Chapter 1 Day -0.5 

In the serene countryside of Southeastern Pennsylvania, Cyborg Baselmonk, a nine-year-old boy with a heart full of dreams, lived a life rich with the simple joys of childhood. Along with his younger brothers, Galen and Major, Cyborg’s days were filled with adventure: exploring the vastness of their yard, driving around the church parking lot on his hovercraft just across the dirt road from his house, making hidden clubhouses in the neighboring cornfields, and playing in the little creek about a mile down the dirt road beside their house.  

As this particular day began, young Cyborg Baselmonk felt a surge of excitement as he dialed Dax’s number early in the morning. He eagerly invited him over for a ride on the hovercraft, one of the most popular playthings for the neighborhood kids ever since Cyborg got it for Christmas two years prior. Hours ticked by slowly as he awaited Dax’s arrival, his anticipation growing with each passing minute. 

Dax, who was 12, had the kind of life that caused Cyborg to look up to him. He lived in a much larger, more modern house that seemed to brim with endless adventure and freedom. Whenever Cyborg visited, he was immersed in a world filled with things that he was not allowed to enjoy at home. Dax owned a pump action BB gun, an object of fascination for Cyborg, whose parents would not allow such a dangerous projectile launcher in his hands, especially with two younger brothers in the house. Then, they would spend hours watching cartoons or playing video games, a luxury Cyborg seldom indulged in at home. And finally, there were the treats; Dax’s mom had a well-stocked pantry full of all sorts of candy and snacks, which were not even allowed in the front door of his home. 

Perhaps most exciting of all, Dax was even allowed to go hunting – an activity that seemed both daring and grown-up to Cyborg. In contrast, the one thing Cyborg could offer in return was his hovercraft. Though it was common in their time, in the eyes of his friends, especially Dax, it was a pretty cool way to spend half a day. 

When Dax finally appeared, he wasn’t alone; accompanying him was Tim, a newcomer he had never met before, new to the neighborhood’s adventures. Cyborg’s heart warmed to the idea of making a new friend, and with a spirit of camaraderie, the trio headed to the garage, eager for a joyride in the hovercraft.

This hovercraft, a one-seater gem that had captured the imagination of the local kids, was just the right size for a child up to 120 lbs. Over the past two years, it had become more than just a toy; it was a vessel of countless escapades, bearing the marks of its well-loved status. Today, however, it would not start. 

Following a series of troubleshooting techniques by the kids, resembling more like 3 monkeys playing with a steel football rather than a genuinely engineered approach, revealed the heart of the issue: the Lithium/Helvetium battery, which everyone knows practically lasts forever, was unexpectedly dead. This was a puzzling turn of events, given the previous owner’s assurance of its 20-year usage in an expected range of 50 years.

Sensing Dax and Tim’s growing disappointment and fearing their swift departure for other pursuits, Cyborg quickly mustered an alternative plan. “How about we head down to the creek? We could build a dam and hunt for salamanders and maybe even crawfish! And who knows, if our dam is big enough, we might end up with our own swimming hole!” 

His proposal, tinged with a blend of enthusiasm and hope, was met with hesitant agreement from Dax and Tim.

And so, the three friends set off, their journey taking them down the familiar dirt road, over the gentle rise of the hill, and towards the creek nestled at the edge of the sprawling cornfield. It was a change of plan, but as they walked, the promise of a different kind of adventure began to spark their interest.

The Creek

With the sound of relaxing gurgling waters, the smell of wild mint plants nearby, and salamander treasures hidden underneath the smooth rocks, the creek consistently transformed into an enchanting playground for the boys whenever they decided to go down there. Together, they embarked on constructing a dam aimed at getting the water deep enough to swim in, each acting like they were experts in structural engineering. 

As they immersed themselves in this playful project, Cyborg began to notice a subtle but distinct change in the air. He couldn’t help but observe how Dax and Tim sometimes huddled together without him; they were whispering to each other, and their glances towards him gave him the feeling that they were either talking about him or they didn’t want him to know something. 

Cyborg asked without restraint, “Hey guys, what are you talking about?” The newcomer, Tim, quickly replied, “It’s big boy stuff; you are too little to understand.” 

“Oh come on, pleeeasse, tell me what you are talking about.” Cyborg begged.  

This time, Dax said, “Hey buddy, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” And at that, Cyborg automatically trusted his old friend and was able to let it go. However, this unfamiliar and slightly unsettling new dynamic stirred a blend of curiosity and apprehension within Cyborg.

