly ear to ear, eyes staring me down so hard I felt the pressure from them and instead of feeling fear, this angered me, infuriated me to the very center of my being and with one quick motion I bite the wrist pinning my knife down and before a second passes I swing it with every fiber of strength I have into his chest.
The sound nearly makes me freeze, I expected a wet piercing sound like a movie but instead I hear an awful thump like a loud drum beat as it drives through his breastplate. He falls to the right of me and wasting no time I just keep going and going and the roaring orchestra of each thud and beat mixed with his agonizing groans and yelps sounds so much better than the natural symphony I loved so much before.
After all was said and done I stumbled to my car and drove myself till I got service, and after a week in the hospital I was cleared to go with a pretty bad limp in my right leg. The man was apparently a known violent meth-head who just got finished with a stint in prison for Aggravated assault, burglary, attempted murder and sexual assault along with a string of other misdemeanors and bad deeds. I’m done camping alone.