“Uovia wavia”

…

“Uovia wavia susuma”

Hmm? Who’s that?

Ugh, water, mouth, eugh little headache, face in puddle of drool, have to pee, somones talking? Im alone though… good dream, more sleemm…

“Susuma woneke, drovivo”

Someone is in my camp. Talking to me in my camp, miles from anyone. Oh shit. gun? Guns here, good. Let's get up.

“Hmm, I'm up, i’m up.”

Sitting up i take stock of my immediate surroundings, Freya lying in the crux of the tent, blearily, i remember she's empty, and i left my ammo in my truck. My 45. Still on my hip, one in the chamber seven in the magazine. Knife? Left hip. Eww i slept with my boots on; I slept in all my clothes ugh. Looking up i see something that genuinely confuses me. Well, it's not that I'm confused that there's someone here, weird as it is; what's weird is what they’re wearing, which is to say, basically nothing. A loincloth going down to their calf, a large shell looking necklace, paint, or tattoos covering their skin, hair tied up in a knot with a bone holding it in place, and a friendly looking smile. I’d ironically probably be pretty disarmed by his smile if the guy didn't look just like one of the cannibals from pirates of the carribean, or the fact he's holding a spear twice his height. The spear is also unusual in that you'd picture the guy having some gnarled stone-tipped spear but it looks, honest to God, manufactured, like some medieval pikemen should be welding it instead.

I stare for a few seconds, but the man's smile never wavers.

“Susuma, quene gunes? Ovool?” the man says, smile falling in favor of a concerned look.

I must look like shit if this guy’s concerned.

Deciding this guy seems harmless enough for now judging by his relaxed stance and the fact he at least looks concerned for me, i sling Freya on my shoulder, open the tent, and run to an open area turning away from the man enough that i have the barest margins of privacy, but not so far as so i can't watch what the man is doing. Then undo my fly and release the floodgates.

If the man feels slighted by me ignoring him, he doesn't show it, he simply turns toward my tent to inspect more closely.

Looking around, something feels off. I mean aside the rando cannibal-looking man. It's not hard to place, the forest is wrong. The underbrush is much thicker than when I pulled up, the trees are wider, larger leaves, greener, the birds sound different. when you camp in the same area for years you know what sound the bird that wakes you up sounds like. this is like dozens of hawks screeching, it's not overly loud, but the quantity is odd; a flock of Hawks? Unlikely. My campsite seems to be just as clear as it was when I set it up, despite the new surroundings. Everything seems to be where it should be, hell the firepit still has soot blasted all around it, and glass bottles, broken and whole, are still sitting in my impromptu skeet range. There's a chill in the air as well, actual chill of late Fall. A chill in the air this high up in the mountains in the shade isn't that weird but it feels like it's supposed to be later, the ambiance of a different time of year. Christ, it smells different, pine replaced with another, still botanical scent, but not one I can place. Sweeter, like maple sap.

Finished relieving myself i saunter to my truck and slide a case from the back, i pull out two slug shells and four buckshot, and load my shotgun, slugs first, five shells in the tube, one in the pipe. I down a water bottle, splash my face, and start brushing my teeth. The movement and noise draw my passive guest over to me were he stands and waits a comfortable distance away and watches as I clean the crowns in my face. He looks almost like he shuts down, like a machine until I finish, spit, rinse and turn to face him. I casually place my right hand on the grip of my pistol.

I'm no murderer, im not planning on shooting the guy, i just want to prepare myself for all eventualities, y’know. You don't plan on getting in an accident, or getting cancer, but shit happens. I just want to make sure that if i can prevent someone from stabbing me with a 10 foot spear then im doing all I can to make sure it doesn't happen. Besides it's not even just that; it's more a trait I've developed from the area I live in, my apartment is in a pretty bad neighborhood, so ive got in the habit of opening my door with a gun in my hand. Nothing personal, or psychotic. Right? Paranoia? Trust issues? No, I call it peace of mind.

“Susume ev, wasuwe Nunu.” the man says this, and does a slow half lunge, touching his chest with his freehand. Then returns to his relaxed stance. Looks like as much an introduction as i've ever seen.

“Err, I'm Vasco, uh Reese.” I say, similarly touching my chest with my freehand.

The man, Nunu I guess, smiles and nods then, i can only presume he starts telling me his life story, since he doesn't pause talking for more than the length of time it takes to refill his lungs for the next couple hours at least, despite the fact he’s got to know i have no idea what he's saying.

I stood staring blankly for the first 15 minutes or so before I decided I didn't want to camp in this spot anymore and started policing my camp.

Why move? Well I don't know where I am, and I don't like that; and even if I find myself pretty close to my usual campsite, I'd rather be there than here. I need to get my bearings, find a road or something. I was sure I picked the spot I always go camping, I've come here for years, ever since my uncle found this spot, and sure I may have been a little… emotional coming up, but I definitely knew where I was when I pulled up and set camp, despite what sister says the forest does not all look the same, and I've left my mark on my campsite, stuff nobody else would notice, like a decent sized branch missing from a tree I made testing a new hatchet, or my own little secluded squat spot, spottable from camp but you can't see into unless you go around. Besides even if I didn't camp in the right spot, I did camp the the right fucking ecosystem! Where the hell am i? I wasn't that drunk right? No, no I set camp before I started drinking.

Well, it doesn't matter really, I'm already doing what I can to find where I am.

Also, i don't want random foreign cosplayers wandering through my camp, i doubt i have to say why.

