Vicky and the Vulture

 

Vicky found herself lost, exactly as she had planned. She walked along the dry riverbed, soaking in the sun as it poured through the open alley of the forest canopy. She figured the river would lead her somewhere; it did not matter where. She loved the smell of summer in the wilderness. She could think of no better place to be.

Her trek ended when she came across a six foot tall barbed wire fence. It had a sign, it read: Private Property, Trespassers Will Be Shot, Survivors Will Be Shot Again. It gave her a chuckle, but this was the end of the proverbial road. She didn't want to walk back the way she came, so she decided to climb up and out of the valley. She followed the fence as a guide.

At the top of the hill. she came to an open plateau. It was dry and rocky. The colors orange and tan blanketed the landscape. She intended to keep following the fence but her movements were restricted by yet another barbed wire fence. This one shot out perpendicular to the first. Through it, and across the plateau, she could see a collection of maple trees that towered over the arid region, like an oasis. She thought they were part of the park.

Confused, she opened her map. The maples were definitely part of the park. This fence must have been an old boundary line that was never removed. Staring down the fence, it seemed to run forever. The maples beckoned her to come, only this fence and a several hundred yards of rocky terrain stood in her way. She made the decision to climb over the fence.

She began by tossing her backpack over. She would climb up the fence at one of the posts. She stepped carefully, making sure the rusty barbs were under the soles of her sandals. At the top, six feet from the ground, she lifted her foot to bring it over. It snagged on a barb. She lost her balance and fell over the fence. Her foot never let go. One of the barbs dug deep into the thin flesh on top of her foot. She was hanging by skin and muscle tissue. The pain was excruciating and she let the wilderness around her know.

Men would describe Vicky as voluptuous, which she knows is just another word for the extra pounds she carried with her. These extra pounds kept her from being able to pull herself up and out of this predicament. She tried kicking her foot loose but was unsuccessful. She was trapped, away from the hiking trail, away from people. She had every reason to panic, but surprisingly, did not. She hung from the fence in the afternoon sun for an hour, before someone came to keep her company.

It was a vulture. It floated down, then hopped over, standing only six feet away from her.

“What do you want?” She knew what he wanted, her to die. “Go away. Go get help.” The exhaustion of hanging for an hour was evidenced in her voice. The bird teetered side to side on his legs. He was much more patient than her.

More than anything, she was thirsty. She had packed enough water for a full day out in the sun, but now it was in a backpack, one foot out of reach.

The bird inched closer. “This isn't going to work V,” she named him. “You have to at least wait until I'm dead. If you want something, I think…dead squirrel…that way…,” the heat was turning her brain to mush.

She hung in her shorts and bra. Her shirt had long been discarded due to the heat. It was a mistake. She could feel her skin cooking in the sun. At least she'll taste good for the bird. She looked at the top of her foot, it was red and swollen. She hoped that the skin would rot and dry up, releasing her. How long would that take? She wasn't even sure it could happen that way.
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Thirty more minutes passed. V became braver as she became weaker. He was now only a few feet away. When he got within arms reach, she took as swipe at him. “Go away.” She tried not to cry, crying would dehydrate her further.
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V flew up to the top of the six foot pole and sat, bobbing his head up and down. Then he took his first peck.

“No!” she screamed. “No, no, no!” She kicked at him with her free foot. It startled the bird. He reared back, still standing on the post. It pecked again, she kicked again. He was going for the dried up blood on her foot.

Vicky couldn't kick the bird away anymore. Her free foot felt too heavy. The bird was now pecking and ripping flesh. Her foot was so numb, she couldn't feel a thing.

Then, she fell to the rocks below. She was free. The bird's bites had cut the skin on the top of her foot, releasing the barb. She picked herself up just in time to see V fly away. She followed him in the sky as he disappeared over the trees.

She drank some water and immediately felt better. She pulled her map out and found the fastest path back to a hiking trail. She hobbled back to civilization, the whole time wishing she could thank the bird. She never saw him again.

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