Over the River Draft #2

A Story by Red

This is a second look at my first written story. I really wanted to give it a second chance, and I took more time with it.

It was dark, cold, and wooded in the upper east Canfield mountains. A small group of men, armed to the teeth, were going around the base of the mountain, planting odd looking boxes with dial pads wired into each one. There were seven, and they were all located at the mountains weakest parts of their structural integrity. There were a total of fourteen men, each one wearing the same parka coat, cameo cargo pants, and weapons like no one’s business. They had ski masks pulled up over their noses, and polarized sun glasses.The interesting thing was that each one had a tattoo of a triangle, with a line through the center, and star in the center of the line. It wasn’t visible because their masks were covering the strange symbol. Seven men were on the inside of the stone goliaths, and seven on the outside of the mountains. Their plan for their “greater world” was impeccable and overall unflawed. The mountains surrounded Canfield’s national park, were some of the America's most beautiful and endangered creatures roamed. The next day was the biggest tourist day, and every year, on that day, almost four hundred people entered that park. The suicide soldiers would enter the park, on behalf of their secret army, and detonate the bombs that were placed around the mountains, this way they couldn't be traced over a wireless detonation. The team rendezvoused in the center of the park, waiting for there pickup. A helicopter flew above, and hovered in the air above the team. A man in the helicopter identical to the men on the ground lowered the rope ladder from the aircraft to the team down below. Almost effortlessly, the men climbed up the rope ladder, and flew of into the night.

Max Dillonhall stopped at the end of the mountains slope, overlooking the valley below in astonishment. He was tired, sweaty, grimy, moody, and a little pimply. Basically a average thirteen year old boy. He had hair red as embers cast of from a fire, a shirt with AC/DC’s

Back in Black album cover on it. He wore thick rimmed glasses, broken so many times they had to be reinforced with hot glue. He was wearing slim skinny Levi jeans and black Converses. He didn’t care much about this family trip. He hated the journey up to the top, well, the highest point you could go with sustainable oxygen. He hated the fact it searing hot, and he hated all the bugs that were biting into his skin and leaving ugly marks. He was listening to music that was coming from his iPod shuffle that he has had since he was a baby. It was a cherished item, something he would bring everywhere with him. It was the one thing that kept him sane. The song Mr. Blue Sky was on, as he admired the beautiful scene of nature. He looked up at the sky, bewildered that the it could be so blue.

The Sun is Shining’ in sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight, the song sang.

Max had grown up in the big city, and had never gotten to see anything more than the concrete jungle that is New York. Max didn’t originally want to come to this place of nature, but like his parents said, he did love it. Max smiled at the thought of his parents always being right, as usual. They would rub it in his face every time he argued or fought with them on something.

“Max?” his mother called. Max spun around in the dirt to face his parents and his younger sister, Abby. HIs father was five foot, ten, and wearing jeans and a red and black plaid shirt. His mother was wearing jeans as well, was wearing a plain pink shirt. Both his parents were blond with brown eyes, as well as his sister. Oddly enough, Max wasn’t blond, nor had the family trademarked blue eyes. His red hair and sparkling blue eyes set him apart from his family. Everything he did and liked, his family did the opposite. Max liked baseball, his father liked football. His sister loved school, he didn’t. His mother didn’t like his female friend, which to clarify, on Max’s behalf, they are just good friends. Sometimes it felt like they were miles apart, and the only friend he had was his little music box.

“Yeah Mom?” Max responded.

“Don’t get to close to the edge,” she warned sternly. Max smiled, turned around, and walked to the very edge of were the ground was cut off by the air. He lifted his arms like he was Kate Winslet in the Titanic. His mom knew that Max was just clowning around. He was always a smart aleck. What she didn’t know was that Max was contemplating actually falling off the cliff. He only had two friends, he didn’t fit in right in his preppy school, and he didn’t have a real relationship with his family. He hated himself for being different. He lifted his left foot. His mom’s eyes grew wide. It dawned on her what he was about to do.

“Maxwell! NOOO!” his mom yelled. His got up and bolted towards Max. Max put his foot back on the stone and turned around. Tears streaked down his cheeks.

Oh Mister Blue Sky, please tell us why, You had to hide away for so long, Where did we go wrong?

Where did we go wrong? The thought pounded in his mother’s head. Max’s father embraced him, and Max buried his face in his father's arms. The wind whistled through the air. Max’s sister sat on the grass, completely startled and confused. The song changed. One, by Harry Nilsson. Max’s world went into a fury of darkness. Even in warm embrace of his father, he was alone.

One is the loneliest number that you could ever do

“Why Max?” His father asked. His father was tearing up. Max rose his head up and look at his father. Not a single word escaped from his mouth. Max peered over his father’s shoulder, and a man. The suicide soldier.

“Mom?” Max choked on his words. He pointed to the man. She turned, and knew that would be the last time she saw her son. The son she didn’t want, but learned to love. The man smiled a toothy grin. His chompers were yellow, and he was missing a few. He lifted a small silver stick with a red button on the top, like in comic books. His thumb came down onto the button, and everything slowed. (The trigger could only be activated within a 5 mile radius)

The mountain shook, and Max closed his eyes. The bombs went off, and the mountain sides crumbled. He fell with his father gripping to him. His mother and sister were engulfed in the flames from the explosion. Max’s head went light. His arms flailed.

“You asked for this,” he said to himself softly. His hair whipped in the wind, and they were growing faster as they fell. There were fires, fallen trees, animals dead and limp. When there downard fall to earth ended, his father saved his fall. Max heard his father’s neck snap.

“I-I love…” his father tried to say. Max didn’t hear it. His vision swelled, and he went out like a overblown light bulb.

It was night now. Rain and thunder roared from the heavens. There was a crack of lightning, and Max slowly opened his eyes.To his surprise, he was greeted by the decaying carcass of a deer lying next to him.

“GAAAH!” Max flipped of his father's body, but was overwhelmed with pain his leg. He screamed again, and tried to stand up. He was able to get his left leg grounded, but he collapsed back to ground.

“Mother Fu-” Thunder roared like a lion. He grimaced and held his leg. He lay there screaming and bellowing, his tears and the rain fell in sequence.They both continued to speed up rapidly. That was a problem for both sides. The rain soaked has he laid there, scared, and broken both physically and mentally. He lifted both arms away from his legs, and dug them into the mud in the direction of his father. He tried to pull himself over to his dad, but the pain that he felt in his leg was a road block. He pumped both arms and dragged, and hit his leg on a rock buried in the mud. Max’s mouth want wide, and he let out a guttural scream.