As the hours ticked by, they were having fun playing in the creek, trying to build a dam that kept failing whenever the water got more than 2 feet deep. Yet, despite the fun and the engaging task at hand, an undercurrent of secrecy lingered persistently. It was an unspoken presence that continued to cast a faint shadow over the warmth of their camaraderie, leaving Cyborg to wonder about the whispers and glances that seemed to exclude him from some unspoken bond.

The Bull

Now, adjacent to the creek lay a bull pasture encircled by a formidable electric fence. In their past mischievous moments, Dax and Cyborg occasionally tossed corn husks at the bull, a futile attempt to provoke it. Yet, the bull always maintained a stoic indifference as if aware of the futility of challenging the electric barrier. Perhaps a past shock had taught it a lesson in restraint.

As the boys’ enthusiasm for their makeshift dam began to wane, Tim, in a suspicious tone, inquired about the purpose of the electric fence.

“Hmm, usually there’s a big bull in there,” Dax said, “but it seems he’s not around right now.”

Tim’s eyes then drifted back to the creek, and he seemed to trace its downstream route through the bull pasture to the woods beyond it. “Have you guys ever explored that area? Let’s go check it out and see how far this creek goes!” he exclaimed, pointing towards the mysterious treeline.

Cyborg quickly interjected, “No! I’m not allowed to go that far from home; I am only allowed to go to the creek, and I am definitely not going over there! Also, what if the bull shows up? How will we get back?”

Tim’s response was a mix of taunting and challenge. “Always playing it safe, huh? If you’re too scared, say you’re scared. You can just head home. Come on, Dax, let’s check it out.”

With a sense of daring adventure, Dax and Tim ducked under the electric fence and began their cautious trek across the pasture, eyes scanning for any sign of the absent bull.

Cyborg didn’t want to be left out, and he quickly told himself that he would just tell his mother the truth when he got back home. He predicted that he would likely get a warning from her instead of any real punishment. After all, he reasoned, he was with 2 older boys, one of whom was new to the neighborhood, and he was just being a good friend by going with him. Right?

Determined not to be outdone, Cyborg stooped slightly to pass under the electric fence – not that he needed to duck much – and sprinted after Dax and Tim, “Wait up, guys!”. His little legs pumped vigorously as he chased down the older boys, his breaths quick and shallow.

As Cyborg caught up with Dax and Tim, he couldn’t help but notice the abrupt end to their conversation. A tense silence enveloped them, thickening the air with unease as he drew closer. This sudden quietude and their earlier secretive exchanges reignited a familiar twinge of discomfort in Cyborg. 

“What were yous guys talking about?” Cyborg said, out of breath. 

Tim quickly replied, “Nothing much, little guy. You shouldn’t come with us if you can’t keep up.”

Cyborg replied defiantly, “I’m not that little; you just had a head start!”

Dax added, “Just try to keep up, buddy.” 

The three of them continued to move cautiously across the pasture. They were about halfway through when they neared what seemed like a watering hole shadowed by a giant oak tree. Suddenly, they spotted the bull, its massive form sprawled out behind the tree, seemingly in the throes of a peaceful nap.

Time seemed to slow down as they stood, frozen, each boy grappling with a mix of awe and fear. The serenity of the scene was abruptly shattered when the bull stirred. With a suddenness that sent a jolt through the boys, it rose to its feet, its eyes wide with surprise at the sight of the intruders.

In an instant, the bull’s demeanor shifted from surprise to anger. It snorted fiercely, kicking up clouds of dust, its massive horns lowering like a deadly weapon ready to strike. That was the cue for Tim, who darted towards the treeline without a second thought for anyone but himself. Dax and Cyborg, caught in the wave of panic, followed suit, their feet pounding the earth as they raced for safety.

Behind them, the bull charged, embodying raw fury and unstoppable force. The earth seemed to quake with each of its thunderous steps. The boys, driven by primal fear, sprinted with every ounce of their strength toward the safety of the woods. The sounds of the bull filled their ears as they ran, but they did not look back; they just kept running at full force.  

Tim and Dax made it under the electric fence first and watched as young Cyborg ran the remaining 20 feet or so he lagged behind. The bull was about 50 feet behind Cyborg and closing, but as soon as Cyborg was on the other side of the fence, the bull slowed down and stopped. He started pacing back and forth, staring at the boys, occasionally shaking his horns in their direction as if to say, these are for you if you come back in my territory. 

“Now, how are we going to get back!? Cyborg shouted worryingly. 

Dax said, “I know another way back; it just takes longer.” 

“I don’t want to go back yet. Come on, let’s go check out the woods.” Tim said. 

