Josh double-checked the laces on his shiny new shoes, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed out into the night. Mr. Benton was waiting in his beat-up truck at the curb. The old man gave a terse greeting, waited for Josh to buckle up, and started out into the country.
Josh had turned 12 yesterday. Mr. Benton had called, and the next evening had been decided upon.
Mr. Benton owned hundreds of acres of woods about five miles outside Shelbyville. It was not a long drive, but the minutes dragged out beneath the heavy rumble of the truck.
Finally, they pulled down his long dirt drive and Mr. Benton shut off the vehicle. The sudden silence struck Josh, who heard the croak of frogs and the chirp of insects and other strange noises he didn’t recognize.
“Follow me, Joshua,” Mr. Benton said, getting out. Josh hurried to climb down, heave the door shut, and obey. Everyone knew Mr. Benton, and everyone liked Mr. Benton, but all the boys feared him, too. One did not disobey him, and one did not want to see him angry.
They walked across a field of knee-high grass to the dark edge of the forest. A path led into the deep shadows. “This is where I leave you. You only packed what was allowed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You will be alone. This walkie is for use in an emergency only. You call on it, you’re done. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Men are made in this forest, Joshua. You might still feel like a boy, but you can do this. Many others have. But it is not easy. Ready?”
Josh looked into the darkness and swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
Mr Benton nodded. “Go ahead, then.”
He could not stand there, frightened, with Mr. Benton watching him, so he started forward on weak legs. He did not like the dark. In town, it was never this dark.
Mr. Benton called to him as he entered beneath the trees. “You got new batteries in your flashlight?”
Josh turned and saw the old man still standing there, a dark form in the grass, like a figure in a horror movie. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. No use twisting an ankle if you can avoid it.”
Grateful, Josh unzipped his pack and got out his heavy metal flashlight. The yellow beam cut through the night. He could see where he was going now, but it didn’t alleviate the weight of darkness. The shadows seemed deeper beyond the light than before.
He had a compass in his bag, a few snacks, a bottle of water, spare socks, and a map of the forest, with elevation markings and sketched landmarks, with an X that marked his goal. He also had a pair of extra shoes, because it had been on the list. He didn’t like what that might mean.
He followed a narrow trail that might have been a deer path, hearing his own passage through the grass and leaves and wishing he’d been allowed to bring some music. There was always some strange rustle or a creak or whisper hovering over a deep silence that disconcerted him.
The path eventually ran along a wire fence where brambles grew. Josh stopped and checked his map. He thought he should head north, over the fence. It wobbled as he climbed and he lifted his legs carefully over the barb wire on top, one then the other, and pulled away from the thorns that grabbed his clothes on the other side.
He passed through a clearing where a car sat, abandoned. He swept his light over it, checking for movement through the empty windows, and hurried on.
He found no trail on the other side of the clearing. Somewhere he would cross a creek. That’s how he would know he was going the right way. So he ducked under the branches and pressed through the thick brush until he was under the canopy. He walked in a sea of ferns, trees scattered around him, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet. The land here was rising. He checked his compass and continued forward.
The moon was up and its light shown through the leaves, and Josh walked, breathing hard as he trudged up the incline, feet slipping on the wet leaves and mud. He stopped at the top and shut off the flashlight and waited, listening, watching. Eventually, he continued forward again, and soon the land began to slope downward toward a winding creek.
It was not a wide creek but it was too wide to jump across. Josh considered walking across, but the water was cold and a fallen log lay over it to the east, so he climbed onto it and crossed, hands extended to either side, the dark water flowing quietly beneath. Once across, he sat on the log and pulled out his water bottle.
Later, his light caught the remains of a deer stand high in a tree and he traveled for a time along a path that might have been an ATV trail. He saw the shadows of bats in the sky and once stopped, his light landing on a raccoon. They stared at each other until Josh flipped off the light. Eventually, the creature scurried away.
When Josh came upon the small grassy area, he knew he had arrived. A tent waited, and a small table. Josh grinned. He turned off the flashlight and stared at the sky, where the stars had multiplied. He slept deeply.
In the morning, he found that there was a tree at the edge of the clearing which branches held dozens of shoes, a memorial to all the boys who had journeyed here. Joshua tied his new shoes together. They were now covered in dirt and mud. He flung them up among all the others. Then, pulling on his old worn ones, he headed back down, everything transformed by the light of day.