“GAAAAAAAAH!” It sounded like he screamed bloody murder. He breathed in and out very sharply, and let out a scream even louder. He was able to reach out and grasp his father’s shirt. He pumped his arms again, and pulled his leg over the rock, and laid himself on his father’s decaying chest. His buried his face into his father’s chest and sobbed.

“I’m SORRY!” he screamed, and sobbed. He blamed himself. No, he hated himself. He almost killed himself over something stupid. He left the image in his parents mind of him hating them for a small second. His sister, most likely traumatized because of it. Now, they did thinking that their son had never wanted to live with them again. It was an agonizing pain. Some may say even worse that the snapped leg he was crawling around with. The lightning flashed abruptly in the, and Max heard what he thought were footsteps. He looked up to see a man standing above him.

“Do you need help,” the man asked. He was tall, scruffy, a torn up leather jacket, and really muddy Skechers sneakers. He was caucasian, and he wore a thick black beard, and hair as dark as the midnight sky. Max was a little frightened by the giant man looming over him. His eyes were stone cold and icy.

“Answer me before I leave,” the man commanded. He wasn’t joking. The man stood there for seconds, waiting patiently. Max stared at the man, dumbfounded and in awe. He didn’t say a word. The only thing that escaped his mouth was a small, soft, breath. The man lifted his eyebrows.

“Well, okay then,” the man spun around, his longer, fluffy hair. He spun around kicking up dirt and started to off, with a book bag over his right shoulder, and a cooler in his left hand. Max snapped out of his trance.

“Wait,” he croaked. Max’s voice broke as he spoke. The man kept walking. No, NO! Max screamed in his mind. He reached out with his arm.

“Please. PLEASE!” Max yelled. The man stopped. Max dug his right hand into the mud, and pulled himself of his father, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, and flopped into mud. The man turned his head slightly to his side so he could just make out the boy. Max latched onto the man’s cargo pants. The man turned around fully.
“Fine then,” The man put his hand out, beckoning for the young teenagers hand. Max lifted his arm, and grasped the man’s hand. He lifted with all his might, and brought Max up onto his one leg. Max put his arm over the man’s shoulder that way he would have a stable foundation to walk upon. The man took his first step, and Max took a small hop.

“Y-y-y-you-you're not going to kidnap me and do horrible things to me r-right?” Max croaked quietly. The man stopped, and looked at Max.

“No, but why would you even ask me that?”

“I’m a city kid. Can’t be too careful,” he responded with a forced smile. “So, where are you taking muh,” Max slipped on the “me” when the blood from a cut over his eye dripped into his mouth. The man pointed to a wooded patch of the small clearing where Max crash landed his father.

“I was camping there with my brother. We have supplies, food, water, and a nice place to sleep and rest that leg of yours.” he confirmed. The man continued to walk, and Max hopped in synchronization with the man. Max turned and looked back at his father. He promised his fathers dead body at that moment that he would come back and bury him in the right place, and not let him be eaten by the wilderness around him. Max but the hand he wasn’t using to keep himself balanced, and realized it wasn’t there. His best friend wasn’t there. He was overwashed with adrenaline. He flipped of of the man and hopped back towards his father.

“Wait, Kid,” the man called. He turned to chase after him. MAx tripped on log and fell onto his father’s deceased lump. He ignored the searing pain that flashed up his shin, and patted down his father.

“Come on, COME ON!” Max yelled. The man caught up to him. He couldn’t find his music player on his father, and dug through out the mud around his dads body.

“What are you looking for?” the man asked. Max ignored him and kept digging. He didn’t know what he would’ve done without it. After a few seconds, he found it, and lifted it into his arms. He wiped off the the mud, and turned it on. The screen flashed on, and Max sighed with relief, and flipped his bangsout of the way of his vision. He gingerly placed the earphones in, and hit shuffle. To his surprise, the audio still worked, and Cat Stevens voice flooded through his body. His song, Father and Son played from the earbuds. He glanced down at his father.

Look At Me, I Am Old, But I Am Happy

His father had a soft smile on his face. He must have been happy that Max had survived. He must be havin’ a hell of a time, Max thought to himself. Max rose, seamlessly forgetting his leg, and collapsed right down into the mud and rain.

“A little help,” Max asked. The man once again picked him up, but this time threw him over his shoulder. Max was surprised, startled, and overall embarrassed.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Max questioned. The man was able to carry Max like it was nothing.

“”It is faster this way,” the man responded, his voice deep and calming. The man wasn’t lying. The pace did quicken by a lot, so the walk which would have taken ten minutes only took five. They entered the small wooded patch. Max’s anger was overturned by the beauty of this man’s camp. There were two large tents, and a fire pit. The guy was really roughing it. There were two logs that set next to the fire, parallel to each other. The man dumped Max onto one of them. He disappeared into one of the tents, and left Max in the darkness of the night. The rain started to slow to a drizzle. Max looked around, admiring the nature around him. His eyes caught onto a stick embedded in the dirt. On it were words engraved onto the front. They read

R.I.P

Jack Harrison

1972-2017

Beloved Father,

Older Brother,

And Friend.

Max realized it was a gravestone, for the man’s brother. Oddly, there was one next to it, with an almost identical wood. On it, it also had engraved words.

R.I.P

Max Cullinger

2004-2017

Had No One

Is No One

Max rubbed his eyes, and when he looked up again, the illusion was gone. The hallucinations did not stop there. His vision was a little funny, and when looked at the place were his “grave” had lied, formed three bodies. Two were of the adult size, and one was a small child. The tallest and biggest of the bunch was rotting like a fruit gone bad. The others were charred, almost like a well done piece of steak. They shambled toward him, menacingly.

“YOU!” the one with the rotting flesh screamed. “YOU DID THIS THIS!” Max knew these rotting illusions. His family, in there full blood and bone, shambling towards him, cursing him for what they thought he done.

“No, No No, NO,” Max shrieked with fear. He fell backwards of the log, and crawled back from were he came. The corpses were laughing at him, cursing at him, making him hurt.

I did do this. I killed my family. Max thought. I was different, I was the one ugly duckling, and I killed them. They never wanted me. They should of let me fall.

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered. He still had the music player in his pocket, and his heart.

It was still playing the musical noise. At the time, the song The Heart Of The Matter started to play. Max kept backing up as the shambling ghouls crept closer, cackling .

I’m learning to live without you, But I miss you sometimes.

He slammed his back against a tall tree, and a acorn fell from the tall leafed giant and hit him upon the head. The shadowing impressions of his “loved” ones were now in his face, breathing heavily. Max started to sob.
“Mom, Dad, Kendra,” Max spoke through the tears.

