The Economics of Survival

I was completely abandoned, lost in the wilderness, without any recourse, soon to starve. Well, maybe not that dramatic, but I was certainly abandoned and lost. If truth were told, and since I’m fairly honest it will be, I was lost in more ways than one, but it was my physical predicament that concerned me most. One minute I’d been lugging along behind my classmates, wishing I were near the front of the line where I could watch Ellen Sanderson’s pretty ass swing along in front of me, and the next minute something hard unexpectedly connected with the side of my head sending me sliding sideways down a muddy incline. I remember looking up at the sky and thinking I couldn’t be that badly hurt or I wouldn’t be conscious. I’d tried to roll over only to be blinded by a horribly stabbing pain in my forehead. Things got fuzzy, and it was a while before that gremlin with the sword quit poking it in my ears and wherever else he could and settled down to an almost pleasant and certainly gentler pounding.


Shortly after that, I managed to sit up and take stock of the situation. Gently probing my scalp with my fingers I discovered a plethora of blood and a gash in the tender skin that was about two inches long. It started oozing immediately and I, slightly panicked, tore off part of my shirt and wrapped it tight around my head. Praise God and Nurse Matthews, who’d taught me a lot about first aid during my middle school years, that I knew what I was doing and was able to staunch the flow. I still hadn’t realized the enormity of the problem until I glanced at my watch. The time stunned me, and I inadvertently shook my head, which started the gremlin up again. It was awhile before he subsided and I was able to really grasp my situation.


There I was, injured, in the middle of a national wilderness area separated from my group, without the slightest idea of where the main road was, or how far I would have to walk, or even in what direction. Did I mention night was rapidly approaching? According to my watch I’d been missing for approximately two and a half hours. Seeing as how this discovery was more likely to spark a celebration than a search party amongst my peers, I decided I’d better get off my ass and start figuring things out. I managed it, just, though my legs responded like Jell-O, and my stomach did the most incredible flips. Selecting a likely looking tree, I hugged it like the girlfriend I’d never had and waited until my legs stopped shaking and I lost the urge to toss my breakfast.


After my discomfort had subsided somewhat, I tried taking a couple of tentative steps. How I managed to stay on my feet is still something of a mystery to me, but I did it. I examined my surroundings slowly, trying not to jar my head. My eyes lit on my backpack lying on the ground not far away, and I felt a huge sense of relief sweep over me. Praise God and Mr. Scott, our science teacher, who’d insisted we bring a fully stocked backpack that I had food, water, and all my little toys that I couldn’t leave home without. I staggered over to it and squatted not wanting to bend over in the fear I wouldn’t be standing back up. With trembling hands, I rummaged through the contents drawing out a bottle of water from which I snagged a taste. When that stayed down, I cautiously swallowed a bit more. Setting the bottle aside for a moment, I continued my search, turning up a couple of granola bars and a bag of thoroughly mashed chips. Down at the bottom, my hand closed on the item I was seeking.


I drew out my brand new GPS and started it up. I had dutifully programmed the campsite in and so it should’ve been no problem getting there. When the map appeared, I heaved a sigh. Shoving everything else back in the pack, I straightened and struck out unsteadily, optimistically thinking I’d be there by dinnertime. The terrain was fairly rocky and though the trees were thinly spaced the incline behind me and the slope in front of me prevented me from seeing much. I’d apparently fallen into a sort of gorge that stretched out to the north and south. The ground pitched up in front of me seemingly gently, but on reaching it, I discovered otherwise. The ground was bone-jarringly uneven and the angle changed from easy, to people without concussions only, fairly quickly. Ten minutes of walking had me gasping from exhaustion. I had to sit down and rest.


