SAVING FALCON

Chapter Five

That evening I used the last of my savings for the bus fare. I paid for Zach too.

I kept covertly glancing at his inhaler, which he was gripping tightly in his left hand. I did NOT need another asthma fiasco today.

Zach was usually a little bit overly gracious. He expressed his thanks over everything from passing the eating utensils to him to sharing my notes, but he never said anything in appreciation for well- basically saving his life. Probably because I deserved it.

He was obviously irritated that I had gotten his hopes up only to bring them crashing down.

My dad was waiting to greet us at the bus station, wearing the same grim countenance that he had when I left that morning for school.

Usually we were allowed to work on school work in the main lodge, but today he forced us to study in the west side cottage, which was the most tiny and claustrophobic of them all. Zach didn't seem to mind but I still protested for a good while before giving in to my dad.

At least Zach knew I had tried.

We were halfway there when we heard retching noises coming from a port-a-potty that was posted in between all of the cabins in case somebody felt the sudden urge to um- defecate (take a dump) and couldn't wait to relieve themselves.

We rushed over and knocked on the door, a new tension rising.

"Are you okay!?" I shouted, my ear pressed against the thin ocean blue door.

"It's Harris," a feeble sounding voice replied weakly. Harris was an employee at Falcon.

Another gag sounded.

"He's sick," I said, stating the obvious.

I instructed Zach to stay by the port-a potty before racing off to find my dad.

After a very brief explanation (he got the point that his employee was vomiting all over his portable lavatory), he jogged back to where Zach and Harris were waiting.

"Open up already Har!", my father exhorted Harris anxiously. As wrong as it was, I wasn't too nervous for Harris, I was nervous for his absence at Wilderness Fest, which was in two days.

Eventually, the door creaked open. It looked like a disaster. First we had to assist Harris who was pale and green and was moaning like a zombie. He was almost too enervated to walk from ejecting all of the food he had eaten in the past 9 hours from throwing up, but he managed slowly, hanging onto my dad's big shoulder.

Me and Zach trailed behind, a little shaken up but overall in good shape.

Once we sent Harris on his way home with some nutrient pills and Pepto Bismol, my dad phoned the rest of the team and explained the incident.

They decided to wait until morning to clean up the barf that coated the entire latrine. I was personally opposed to that idea because I was pretty certain it would solidify over night making the entire experience a little more.... nauseating than it had to be, but nobody asked for my advice so I kept my mouth shut.

After I escorted Zachary to the bus station, I sat in my bed and prayed for the first time in a long time.

Please let Wilderness Fest fund Falcon. My dad needs this place, it's his home and I don't want to see it replaced by some factory or warehouse.

And with that, I sunk into a deep and peaceful slumber.