“Please, I’m sorry,” The ghouls swirled away into the wind. The rain started to let up.

My thoughts seemed to scatter, but I think it is about forgiveness

Max curled into a ball and cried. He layed there, sobbed, and thought of the good times. Playing baseball with his father, playing Dungeons and Dragons with his few friends. Laughing and smiling. The ides seemed so different now in this hellhole. The man emerged from his tent with two cans. Phil walked over to the boy and slide down next to him.

“You hungry?” the man asked. He offered the canned fruit. Max sat up and took the can.

“What's your name?” he asked again. Max shoveled the fruit into his mouth.

“Muhmhmn,” Max tried to say with a mouth full of food.

“What?” Max swallowed down the rest of the food.

“Max,” he responded.

“Max? Well, I’m Phil?” he said, finally revealing his long awaited name. Phil took notice to the boy’s ear phones.

“What are you listening to?” Phil asked again. Max looked up at Phil.

“Wow, you are just full of questions ain’t ya,” Max responded irritated and sarcastically. Phil was taken aback by the boy’s attitude.

“I just gave you food, and you decide to act like a a*s,” Phil responded with a hint of humor. They sat there in silence for a little bit. Birds chirped and animals hung around their camp, which broke the silence, thankfully, more than once.

“Fleetwood Mac,” Max said abruptly

“Hmh,” Phil responded

“The Chain, Fleetwood Mac,” Phil made a slight grin.

“That’s my Brother’s favorite song. Mine has always been and will always be Careless Whisper,”

“The chick song?” Max asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“Yes the chick song,” Phil said with a smile. Max played with the spoon he used to eat. For a small moment in time, Max forgot about his family’s untimely demise.
“You miss him,” Max spouted with a sincere seriousness. Phil looked over at the grave.

“Yeah, I do,” Phil said, with a small tear streaking down his beard.
“He was my younger brother. He was annoying, but he was my best friend. I basically raised him. My mother left us when he was only five, and I was eight. It took a pretty big toll on me. My brother wasn’t as much as I was when it came to the depression. My father had to take to jobs. A realtor, and a criminal. It was hard, and when we had the chance to leave with our aunt, we took it. We loved our father, but damn, we had to leave,” Phil’s eyes were distant and sad.”From there, our life went up. Things got better, we married beatiful women, had children, and I’ll never see them again,” Phil choked on the last part. Max reached up and patted him on the back.

“Here,” He offered him one of his earbuds. Phil took it, and let the sweet voice of Stevie Nicks calm him.

And if you won’t love me now, you will never love me again

“Thank you,” Phil whispered.

I can still hear you sayin, You would never break the Chain

They sat there silently, but not in a silence of sadness, but of a bond, forming stronger than bedrock.

Night was drawing to a close, and the sunrise started to form on the horizon. It’s orange glow spread throughout the land, and shoe through the tent that Max was sleeping in, and lit his ghastly form with light. He started to wake up. A long, gaping yawn was let out of his half awake body. His eyes were groggy and baggy. He crawled out of the tent, leaving his singing box of wonders behind. He emerged from the sent to look out into the horizon. To him, the sight looked like the forest beyond was on fire. Yes, burning like the fire like Phil had lit to keep them warm through the night, which was now diminished to a lonely speck of glowing ash. Animals fled from the horizon in his direction.Birds flew, and dissolved to ash, and a red man the size of the Empire State Building emerged from the fire He was completely naked, and a sharp tail jutted from just above his buttocks. He had horns, and a yellowed grin. Max was shaking and he was sweating profusely. He pointed at the boy, and the demon’s grin grew. He was holding a long chain connected to a lump of bodies. Among them, there was note. Max peered, trying to read it as the devil got closer, and flames behind him followed.

Reserved

Maxwell CUllinger

Family Killer

Grade A

A chill was sent through Max’s spine, even with the overbearing heat. He was alone. Phil was in the cluster, dead, along with his family, and a old man. Flames surrounded the camp. Trees and animals to ash. The demon knelt down in front of Max.

“Everyone you love will die. Everyone who tries to help you will suffer a painful life existence. YOU ARE NOT WANTED!”

Max knew he was right. Max, deep inside, hated himself for it, but he knew he was right. Then, demon bent down even farther, and clamped down on the boy, with his razor sharp, fiery teeth.

* * *

Max awoke with sweat piling onto his forehead. He sat up in the tent the man told him to seep him. His breathing was heavy, his breath was cold, and his hair was matted. He still felt the overwhelming heat, and the deepening sense of guilt. Sun filled his tent like cream in a pastry. He crawled out of his tent, and noticed Phil stoking a fire in the middle of the camp. Max let out a yawn, and limped over. His leg, according to the man, wasn’t broken, but he had twisted his ankle pretty badly, and he would feel a small amount of pain. Max sat down next to him, and Phil handed him a small pointed stick, like the ones you who’d use to roast marshmallows. Phil grabbed a package of hotdogs and tore it open. He took out one of the questionable meats, and jammed the stick through the hotdog, and put it over the fire. Max followed his example.

“So, Mr. Tarzan, is there coffee in this god forsaken place,” Max asked with a chuckle. Phil looked at him with a grumpiness so grumpy he could have been one of the seven dwarfs.

“No, there is piss and dirty water,” he said, his voice rugged and groggy. Max didn’t say a word. He couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. The smell of the cooking meat was a delight to Max’s nose.
“Seriously though, I’m parched,” Max said. Phil pointed over towards his tent.

“In there,” Max rose from the log, and handed his weenie. He stumbled over the log, and limped over towards the man’s tent. He peered inside, and saw a stack of water bottles. He stepped in, and hurriedly grabbed a water bottle, but the shining reflection of something there caught his attention. Max ignored it, but there was something about it that intrigued him. He turned around, and went back to roast his breakfast. A question had been stirred up inside of him since the man even offered to help him. So, when Max arrived to were Phil sat he let loose a flurry of questions.

“Here,” Max put a water bottle next to Phil, and cracked open his own.

“Thanks,” Pihl responded. Max sat down next to him, and unloaded.

“Tell me, how do I know I can trust you, and your not going to go Bill Cosby on me?” Phil looked at the boy, and removed something from his pocket. It was a locket, connected to a golden chain. He opened it, and revealed a picture of a small girl.

“This here is my daughter. I love her very much, and I want to stay alive to see her, as do you probably, want to stay alive to see one of your close relatives, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you,” Phil confirmed. Max could tell that the man wasn’t lying. Phil handed the boy his breakfast of delicious, and most likely intoxicating, hotdog. Max nibbled at it a bit.

