Lost
The elm trees along the highway had already turned golden rust-brown. Some had already fallen to the ground, forming gentle carpets of color beneath trees and along sidewalks. Ricky breathed in deeply as the cool air rushed passed his face. He enjoyed this time of year. Almost more than summer. Especially the humid days of August they had left behind.
He stared out the window as they raced past pasture land where cattle grazed lazily. Old wooden fence posts rested against sagging barbed wire. Every once in a while a forgotten bale of hay could be seen rotting in the middle of a field. He knew from the change in landscape they were almost there.
When his friend, Steve, and his family moved away from the apartment complex where they were neighbors, they both vowed to remain pen-pals. Maybe even call once in a while, if their parents wouldn't object. And Ricky was glad his dad drove him to Steve's birthday party in July. He was eleven. It was a great party.
"We're here," dad broke into his thoughts. Ricky sat straight in the back seat and arched his shoulders to see out the windshield. Steve was standing in the black asphalt driveway, waving his hands at them.
Steve and his family were among the first homeowners in the new housing subdivision on Long Island. Whenever Rick's family visited Steve's, the boys spent hours - whole days - running across acres of open farm land and marsh in various stages of conversion to houses, parks, schools and shopping areas.
As soon as the car stopped and they piled out, Ricky and Steve set about planning their afternoon adventure exploring in and around the newly framed houses at the farther side of the vast construction site. In short order they found themselves perched atop the rafters of one partially constructed home.
"Hey, let's climb into that one over there," Steve called to him. "Beat ya to it!" he shouted, racing off toward it.
And so the day wore on. Neither Steve nor Ricky noticed the sun moving lower across the sky.
"What's over there?" Ricky pointed toward the field of cattails. "Nothin' special," Steve answered. Then he challenged, "Let's play hide and seek. Hide your eyes and count to a hundred." Without waiting for a reply, he raced off into the weeds.
The cattails swayed gracefully as Rick forced his way through them, pushing further and further into the midst of the field. They were tall cattails...taller than he. And they were so thick he could push through them only with great effort. But they were not his only concern. The darkening sky had caught his attention. He stopped plowing through the weeds and scanned in all directions. He couldn't see a thing except the thin pale stalks around him, and the rapidly darkening sky above.
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