While I rested I drank a little water and contemplated the granola bar, but my stomach protested so strenuously that I put it away. I rummaged around, pulled out my digital camera and took my picture, several in fact, trying to get a good look at the wound. It was impossible, I couldn’t seem to coordinate the camera and hold up the shirt bandage. Besides, there was so much matted hair and blood I almost threw up on myself and I wished fervently I hadn’t tried it. I looked awful, which isn’t saying much because I never looked good. I am and always have been terminally ugly. Add to that the geek-a-zoid factor and the, I’ll pee down my leg if you yell at me, sensitivity and it’s no wonder my peers react the way they do. At the moment, my appearance and my progress had me terribly depressed and I looked at the rock next to me, wondering if I should just bash my head on it and be done with the whole mess. It was only a fleeting thought, but it scared me and I hauled my butt up and started walking again, talking to myself encouragingly. I had become my best and only friend since no one else was interested in the job. I found myself to be sympathetic and supportive, not to mention a great conversationalist, and this time was no exception.


“Nathan,” I said, “you’re in a terrible mess this time and you may not survive. If not, it’s been nice knowing you. But let’s just keep putting one foot in front of the other and maybe we’ll make it. You never know, you may be scheduled for a miracle today.” I really hoped so, anyway. A few months ago I’d gone to church and got religion. The whole point was to get friends, which of course didn’t happen. I liked the minister though, who had interesting ideas. I wasn’t sure I bought all of it, but it was comforting to think that some guy was looking down on me and watching out for me. I tried not to question it too much. After all, there was no harm in it, and if it was just fantasy, well I could handle that. Reality sucked, for me anyway, especially at the moment.


I kept climbing, well staggering, huffing like a ninety year old with emphysema. After another ten minutes, I cleared the top of the rise and stood gaping at the sight. I was higher up than I realized. Below a very steep drop, the land spread out green and grassy. On the far side of the meadow, I could barely make out what looked to be tents. I felt like cheering, but I rifled my bag, pulled out my binoculars with range finder, and checked the distance. It was my group all right, and they seemed to be settling down for the night. As near as I could tell no one was frantically searching for me. Maybe they hadn’t noticed, or I thought cynically, maybe they just didn’t care. The distance was beyond the range finder’s capacity and I sat gingerly, completely disappointed. That meant it was further than seven hundred yards. I fought the urge to give way to my sensitive side, which was in a major panic, and burst into wussy little boy tears. “Stop it Nathan,” I told myself sharply. “What you need to do is reconnoiter.” I sighed, knowing I was right, and tried to drum up some enthusiasm. It was difficult, I hadn’t wanted to come on the senior trip, but the principal had insisted.


“You’re a senior,” she’d explained, “and all seniors attend, whether they’re well liked or not.” Believe me, it’s hard to argue with that philosophy. At least I had the satisfaction of letting her know it had gone badly for me. Maybe there was even a lawsuit possible, I thought brightening considerably.


After a few moments, I stood and eased along the edge, wobbling just a bit. We’d been walking north when I had gotten hit, but how far to the north the group had gone before turning and climbing down into the valley was hard to say. I really couldn’t see very far ahead. A thin line of trees stretched before me hiding the rest of the ridge. I struggled along until I reached the nearest one and set my back against it, taking a little break and swallowing a bit more water. As soon as I was breathing easier, I ducked under the lower branches and took a good look. To my delight, there was a slope of dirt and loose rocks that culminated in a wide path cut through the cliff that meandered down to the valley floor. Tentatively, I started down the slope sliding a bit but managing to stay upright. Halfway down I stopped for a much needed breather. Twisting around to get the water bottle, I teetered a moment and took a step to get my balance. What a mistake! My foot landed on a loose piece of shale that shot out from under me. I fell flat on my back dislodging a huge amount of dirt and rocketed down the slope like a missile. I landed at the bottom in a pile of pebbles and a cloud of dust. Surprisingly, the ride wasn’t that bad, it was the sneezing and coughing inspired by the dust cloud that nearly killed me. By the time I had control of myself, I could barely focus or think straight.