“Well, that’s okay then. My family is dead, but I have an aunt in New Orleans,” Max said. Phil felt a tinge of sadness for the boy, and also bad for him, because of how he can tell someone that his family is gone in a joking matter.

“My real father is long gone, and my adoptive parents died in the avalanche with my adoptive sister,” Max continued. “I never really knew my real father, the only thing I have from him is this,” Max pulled his Mp3 player out from his pocket. “I guess he wanted something to give to me to show he cared even a little bit before he gave me away to the Hendersons. They’re my adoptive family. In never really fit in. I never even changed my last name from Cullinger to Henderson,” Phil’s eyes lit up. No, it can’t be…

“Jeez, well at least you have that aunt,” Phil said, half heartedly chuckling. Phil’s last name was oddly also Cullinger, but Phil didn’t want to lead the boy astray. Phil was deep in thought, staring at the flames dance and twirl.
“So, do you think anyone will come and rescue us,” Phil was so lost in his mind he didn’t hear what Max had said. Max waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes.

“Hell, Philly boy. Phil. PHIL!” Phil heard him on the last scream of his name, and looked at Max.

“Do you think we are going to be rescued,” Max asked again. The boy looked at the man with fear in his eyes.

“The battery powered radio I’ve got in my tent has had a lot of stories on the avalanche. They said they to clear out the rubble, so in two to three days, they should find us,” Phil hated lying, especially when the boy could. Max’s hopeful expression dropped to a frown.

“Okay, cool,” the boy lied back. Phil stood up abruptly.

“My brother and I were on a hunting trip, so we didn’t bring a lot of food,” Phil said to the boy.

“A’ight. Go get us some lunch then Rambo,” Max joked to the man. Phil walked back over to his tent, and left the boy sitting at the fire, listening to his music, and eating his hotdog breakfast. Phil kneeled down, and picked up his rifle, and loaded it with the bullets that came with the gun. He also grabbed a few on the go charging packs for the kid. He left tent, with the rifle in one arm, and the charger in the other.

“Here,” Phil tossed him the charger. Phil turned the opposite way from where they came from.

“Wait,” Max said. Phil kept walking slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m coming too. I know you have another gun. I saw the rifle when I was your tent, but there was something else wasn’t there. Black and shiny. A pistol, right?”

“Fine, grab it, and let’s go. It isn’t loaded, but don’t try to load it until I show you how?”

“YES!” Max yelled. He ujmped up with excitement, slightly hurting his ankle, and limped-ran to the tent. He re-emerged with a gun in his left hand, and two mags in the other. He ran up to Phil, and together they went out into in the woods. Max reached into his pocket, and turned on his Mp3 player, and jammed the earbuds into his ears. He swiped through his song selection, and choose Green Day. Good Riddance is the song that was selected.

It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right.

Max smiled. Being in the presence of this man gave him this feeling of finally having the one thing he had always wanted.

I hope you have the time of your life.

Phil smiled. He also felt that for once, he had something that he was missing.

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while

For Max, someone to trust

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right

For Phil, someone to teach

I hope you had the time of your life

A father figure.

A son.

A family.

“Stop Here,” Phil commanded, sticking his arm out on front of Max. Max walked right into him, dropping the unloaded pistol. The had been walking for some time now through the luscious forest. There were only a few fallen trees, and most of the dead animals carcasses had been eaten by the scavengers.

“S**t,” Max whispered. He bent down to pick up the gun.

“Hush,” Phil said, trying to keep max quiet. He pointed at the nature's beauty ten yards away. It was a beautiful elk. It was large and thick, it’s fur a deep brown. He beckoned for the gun that Max had been holding.

“Look,” He showed Max how to load the gun, and c**k it. “Now you always want to keep the gun pointing down range, that way you don’t shoot anything your not supposed to,” He lifted the gun, arms extended towards the elk. “You line up the target with the iron sights on the top of the gun, and you never bring your eye to the sights because of the kickback, you may puncture your eye,” Phil closed in eye, and focused on the sights with the other. “Then you put the finger on the trigger, and then boom,” Phil mimicked shooting the elk as it fed on the grass. “Now you try,” He handed Max the gun, and Max took it very cautiously, not wanting to set it off. Max stepped up to were Phil was standing, and Phil stepped back out of his way. He did what Phil had instructed him. He cocked, aimed down range, and focused on the sights. The music played softly into his ears. I’m Only Human is what was playing into his ears. Max slowly placed his finger around the trigger. He took a deep breath. He stood for a minute, but was unable to end the creature’s life.

“Are you going to do it,” Phil asked.

I’m Only Human After All,

“I don’t think I can,” Max responded to his words. Phil could tell that Max was scared and didn’t want to kill the beast. He was scared.

“It’s him or you. If you can’t you’ll starve, and never see the outside world,”

Don’t put your pain on me

Max took one more deep breath, and applied pressured to the gun. The iron giant and been flung from its chamber, into the elk. The smell of gunpowder fluttered through the air. The elk slowly fell, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Max stood there, the gun in the same position. He just watched the decaying animal’s life slowly leave it’s body. Phil watched the boy, to see what he would do next. A dark, shadowy figure moved through the bushes. Max’s attention moved from the dead animal, to the small animal the emerged from the bushes. It was a small elk. A baby. It walked over to the bigger elk, and sniffed it. It looked up at max, and stared like a deer in headlights. Max realized what he had done. He created another orphan like him. His hands started to shake. His whole body started to tremble. The gun flew out of his hand. Phil approached the gun, and picked up. He cocked and shot again, but this time at the baby, the bullet embedding in the elk’s skull. A tear streamed down Max’s cheek. I did it again. Killed, murdered again. Max stared at the baby's body, and Phil walked over, and grabbed the bigger animal’s back legs.

“Come over here, and grab the other legs. It Max a second till he moved. Together, the hefted the animal up and brought them back to their camp.

* * *

When they got back to the camp, the flames of the campfire had diminished to a lonely spark. The dragged the beast next to the fire. Phil took out a knife from his boot, and knelt down next to the elk.
“Hand me the fire starter,” Phil commanded. Max picked it up from were it sat on the log and tossed it to him. Phil started to the fire, and Max left to his tent, and sat there, letting what he had done finally get to him. To him, shooting anything living that doesn’t want to die is murder, especially taking away a child’s family. Killing a father, then killing the spawn of him. He did what his own father did to him. He teared up a little bit. He brought his knees into his chest. He looked down at his hands. They were red drawn, covered with the icor of the animal. Max fumbled with his music player, and shuffled his songs.

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel, Johnny Cash sang

I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.

