rival of hot water. He filled the skillet and left it there. James then went back to the table and sat down in the lone chair positioned at the head of the table. He carefully unfolded a large piece of yellow paper. The seams of which were so worn out by the constant attention it almost appeared ancient. The top of the paper read: Check List The list was almost complete, just few of the larger items toward the bottom remained. After making some minor adjustments to the list he then made sure all his camping supplies where accounted for. Fishing gear, flint and striker, MRE’s, a small tarp, 50’ of strong rope, 10’ of snare rope, a first aid kit, a water purification kit and some small comfort items. Packing light was essential for where he was heading. Next, James unfolded an Idaho trail map. The map had his route outlined in red pen. The challenge was making it from San Francisco to Idaho, undetected. He just needed to get north to Twin Falls; if he could make it there safe, the rest was a cinch. He would simply ditch his vehicle and disappear without a trace. From there it was just a matter of following the Snake River into Washington where it met up with the Columbia River, and then he could make his way into Canada. Being a former Marine sniper, James was confident he possessed the knowledge and will power that he could survive almost anywhere in the world. It would be the better part of one thousand miles of semi-rough terrain until he reached his destination. He figured this trek would take him a couple of months to accomplish. If the weather turned for the worse, he could always hitchhike for a couple hundred miles, but that in itself brought on a whole new set of problems. Escaping reality and parting with the world as James new it required meticulous detail, the wrong move could cost him his freedom. He knew his planning had to be precise. James’s cell phone began to chirp and vibrate on the table. James let out an aggravated sigh as he picked up the phone. He hated technology simply for one reason, he could not get a firm grasp of it, nor did he want to. James was stubborn that way. He despised the chirping ringtone his phone made. It reminded him of a terrible attempt to imitate a quail, but computerized with a high pitched robotic squeak. Most of all James hated the fact that he had no clue of how to change it. “Hello,” James said. “Hello, is this James McCoy?” “Ya, you got him.” “Hi there, Mr. McCoy. My name is Stan Olson and I represent Goldman and Flanders. I’m calling to inform you of your obligation to our client. The settlement in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars has been finalized, and, however, we will not actually be collecting on the loan. That’s a different company all together. We are simply informing you of your commitment to our client.” “Commitment?” “Well, contract to our client. Our records show that your next paycheck should be arriving in about five days. Is that correct Mr. McCoy?” 60 theMeadow
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