The palpable fear that had gripped the boys began to dissolve, slowly replaced by a burgeoning sense of adventure. Reluctantly, Cyborg followed the two elder boys into the woods. The woods were a world markedly different from the open, vulnerable pasture they had just narrowly escaped. The dense canopy overhead weaved a tapestry of dappled light and shadow, while the symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls added to the forest’s mystique.

As they ventured deeper, navigating through the thick underbrush and over moss-covered roots, Dax and Tim slowly got further and further ahead of Cyborg and resumed their hushed conversations, their voices a low murmur that blended with the sounds of the forest. Cyborg, trailing behind, felt a renewed sense of exclusion, the whispers igniting more suspicion in his mind.

The terrain grew more challenging as they progressed, the forest floor undulating with the land’s natural contours. Then, they entered a relatively clear area at the top of a hill that rolled downward and then up into another hill of the same altitude about 100-200 feet away. 

It was here, in this hidden clearing, that the suspect behavior of Dax and Tim reached a turning point. In an unexpected move, they took off running, all the while laughing insatiably as if to play a game with the young boy. 

Cyborg was caught off guard and stood frozen for a moment; then, his mind began racing with the thought that the bull might be on their heels again. In a reflex, he dashed after Dax and Tim, but they were much faster, disappearing from view in the blink of an eye. Panting, he slowed down, calling out, “Hey guys, wait up!” But his voice seemed to dissolve into the dense woods without an answer.

As he scanned his surroundings, Cyborg thought he spotted Dax and Tim peeking from behind a large rock in the distance. A realization dawned on him – this was just a prank. He chuckled to himself, shaking off the initial scare. “They’re just messing with me,” he mused, confident that his friends wouldn’t really leave him alone in the woods. After all, it was too dangerous; the thought of being truly abandoned by a friend like Dax seemed far-fetched to him.

But as his calls remained unanswered, a knot of unease began to form in his stomach. His musings faded, replaced by a growing sense of fear. The once playful echoes of the forest now seemed to mock his solitude. Cyborg’s confusion turned to anger, then back to fear as the harsh reality set in – he had been left behind, alone and disoriented in an unknown part of the forest. 

Cyborg felt a wave of panic wash over him. The forest, once an exciting playground, now loomed large and menacing. With a sinking heart, he realized he had no idea how to retrace his steps. His focus had been on his friends, following their lead without observing or thinking about his path. He also realized that the Sun would eventually go down, and surviving in the dark would be nearly impossible. Cougars and black bears have been seen many times, and a small boy would be a tasty treat for them if he was discovered alone and unprotected.  

For a moment, he considered walking in the direction Dax and Tim had disappeared, but something about it didn’t seem right. Doubt crept in, and he wondered if this was part of their prank – leading him further astray. His trust in them was now completely gone.

Determined to avoid being led astray by false leads or tricks, Cyborg made a decision. He had to rely on himself to find a way back. With each hesitant step, he tried to recall any landmarks or signs that could guide him, but the sameness of the forest offered no clues. The realization that he hadn’t paid attention to their route, simply following his friends without a second thought, weighed heavily on him. Now, in the encroaching darkness of the woods, Cyborg understood the gravity of his situation – it was up to him to find his way home, or he could die. 

In the thickening gloom of the woods, Cyborg racked his brain, sifting through nine years of life lessons in search of something, anything, that could guide him now. Two memories surfaced, distinct yet seemingly irrelevant in his current predicament.

The first was a time he had gotten separated from his mother in a grocery market. He had found his way to the front desk, and they had announced over the loudspeaker for his mom to come. It had worked then, a straightforward solution in a world far less complicated than the dense forest he now found himself in.

The second was a piece of advice he’d heard somewhere – that one could use the Sun and stars for navigation. He recalled images of cowboys in movies, always riding west into the sunset, indicating to him that the Sun always sets in the West. But as he looked up at the dimming sky, trying to find a hint of the Sun’s position, he realized that this knowledge, while useful in theory, didn’t quite translate into practical guidance for a lost boy in the woods. Furthermore, knowing where West was didn’t help if he didn’t know his house’s direction.

Both memories, while comforting, fell short of offering a real solution. Cyborg knew he couldn’t just wait for a loudspeaker announcement to save him here, and the idea of navigating by celestial bodies was dauntingly vague. He was on his own, and it was time to muster the courage to find his way back, guided by little more than his instincts and a deep desire not to die. 

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Cyborg summoned a well of determination from deep within. A mantra began to form in his mind, a simple yet powerful refrain that he repeated every few minutes like a lifeline: 

“Never give up, never quit.” 

This became his rhythm and focus as he navigated the increasingly challenging woods. He found a long solid stick that could be used for knocking down brush and possibly for protection in case of a bear or cougar attack. Then, with a last look around to see if his “friends” had returned for him, he focused on getting unlost. 