Max’s small sob led to a bigger, stifled, cry for help. He wasn't okay. Then he noticed the shine. The shine of God. The gun that could play god. He brought it in there with him. He picked it up, and pout it to his temple.

What I have become, my sweetest friend

The cocked it.

Everyone I know, goes away in the end.

Max he sat there, crying. He sat there, inches away from the demon that invaded his dreams. Here was a small call of his name from Phil’s voice. The voice was drowned out by the loudnesses of Max’s despair. Phil called again. Max’s cry grew louder. Phil rose, and rushed over to what was going to become Max’s final resting place if Phil didn’t get there fast enough. Phil burst into the tent, and swiped the gun away from Max. Max looked at the man, and whispered with tears.

“We murdered a baby,”

Phil looked at the boy, but not with a smile.

“It was us or them, and I won’t let anyone stop me from seeing my family,” Phil said to the man. Or what's left of mine Max thought. Phil left to continue to roast the meat, and for an odd reason, left the gun in the tent with Max. If he can’t handle it, let him go. Phil thought to himself. His father said the same thing to him once. If you can’t take care of you child, I know a group of people connected from work, and the wife is infertile. There are some scientists trying to some way create them a child from a test tube through the father's sperm, and genetically fake egg, but they want a kid. You're not ready Phil.

Max looked at the gun. Us or them. Us, Max thought to himself. He realized if he is going to kill, he is going to kill right. As painlessly as possible. Max smirked. If I go insane, I want a good reason. He picked up the gun and let out a small laugh. His Hurt and pain seamlessly turned to him becoming a American Idiot.

Don't wanna be an American idiot

Don't want a nation under the new media

And can you hear the sound of hysteria?

The subliminal mind-f**k America

Max left the tent, hiding the gun, and slyly crept towards the woods.

“Hey,” Phil called. Max spun around, a little frightened. Phil caught the gun in the corner of his eye.

“Practice makes perfect,” Max spun back into the forest, and headed into the wooded sanctum.

* * *

Max lined himself up with a gigantic tree, with the diameter of a fat man when the McRib was re released.He had been shooting for some time, but didn’t have that many holes in the tree he was aiming at. There a few in the dirt and the surrounding trees. The music wasn’t really helping him focused, but it helped keep him calm. The Ramones calmed him more than a few pills from the asylum would for a lunatic.

They're forming in straight line, They're going through a tight wind

The kids are losing their minds, The blitzkrieg bop

Max cocked loaded, and almost a human being in the head. A man, that looked identical to the bombers that caused the avalanche emerged. Max did not know what the man was, or what he had done. His teeth were bloody, and his left hand was placed over a gaping wound, and his other hand, or, what used to be a hand, was hanging loosely at his side. It looked like a tree stump, with a long, white, bone sticking out of it. The man smiled at Max, and slide down along the tree. The man’s eyes were wild and crazy, like a rabid wolf.

“A survivor,” the man said, his voice, rugged and quiet. The man kept on smiling.

“Give me the gun,” the man said. He gestured for it. Max was scared and frightened. By the man.

“Why?” Max asked. Instead of turning around of running, he stood there, paralyzed with fright and curiosity. Max took two steps closer. He looks like the man with the button Max thought to himself. Max lowered himself to a small squat, and peered at the already dying man. He looks like the man that set off the explosion. Max was hit with a wave of realization. The avalanche was set off on purpose. This man killed hundreds of people.

“I can’t live with what I have done,” the man sayed with a giggle. He was mentally breaking.

“They told what I had been doing will change, help the cause, but no. NO! They want to take over and rule, and murder. The didn’t want to uprise and change America, the wanted to become powerful,” The man started to laugh cry. Max looked at him with a new found disgust. Max noticed the tattoo on his neck. There's more of them. Max rose, and looked at the man angrily. He placed the gun to his forehead.

“Suffer,” Max removed the gun, and shot the man in the already opened wound.

The man screamed. Max kicked dirt onto the man, turned, and walked away. The feeling of guilt for causing pain only hours ago dispersed. This new found feeling of strength through anger, and the savagery that follows was more appealing than being the nice guy. He was growing into something other than the smartass, geek that he was. Something stronger, hardened, and maybe even better. His current thoughts from suicide went to the basic law of the jungle. Kill or be killed. He walked back to camp. Phil had finished roasting the elk’s meat, and had already started to dig in. He looked at Max, who was dirty and bloody from the man’s now deceased body.

“What happened to you?” Phil asked biting into the meat. How he know what to eat and cut off was quiet a question to Max. He didn’t want to tell Phil about the man and the bomb. About the psycho man who said that a revolt was being caused in the states.

“A squirrel got in my line of fire,” Max thought of on the spot. Phil raised his eyebrows with shock. He tried to wipe it off with his hands.

“Damn, never say you doin’ that after the breakdown you had over a deer,” Phil joked.

“Anyway, if you wanna wash up, there is a lake about a quarter mile east,”

“Nah,” Max plumped himself down, and ripped off a part of the meat, and shoveled it down. He grabbed a water, and sucked it down like a vacuum. Phil looked at the boy. He realized how much the boy had changed over time.

“I hope you know that chewing is a thing,” Phil joked.

“Mglf,” Max tried to speak but his mouth was filled to the breaking point. Phil got up and went into his tent, and reemerged with a radio in hand. He sat down and flipped the on switch.

“The only station we get is the news,” A voice jaded and scratchy came out of the speakers. They couldn’t understand it when the, lady or man, started to speak.

* * *

This is CCN, bringing the latest and the realist of news. For all the survivors of the vicious terrorist attacks on our mountains and suburbs, everyone here at CCN wishes you peace and survival, and for those in the main city, unrest and unease grow higher as this group's troops swarm the city's borders. This group is a American made terrorist organization, fighting for an unknown change in our beloved country. Hundreds have been murdered and beheaded right on the city borders. America's first revolt is in action. These people, who are, as I’m told, call themselves the new Continental Army. There was a loud sash of a door and men stormed the news center. I’m sorry but you can’t be here. Blam! One of the men shot the newscaster. This is the Second Platoon of the Continental Army. The city is ours now, and if you don’t want stand with us leave, and never come back- xlxlxaxzxalc

The newscast went static.

* * *

Max and Phil stared at the radio. If this is real, there is no point in going back, Max thought. Phil stared blankly. Max clapped his hands together.

“Well?” Max asked Phil.

“Well, we are still going back,” Max looked at the man stunned.

“Wha-why? Everything sucks out there. It sucks worse than a freakin’ leech,”
“No. My family lives on the countryside next to mountains. The city is north, and my family is south,” Phil confirmed. Max still thought that the man was making an idiotic decision.