Sometime during the event I’d dropped the GPS, so I felt around blindly trying to locate it. Luckily, it wasn’t completely buried and after a moment, my hand closed on it. Brushing it off, I tried to read it and prayed loudly and vehemently that it wasn’t broken. “Calm down Nathan,” I consoled myself. “Even if it doesn’t work, you can follow the path. It’ll eventually lead somewhere.” Realizing the truth of this I settled down and took some deep breaths. Eventually, probably because of the extra oxygen, my vision cleared and I was able to discern that the thing seemed to be working properly. With a fervent thank God and Roger Short, the bully who’d picked on me in second grade and not only taught me to keep my head in a crisis, but also how to run really fast, I weaved off down the path like a drunk. I was, at the moment, deliriously happy actually thinking I might survive, which is when things always get worse.


The path led down into the valley and then swung sharply north. The GPS insisted I continue in a more westerly direction. This necessitated leaving the path and navigating through a river of nose high grass and shrubs, some thorny. I tried the binoculars again and found I could see very little for the grass. Sitting down in the road, I considered my options. Surely this was the route taken by the rest of my class, so the road must turn back to the west somewhere. The question was how long before it did. Certainly a straight shot would be shorter and the GPS could guide me. I knew I needed medical help. Wouldn’t it be better to cross the meadow? The sun was already low and I shuddered at being out by myself in the wilderness. How bad could it be, I finally decided, I have the GPS and it will be shorter. Having made this momentous decision, I heaved myself to my feet and struck out across the meadow.


Half an hour of pushing through grass and frequently consulting the GPS brought me to a sort of clearing made by red ants. They were busy in a lazy way running up and down their trails. I paused to rest and drink some water, careful to stay out of their way and not disturb them too much. While I drank, I got a chance to get a good look at my surroundings. It was then I noticed all the bugs. Huge fat spiders parked in the centers of numerous webs while the clicking and whirring of insects assaulted my ears. Not that I have a thing about bugs, but it’s my experience that where there are bugs, there are snakes. I absolutely have a thing about snakes, from the smallest and most harmless to the meanest, nastiest, most poisonous granddaddy of ‘em all. Even thinking about them gives me the jitters. Seeing one sends me into orbit. The vision of a giant ugly rattlesnake striking at me suddenly from out of the wall of grass rose in my damaged head to torment me. “Nathan,” I scolded myself, “just put that out of your mind. You’ve got no choice but to keep going; it would take too long to go back to the path.” Shuddering, I agreed with myself and lurched forward before I had a chance to convince myself otherwise. “No snakes, no snakes,” I repeated under my breath over and over.


I crashed on unsteadily, berating myself for being so stupid, between praying for all critters to remain as far from me as possible. In an effort to achieve just that, I rattled around making as much noise as I could, thinking to scare anything in the vicinity away. Unfortunately, my imagination being what it is, I soon came upon the idea that those critters likely to consider me dinner would have an easy time finding me. At that point, I shut my mouth and tried to walk quietly, which wasn’t very. I was so confused and upset, I didn’t know what to do and I was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Feverishly, I searched my brain for something to distract me. I remembered an episode of Star Trek, yes I’m a fan, where one of the characters tried to keep himself under control by repeating mathematical equations. I tried this, but I was never good at math and found I couldn’t tell if the answers I was getting were correct. I thought briefly of my English paper, but it had been about Pride and Prejudice and who cared. So, I concentrated on my Economics project. I hadn’t really thought about it yet, it wasn’t due for another month. I was to come up with a product of some kind and develop a marketing strategy. Luckily, Miss Reynolds wasn’t expecting us to actually produce the object, or sell it.


