The Map (683 words)

The Map
by W. David MacKenzie


His cheeks burned as the frigid dawn wind clawed at the hood of his parka. His hands were icy and numb but still he trudged onward. His robotic steps brought him to the crest of the snow-covered hill and then over it into a protected valley where he didn't feel quite like an arctic explorer.

Not that exploring the arctic was beyond his capabilities—he prided himself in his back country and harsh weather skills—but these winter gales were a bitch!

The slope leveled out and he stopped to get his bearings. After flexing his fingers repeatedly to get the blood flowing again he reached into a zippered pocket in his parka. He wasn't exactly nimble-fingered yet, but he had regained enough dexterity to pull out the envelope and retrieve the folded document from inside. He reviewed the sheet of laminated paper, scanned the terrain, reviewed the paper again, turned to orient himself correctly and looked straight ahead. Yup, that's it, he mumbled to himself,and started toward the trees.

He moved slowly at first, but exuberance got the better of him and soon he was jogging through the calf-deep snow, wheezing great gusts of condensing breath.

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When the bellboy at the ski lodge handed him the envelope the night before he thought it was odd. No one knew he was vacationing in the remote resort. Inside was a laminated topographic map of the ski trails with grease pencil markings indicating a path into the wooded hills. A scrawled circle at the end of the trail enclosed what looked like a number one. A few lines of cryptic text were written in the boarders.

Two pines lean left, four cedars lean right
Your reward lies between in dawn's early light

What the f...? He turned the map over, nothing. He flipped it back and looked at it again. Was it a joke? A test? From whom? Then it clicked...the geocachers!”

A few months ago he joined a geocaching club. The members spent their weekends using GPS systems to play high-tech hide and seek. Someone would hide a “treasure chest” then post its GPS coordinates on a web site. Other members would note the coordinates and hunt for the prize. Someone in the club must have found out where he was staying and sent this low-tech treasure map as a test.

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The trees, two scraggly pines on the left and four snow-shrouded cedars on the right, towered above him as he gasped for breath in the bitter cold air. He turned this way and that, looking for his prize. Nothing. It must be under the snow. Picking a spot between the marker trees, he walked in an expanding spiral, dragging his feet and kicking at the snow until he hit something solid.

His ego swelled as he dropped to his knees, discarded the map, and brushed at the snow with his hands, eager to get his reward and start the trek back to the lodge. He pushed more and more snow out of the way until he realized what he was uncovering—a man—dressed in winter gear and frozen solid.

He jerked back reflexively, landing on his ass in the snow. His heart raced and he shook his head in denial. That's when he saw the man in arctic camouflage fifty feet away aiming a rifle at him. The sound and the slam to his chest were almost simultaneous.

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The man in arctic camouflage lowered the rifle and watched the man in the bright yellow parka sprawl backward into the snow. He walked over and stared down at him as his hot blood stained the snow then leaned down and picked up the map. He used his gloved finger to rub out the mark in the middle of the circle then took a grease pencil from his pocket and wrote a number two. He folded the map and slipped it into a new envelope then scribbled a name on the outside. He tucked it inside his camouflaged jumper and walked back toward the ski resort as snow began to fall.


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Story Copyright 2005 W. David MacKenzie
Photo Copyright 1998 Phil Schermeister
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