“Only problem is that the only exit not blocked off is north,” Max jumped up.

“See! This is stupid. I’d rather live in the forest than leave!”
“Than you stay,’ Phil responded. Max’s face formed into annoyance and anger.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ll live with alone with no survival skills,”

“ You shot a squirrel,” Phil said

“Shut up. You're being stupid Phil. I should call you Sloth,” Phil laughed at what Max said.

“The Goonies monster?”
“Yes, the Goonies monster,” Max confirmed.

“Jeez, you are such a nerd,” Phil joked. Max let out a sigh.

“Were is that lake at?” Max asked. He was exhausted and hot. He thought a swim would do him good. Phil pointed him east, and off he went. He walked past the tents, and went off towards the lake. Max took his iPod with him, and let Skip Haines guide him to the river.

And there ain't no road just like it

Anywhere I found

Running south on Lake Shore Drive heading into town

Just slippin' on by on LSD, Friday night trouble bound

Max sat on the bank of the river, staring at the water, his thoughts somewhere else. He still thought Phil wasn’t okay in the head, but he would go along if he had too. I would be nice to be back. Catch up on the episodes of Rick and Morty I’ve missed. See my friends, my aunt. He buried his head into his arms. But, I don’t want to be gutted by fake believers in the streets. Max was confused. He brought a shovel with him to the river bank. Across the bank was his father rotting body. Max stood and stared at the body. Max pictured his friends, Jeff and Madison. Together, in New York wondering were the hell he was. Together, without him. Max pictured Jeff, being picked on with Max there to stop the jerks in their paths. He pictured Madison’s blonde hair, freckles, and beautiful face. He missed his chance to be a brother to Jeff, and Madison’’s knight in shining armor. HIs only friend at this moment was Isaac Gracie, singing to him, his one and only Reverie.

Hey babe

I've been putting on my bravest face

Just looking for ways to replace you

And darling I'm just not okay

There was only one thing left for Max to do. He crossed the stream, and walked over to his father decaying corpse. His body rotted so badly, and entire arm was missing. He jammed the shovel into the dirt, and dug. He kept digging and digging. He was sweaty, hot, and dirty. The pile of dirt which he had been constructing had been growing past Max’s hip. Max walked over next to his father’s body, and rolled it into the hole in ground. He stared at his dad’s decaying face. The skull was poking out from under his eye. He still wore the smile he had in the moment he died. Max took the flower he had been carrying with him since he left the camp site. He tossed it onto the fading memory that his father was becoming. Started to reverse the process he had started. He stuck his shovel into the dirt pile, and started to throw it into the hole, and he didn’t take a break until the job was done. Max sat on his father's grave, and wiped the sweat that beaded on his forehead. Max stared out to the mountains and wonder what lay beyond. A collapsing government, a bustling city, or something rising from the ashes. He removed his glasses for a second, and wiped the dirt off the bridge of his nose, and when he put his glasses back on, a furry beast was sitting in front of him. Max was startled and fell backwards.

“Jesus,” Max yelled. When he got back up he saw what the hairball was. A dog. A German Shepherd, with a human's arm in his mouth. Max stared at the dog confused. The Shepherd walked over, and dropped the arm in front of Max. He thought about his father’s missing arm.

“Is that my Dad’s arm?” The dog barked, and panted. Max pet the dog. The dog didn’t have tags, or a collar. Max scratch the dog behind it’s ear. The dog rolled over onto his back, begging for Max to scratch his belly. Max laughed.

“I’m gonna name you Gideon,” the dog stopped and stared at the boy.

“No, okay, how about Robin Zander,” The dog looked Max blankly.

“How ‘bout Pierce. Like Franklin Pierce from that old tv show. M.A.S.H,” Max said to the dog. The dog barked happily. Pierce came over and laid down next to were the boy sat. The dog was friendly for a stray. The dog put his head onto the boys the leg.
“Aww damn. Phil is going to have my head,” Max said to the dog. The jumped up and licked Max’s face. Max feel backwards again, and Pierce pounced on him. Max threw his hands up to protect his face. Max was hysterically laughing as the dog was licking his face.

“Jeez! Chill out!” Max laughed yelled. The dog backed away a little bit. Max stood up, and brought a stick with him. Max revved his arms back and released it into the air. It flew through the sky, cutting through the warm drowsy breeze.The dog turn and ran after it. Pierce was fast. He pumped his legs and ran so fast he could have broke through the sound barrier. He leaped into the air, and caught the stick in his jaws before the stick could even think about hitting the ground. Pierce ran straight back to Phineas. Phineas smiled.

“Good Boy,” Max congratulated. He reached for the stick and tried to pull it away from the dog. Piece bit down harder on the stick, and pulled.
“Pierce,” Max pulled, and the dog pulled harder. Max tugged and pulled, and even dragged the dog. Pierce just stayed place and pulled harder. Finally Pierce released out of boredom and Max feel back for a third time into the dirt. Max stared at the dog and laughed. The dog ran over. Max pet the dog.

“Oh Phil’s going to kill me,”

* * *

Max was lost. Pierce was lost, and chasing a squirrel. It had been sometime since Max had left the river bank and his father’s resting place, and he was now lost in the giant behemoth of a woodland. He had been chasing after Pierce who had decided that it was squirrel season went nuts after one of the little furry creatures.

“Pierce!” Max screamed. He swerved and avoided running into trees, and jumped over a small creek and a few fallen logs. Night time started to take to the sky as Max bolted after his new found friend. He was tired and sweaty, and chased the dog for about fifteen minutes before he slowed down. Pierce stopped as well, then tried running up the tree after the squirrel. The dog barked and barked, tail whipping back and forth.
“Pierce, it is just a squirrel, there are plenty of other squirrels in the world,” Max said to the dog. The dog kept barking. Max shook his head.

“Of course you can’t understand me because you’re a dog,” Max said to himself. He sat down in the dirt.

“And were f****n’ lost in the woods with nothing to survive with,” Pierce barked at Max.

“Sorry, language,” Max said to the dog. Pierce walked over with a limp and sat next to Max. Max pet the dog.

“At least you don’t have fleas,” The dog let out a low growl. Max moved himself over a little bit.

“Or maybe you do,” Max said to Pierce. Pierce snuggled up next to Max. Max pet the dog. He sat there, letting The Head and Heart calm him down.

Put your dreams away for now

I won't see you for some time

I am lost in my mind

Max glanced down at the dog. Pierce lay there, relaxed and calm, with no distress once so ever. Lucky him, Max thought.