I‘d come up with one or two halfway decent ideas when I noticed the smell. It was one of those sweetly, ripe sort of smells that really turns your stomach while scaring the snot out of you. The grass thinned out and the smell got stronger. Soon I was standing on a flat, bare, stretch of ground that reeked. I paused, and glanced around worriedly. I couldn’t see anything that should have stunk like that, but I found it hard to believe that the ground itself could smell so bad. I did see that the dirt seemed to change color. Another step or two and I realized what I was seeing. The ground was becoming progressively wetter. I had entered a kind of bog. Consulting the GPS, I closed my eyes in resignation. There was nothing to do except press on. Moaning a little, I tentatively stepped out, feeling the ground squish beneath my boots. With every step I sank a bit further, while the smell made my eyes water. The litany of no snakes changed to no quicksand. I didn’t fall, but you’d have thought I had. Mud seemed to jump off the ground and stick to me. It was thick and slimy, and completely destroyed any desire I might have had to chew on my granola bar. I quit thinking about my project and started thinking about a nice bath and a clean hospital room.


Just when I knew I couldn’t take anymore I spotted a line of thorny bushes growing next to a large rock jutting out of the ground. I made for the rock, sinking to my knees with every step. By the time I reached it, I was exhausted and I heaved up onto it for a much needed rest. I drank my water and consulted the GPS. I was close, I gleefully discovered, and immediately felt rejuvenated. The sun had sunk pretty low by this time and the sky was taking on some orange and pink. It was really quite nice, I decided, sure now I would indeed live to tell the tale. Finishing the last of the water, I got up and skidded across the rock to the ground, which was solid on this side. Delighted to have put the bog behind me, I moved forward almost normally, stumbling only once or twice. Even my head didn’t throb quite so bad.


The sky grew even more colorful, and I was watching it when I rounded a bush and heard a furtive sound just ahead. I halted, the idea of huge predators rushing back to haunt me. Slowly, I eased along using the bushes for cover. It was as I was poking my head out from one particularly thorny specimen, that I saw what had made the noise. Shock and unmitigated joy rushed through me. I forgot about my head, the horrible bog, all of it. There, not ten feet in front of me, was Ellen Sanderson’s bare lily-white butt. She was peeing away, oblivious of my perusal.


I started to shake. It was perfect, round and firm, peerless, and with the sun setting right behind it, too. Nothing I’d seen before or since could equal it. I slipped out my digital camera and snapped pictures like a man possessed. Art, that’s what it was. The kind that brought tears to your eyes and left you profoundly changed. She finished and stood up, yanking up her jeans. I heard the sound of her zipper and watched as she trotted off. Lying back in the bush, I took a full five minutes to recover, carefully putting my precious camera back into my pack with almost religious reverence.


Finally, I lumbered up and headed in the same direction Ellen had gone. Within seconds I stumbled into camp, right in front of Mrs. Wright, the assistant principal. She took one look at me and shrieked for help. Immediately all the sponsors converged on me. I was taken to a cot, my head bandaged properly, and my parents notified. After that, they transferred me to an SUV and left me momentarily, while they got ready to truck me into town to the local hospital. I lay in the seat and clutched my backpack protectively, listening to the stunned reactions of my classmates and snatches of conversation. Kurt’s voice, Ellen’s on and off boyfriend, caught my attention.


“I’m telling you,” he said earnestly, “I hit him hard enough to take out a cow.”


“Well,” Ellen snapped, “it wasn’t hard enough, was it. At least he’ll be in a hospital bed and I won’t have to worry about him staring at my butt for the rest of the trip.”


I glanced down at my bag as my face turned red and rage suffused me. Then I patted it gently and smiled. Revenge is supposed to be the Lord’s, but perhaps I’d gotten my miracle and He was using me as an instrument of justice. I hoped so, because I had a plan.




Three weeks later, I explained my marketing strategy for a screen saver to my economics class. The screen saver I showed them was not the one I had made and marketed over the internet, but they didn’t need to know that. I wasn’t worried about my grade, I didn’t need a scholarship, and college was already paid for. In fact, if sales continued like they had been, I’d be set for life. Apparently, most red-blooded American men had the same idea about art as I did. What a revelation! Nature Calling, the name of my screen saver, was making a tremendous profit. Praise God and Ellen Sanderson, amen.