Cyborg knew his first task was to find the treeline as a reference point. Anxiously, he paused, trying to orient himself, and a crucial memory surfaced. He recalled the warm touch of the Sun on his back while they were building the dam at the creek. More importantly, he remembered that his back had been facing the dirt road leading to his house at that time.

This realization sparked a strategy in his mind. It made sense to head towards the direction where the Sun had been shining just an hour or so ago. That would likely lead him towards the dirt road, a familiar path back home. With this thought anchoring his decision, Cyborg chose his direction with a newfound sense of purpose.

As Cyborg plunged into his journey, he called out to God, “Please help me! I am scared and don’t know what to do. Protect me, oh God! Forgive me of my sins. Help!” This prayer continued on and off throughout his trek, toggled with his mantra.

The woods around him were alive with hidden perils; the underbrush teemed with ‘jiggers,’ thorny bushes that seemed to lash out at him, scraping his skin and snagging his clothes. Each thorn that pierced his skin, each snag on his jeans, was a stark reminder of his daunting task.

As he navigated through the thick underbrush, he kept his focus on this chosen path. The mantra “Never give up, never quit” continued to pulse through his mind, now coupled with the logical direction he had set for himself. Every step, despite the scratches and snags, felt more assured as he moved with the Sun’s remembered position guiding him, a beacon of hope in the dense woods.

At last, Cyborg’s perseverance paid off as he stumbled upon the treeline, his eyes greeting the sight of a cornfield just beyond. He reasoned it must be one of the fields adjacent to his house. However, a daunting barrier stood between him and the familiar sight – a dense, intimidating stretch of jiggers and thorns about 30 feet wide. Initially, he attempted to power through, but the thorns were far more relentless than anything he had encountered so far, forcing him to reconsider his approach.

Adapting to the challenge, Cyborg decided to follow the treeline, searching for a less obstructed path through the thorny barricade. With every step he took, fatigue began to gnaw at his muscles, each movement becoming a duel with his own weary body. Blisters, painful and unyielding, formed on his feet, mirroring the rough journey he had embarked upon.

As the Sun continued its descent, painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and gold, Cyborg could hardly appreciate the spectacle. His mind was fixated on one goal – escaping the enclosing woods before nightfall. The fear of being trapped in the dark, alone and lost, lent a desperate urgency to his movements.

Then, amidst the daunting undergrowth, he spotted it – a potential escape route. It was a relatively clearer area, still guarded by jiggers, but only about 5 feet thick. Seizing the opportunity, Cyborg braced himself and plunged through the thorns. The sharp jabs and scratches were intense, yet he pushed on, driven by the glimmer of hope that lay just beyond this final barrier.

As Cyborg broke through the treeline, he found himself on the cusp of a vast cornfield. His initial relief quickly faded as he realized the journey home was far from over. The towering corn stalks rose around him like sentinels, forming a labyrinth as challenging as the forest he had just navigated. His heart, heavy with fatigue, dipped further at the sight, but the innate drive to reach safety spurred him forward.

The journey through the cornfield was fraught with its own set of challenges. The leaves, with their sharp edges, whipped against his skin, adding new cuts to his collection of scratches. Underfoot, the earth was uneven and treacherous, demanding his utmost attention with every step he took. The remnants of the thorny jiggers, still clinging to his clothing, pricked him relentlessly, a constant reminder of the ordeal he was enduring. 

As daylight dwindled, the cornfield took on an ominous guise. The fading Sun cast long, haunting shadows between the rows, transforming the once-familiar terrain into a landscape shrouded in mystery and unease. The setting sun not only darkened the sky but also seemed to darken Cyborg’s spirits as he pushed through the maze-like field, each step heavy with exhaustion and a growing sense of isolation. As light decreased, fear increased in Cyborg’s young mind. 

With every ounce of strength he had left, Cyborg pushed through the endless rows of towering corn stalks. Then, without warning, his world opened up as he stumbled onto a dirt road. His heart raced with hope – could this be THE dirt road that led home? 

He quickly looked left and then right, his eyes scanning for something familiar. There, on the left, he saw it – the cow field that sprawled up the hill leading to his house. A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with an intense ache from his physical wounds.

Despite the excitement of recognition, the pain he endured was nearly overwhelming. Cyborg felt like he was about to collapse. His body was a canvas of cuts and bruises, a testament to the ordeal he had just endured. His clothes were torn and stained, bearing the marks of his treacherous journey. With another half mile to walk, the physical discomfort, however, paled in comparison to the emotional sting of betrayal and the lingering fear from what had just happened.