“Were going to have to go back Pierce, and you can met Phil,” Max told the dog. He looked at Max. Max stood and brushed himself off. Pierce stay there. Max whistled.

“Come on Pierce,” Pierce still lay there. The red blotch on Pierce's paw caught Max’s attention. He bent down and examine the paw. There were two holes. Bite marks. Was it the squirrel? Max looked up at the tree that Pierce was trying to attack. The squirrel was peering down at them. His muzzle was soaked with red.

“This is gonna suck,” Max scooped up Pierce into his arms. Pierce was very startled and confused. Pierce weighed about as much as a ton. Max’s noodle arms had a hard time holding the dog, but he pushed himself through. He retraced his steps, at least what he could he remember of those steps. He waddled back towards the river bank. He walked for what he thought was hours, but in truth it was only about ten minutes, and he was more lost than he was before. He lowered Pierce back down to ground. He hopped out of his arms. Max flung himself to the ground. Pierce looked at him.

“I can’t carry you forever,” Max said to the dog. Pierce grunted and laid down next to Max’s lying body. Max breathed heavily, his heart racing. He was panicking. It was his anxiety. Ever since he was three, he had a fear if being left alone. Being lost. It was most likely traumatic since his father left him. Pierce glanced up at Max. He was wheezing now. His chest felt It was collapsing in on himself. Pierce snapped to attention. Max was freaking out. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, even though he could, and his heart was popping in and out of his chest like a jack in the box. Peirce thought that he could stop Max’s anxiety attack, and so decided to slobber all over Max’s face. This didn’t help, and instead may of made it worse. Max’s vision kind of cleared, but this feeling of dread was coursing through his body like an electrical current. He latched onto Pierce, and held the dog tight. It was safety mechanism. He needed something to hold onto. Pierce sat there, not barking or trying to do anything, and just decided to be there like no one else had before. Max’s nerves felt like they had been kicked up to two hundred percent capacity. There was this rumbling in Max’s stomach, and he spun his head the side and threw up. It wasn’t an easy going experience though. It was actually quiet painful as his innards exploded. Once he was done, Max’s nerves finally started to settle. He calmed down, and his breathing returned to a steady pace, but something still didn’t feel right. Max’s head felt lighter than usual, and his skin was cold. Not cold with goosebumps, but a cold that sent tingles through his body. His eyes flickered open and closed. Max hit the ground without any warning. Pierce looked at Max, and realized that his new best friend was in trouble, and so he barked like crazy, not because he was vicious, but instead because he was calling for help. Pierce felt fear, and Max felt nothing, and was instead sucked into a world of darkness.

The sun beat down on Max’s face like Apollo on Rocky in the first film. Max’s eyes slowly opened, and he rose. He was at the same location in which he had dropped at. Pierce was on the ground. At first Max had no recollection of what had happened, but it hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t imagine how worried Phil was. He looked at Pierce again, and at first glance it may have looked like he was sleeping, but Max decided to take a second look at the his furry buddy. He crept over, and he reached down and his index and middle finger to the dog's neck. Max felt Pierce’s pulse, and let out a sigh of relief. He stood up and looked around. He could tell were he was now. He was on the other side of the river in which he left. He decided he would take the chance of crossing the body of water than trying to navigate the forest. He nudge Pierce awake. Pierce shot up like a rocket. He let a long gaping yawn exactly like Max had. Pierce looked around sleepy eyed. Max took notice to the unbearable pain that Pierce must have been going through with the bite mark on his paw. Max raised the dog into his arms again. It seemed easier to him this time around. His muscles were growing now with the heavy work he had been putting into his survival. He stepped out of the forest and headed towards the river bank. He walked out into the open air that covered majority of the lan from the river bank over. The sun beat down heavily on Max. He stopped at the flowing stream. He peered in. The water was as clear as glass. The water didn’t go down deeply, but there were fish swimming around in giant clusters. A dark green frog hopped over Max’s foot and into the water. It hit the water with a loud splash. Max lowered pierce back to the ground, and Max himself sat. He removed his socks and shoes. He rolled up his pant legs and walked into the water. Pierce stayed behind, most likely because he hated water. The water was cool and refreshing. The water rose a little bit up Max’s knees. Fish swam by him like he wasn’t even there, and he even tried to catch a few. He waved Pierce over, and Pierce did in fact limp over, but did not step foot into the water. That did not matter to Max, because all he really wanted to do was just clean out his wound. He took his sock from the river bank and wet it with the water, and went on to clean out the dog’s injury. It stung for a bit, but Pierce took it like a champ. When Max was down, It looked good as new. Max wrung out the soaked sock, and put it back into his shoe. He picked them up and held them above his head. Started to cross the stream, which spanned a large thirty feet wide. Oddly, Max didn’t feel broken and alone. Heck, he forgot his musical box of magic which he left in his pocket. Luckily the water didn’t reach that high, or his only connection to his blood family would be toast. Max pushed himself through the water, and realized that he had forgot about pierce, who sat on the edge of the riverbank. He pushed himself to the other side, and put his shoes onto that bank, and then went back for his dog. He scooped the dog into his arms, and walked through the river again. It was a workout for Max, but he ignored the burning in his thighs. He put Pierce back onto the dry land, and pulled himself next to him. Max looked at Pierce with a happy type of anger. He grinned and shook his head.

“You cause so much trouble for me, and I have only had you for almost a day,” Max said to the dog. Max bellowed a laugh, and Pierce woofed at the boy happily. Max stood up, still chuckling a bit, and swiped his shoes. He kept his shoes off, and started to head back to were he had come from. Pierce followed eagerly. Max re-emerged into the familiar pattern of trees. It was like returning home after a long vacation.He skipped and hopped over fallen tree’s, cheered. After a few minutes, Max was at the camp again, and the tents were gone. As was Phil.

The first three lines that popped into Max’s mind cannot be said do too the audience’s age and maturity. Instead, here it is dumbed down.

“WHAT THE MOTHERDUCKING DONKEYHOLE!” Max screamed. Pierce jumped, surprised by the sudden outburst.

“WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO!” Pierce’s ears bent backwards, and he glanced up at Max, with fear in his eyes. Max ran out into the center of the campsite. There was nothing left. Not a single thing except the dirt, and a name carved into it. It read Philip Cullinger. Same last name, ax thought. He looked familiar to the pictures of him, Max thought. He left me again, Max said to himself. Max let out a guttural scream. This time, the songs of wonder that enchanted his imagination couldn’t calm him. The Broken Wings couldn’t lift him.

Take these broken wings

And learn to fly again

And learn to live so free

Max let a guttural scream. Pierce hung back, frightened. Max screamed, and yelled, and cried. But most importantly, he cried.

* * *

It was like Phil had hypersensitive hearing. At the time that Max released the anger in his body by tearing through his vocal cords, Phil snapped his head in the direction that he had left. He was fearful that something had happened to Max, and so he set out hunting for him. He did not leave him like Max had thought, but Phl had given up, at the same time that Max had arrived at the camp. Phil was in pain, knowing that there was some chance that he was alive, but he couldn’t waste time. Phil stopped abruptly. He put down the bag which he was able to pack everything, including his guilt. He stared back at the home he had been staying in for the last week. Four of those days with the kid that he had given away. When he met Max, he felt the same feeling that he did when he held his newborn in his arms. A connection. A bond. Love. Phil shook his head and buried it in his hands. He couldn’t leave without knowing, yet he couldn’t stay. He didn’t know what his mind wanted. He didn’t know what he wanted.

* * *

Max rolled onto his back to sob, and cry. He wasn’t crying because he had no one to help him survive, but instead for learning about Phil. His last name, is my last name, Max thought. He flipped his iPod screen on and swiped over to images. The first picture was of a young man, holding a newborn baby. The man’s face had the same rugged shape, the same dark eyes, and same dark hair. How did I not put it together. Max curled up in a ball once again. But didn’t cry. He just breathed heavily. His were bloodshot, red as an apple. I can’t just sit there and cry, Max told himself. Yet, he didn’t want to. He wanted to lie there, and cry. He wanted this painful journey of sorrow to end. But he understood he wasn’t coming back. He didn’t comeback the first time, and he wouldn’t again. The whole idea was absurd to Max, but in the end, he didn’t really care. He was gone though. He couldn’t stop feeling this painful sense of regret for letting his supposed birth parent slip through his fingers, and even if he wasn’t Max still would have probably been hurting. This man felt like a father, acted like father, and might have been his father. Max felt a connection, and now that connection was snapped. Severed like a cut weed. He had to try to work, to survive, but Phil gave up, so why shouldn’t he?

* * *

Phil gave up. He looked and looked for Max, but he was no were. He couldn’t risk wasting more time. The government had come threw and dispersed the revolt that was being caused within the city, and it was now safe to return. He was leaving Max to die, but to Phil, Max was already dead. He cared about the boy, but he didn’t want to die himself. He was running away from fatherhood once more, except this time with guilt, and anger. Anger embedded in himself, because of himself. He was running from responsibility. He had a family back home, but it wasn’t his children. The girl was his step daughter, not his birth child. Just incase the boy had returned, he left to things, protection, and emotional stability.

* * *

Max didn’t see the batteries and gun lying there the first time. They sat in the dirt, inviting him into their grasps. Max sat up and stared at them. Pierce slowly walked over hoping Max was okay, but he really wasn’t. His eyes burned with hatred.

“I don’t need your charity,” He crawled over to the gifts, and he reached down and took the gun into his hands. He raised it over his hands, and launched it into the woods, then the battery following, hitting the dirt right in front of the forest entrance. He stood, and looked at his dog angrily.

“I could have been back in time, if it wasn’t for YOU!” Max screamed. Pierce backed slowly, his tail curling in between his legs. Max’s hand shook and rattled, his teeth chattering like a voice box with a motor. His skin flushed into a deep reed, and his eyes sunk.

“I HAD HIM!” Max screamed again. Pierce backed away even farther. Pierce let out a little urine, a defense mechanism. His legs were like jelly. Max took notice to his dog’s fright, and that was what snapped him out of it. He calmed, and sat down. Pierce was still a little frightened, but took Max’s screaming as a pinch of salt. Max slowly removed his iPod from his pocket. It read low battery, but Max could care the less. He place the earbuds onto his ears, his hands still rattling. The duet of Queen, and David Bowie seeped into his ears, as he let silent tears.

It's the terror of knowing

What the world is about

Watching some good friends

Screaming 'Let me out'

Max glanced down at his dog. Pierce looked back at his dog who was lying next to him. His eyes sayed more to Max then any words had before. His eyes sparkled with confusion and pain. His deep chocolate eyes sparkled in the light. The pain was eminent in the dog's foreboding eyes. Max felt a twinge of hope pull slightly at his heart. It was a sharp painful tug, because in the back if his mind he knew. He knew that this, everything he tried to do wouldn’t pay off in the end. Max ignored this thought, and focused on the positive, something he know just learned. It was something knew. All his life it was negativity over positivity. He would always find the bad on people, not the good. He wasn’t a good person. He didn’t have many friends because he was very resentful towards most people, and now, because of this, he stared into the eyes of life he would willingly take. The positivity though, wasn’t all that strong. Pierce tore away from Max’s eyes, and licked at his wounded paw. The wound, Max thought. Pierce was in dreadful pain. Emotionally and physically. The gun flashed to Max’s mind. He knew he couldn’t help save the dog. The wound would become infected, and then Pierce would suffer. He would have to end the suffering himself. Then, end his own. He rose, and slowly paced towards were the gun laid in the woods. He lifted it from the leaves and grassy from the forest floor, and jogged back over to were Pierce lay. He raised the gun to Pierce's temple. His tears ran faster, his noses clogged with snot and sadness. His hand shook like a building in the San Francisco earthquake. Pierce turned his grad and looked gleefully at Max. max’s lips quivered, and he cocked the gun. The click of the gun was very ominous, at frightening. The world seemed to slow down around him. His finger wrapped around the trigger. The world shrunk, until it was just Max, Pierce, and the gun. The trigger slowly moved back. Max’s finger tightened. The boom of the gun sent Max’s skin into a flurry of goosebumps and chills. The bullet broke from its chamber, singing through the air a sweet song of death. It cut through the air like a jet plane, and smashed through the skull, and embedded itself in the brain. The gory redness of blood splashed out of it’s home, and splattered onto Max like paint onto a wall. Pierce’s head hit the ground with a nice thump. Max stood there, still, and quiet. His hand slowly shook, raising the gun to his head. His finger tightened. He couldn’t live with it, and he pulled the finger the same way. The bullet escaped the same way. He fell the same way, and the blood splattered the same way. His body hit the ground the same way, and five minutes passed before the rumbling started. A truck slowly moved, and broke through the trees. A rescue truck. Five men swarmed into the camo, and stood next to the boy’s body. Max died with a smile on his face, and music seeped from his pocket into the world of the living. Bob Dylan’s voice shot out, presence overwhelming.

Mama take this badge from me

I can't use it anymore

It's getting dark too dark to see

Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door, eh yeah

Max died with a grinning mouth of pearly whites spread across his face.