Sleeping roll, sleeping bag, tent, tarp, broken down, and tossed into the car. I grabbed my rake from my car, (if you don't take a rake camping you really should) and cleaned up all the glass I could, only now realizing I didn't really have a container to hold broken glass, plastic bags, sure, but you try carrying a plastic bag full of broken glass and don't tell me how it went, because I already know, I literally have the scars to tell that story. I decided i'd bury the shards, (you should bring a shovel camping too) but Nunu, to my surprise, objected. He didn't object the burying, I think, but throwing away the glass, he seemed really interested in keeping the shards, as well as the unbroken bottles, so I let him have at it, only then realizing he had an empty animal skin bag hanging from his loincloth at the back. He seemed positively extatic while gingerly placing the bottles and fractals in his bag. There was still excess, pieces too small to bother with, so i went ahead and buried that, then wrapped up cleaning camp, you know ‘leave it better than you found it’ and all that.

Interrupting the riveting tale being told I interject with, “Uh, well Nunu, i'm gonna go, ok? You don't err, need a ride or something right?"

Why am I asking him anything? The dude doesn't understand a goddamn word I'm saying, God I'm stupid I could say 'ooga booga, ive got three balls, george bush did 4/20, fuck Bob Ross' and the guy wouldn't blink an eye…

Not that I'd ever say 'fuck Bob Ross.' you don't need someone to understand you if you say that, the universe knows and will get you back.

Anyway, I repeat myself a few times, in various ways, and with many gestures. Nunu smiles and nods, despite the fact im certain he has no earthly idea what i'm trying to tell him. I get tired of charades and turn to get in my truck, which finally gets a reaction from him, and he starts speaking a bit faster than when talking earlier and gesturing in the direction behind him, clearly wanting me to go with him.

God am i stupid? Braindead? Just plain naive? Because, am i really considering going with this guy? Im considering going with this guy. Why would I go with this guy?

“Susume Nacoo, seane bome taan” Nunu says, once again gesturing behind himself, once again a grin and a nod accompanying his weathered features.

Goddamnit, i'm going with Nunu. im fucking driving though, im in no mood for a hike right now for so many reasons. ugh, so many. Besides, i just noticed the man doesn't have shoes on. what poor crazy bastard traipses through a forest without shoes on? And I did say id give him a ride… ugh.

I'm hungry. Whew. ok.

I wave in the same direction he was, and nod with a brisk non-smile. Opening the passenger door, i move to try herding the guy into the car like cattle, which proved unnecessary since the guy practically flew as he dropped his spear and hopped right onto the passenger seat. As soon as he sat down his attitude went from relaxed curiosity to full blown kid-the-night-before-christmas electrical excitement. Turning this way and that, and touching everything, all while exclaiming whenever he found something he liked; ‘Susume Nacoo! Susume Nacoo! blah blah! warb warb! leedle leedle!.’ and he liked fucking everything. The seat, mirrors, dashboard, carpet, floormat, roof, seatbelt, window, ‘oh shit bar,’ door, door handle, you get the picture. And again, touching everything. I try to calm myself while picking up his spear and straping it to the roof, then i remind myself i dont need to be so anal while walking to the drivers side, and finaly remind myself i always have disinfectant whipes while i place Freya in the back seat and go to sit down. He looks like he wanted to reach back to touch Freya like all my upholstery, but a glare and a shake of the head firmly deterres him.

Zen, see? Cucumber like. Chill like a garage freezer. Smooth too, smooth like skippy. Im fine. Just woke up on the wrong side of the rock that was in my back all night. That's all. Pff, yea, right. My head, my thoughts are like a puddle in the middle of a landfill, sloggy, putrid, thick soup of ideas and feelings and memories and i cant hold onto a single one, it's all mixed; diluted into itself. My body feels like it's following my heads lead as the ground underneath the soupy sludge, like years of compost, rotting, damp, just disgusting.

It's probably all in my head, I can't actually smell like a landfill right? I just showered yesterday. No it smells like my car, and faintly like sweat, but it's nowhere near as bad as i thought it was for a moment. No smell, but i still feel like shit.

I turn the key, truck starts, readjust mirror, seatbelt, make sure im in four-wheel-drive, and turn to Nunu to see why the hell he just started freaking the fuck out.

Where a moment ago Nunu was chattering and vibrating in excitement, now it looks like he's panick yelping, and shivering in fear, like an eight year old in a haunted house. Thank god he's not crying, that's a step more than i can handle right now.

Whew. I got this, I got this. “Hey, Nunu… Nunu yo man. Nu- fuck my life. HEY! HEY! SHUTTHEFUCKUP!” great. Now he's whimpering. Sounds just like my grandpa's old dog when you didn't share your food; swear to god by sound alone you'd think the little asshole was getting beaten. That dog lived better than i do. No, im not jealous of a dog, shut up.

“Listen Nunu, we’re fine, we’re good, okay? You gotta stop screaming my man, take it down, you were at like defcon nine, you gotta bring it down to like a four ok? Hehe hoo hehe hoo, just breath.”

It takes a moment but that more or less does the trick, once he imitates the ‘he’s and hoo’s’ he settles at a still jittery six and with wild eyes, the words fire out of his mouth like a jet-plane spitting air, “S-sume Nac-coo sav-va meh burcurur-growowowow.” starting with a high pitched ‘bur’ and working to a low, growling ‘grow’ it's pretty obvious he's imitating my truck starting, which I guess is what set him off. Oh, boy he's not… is he? This guy might be… uh… special. High functioning? Early onset alzheimers? Plain obtuse? This is perfect, just what I need. Fucking fuckety fuckin perfect.

“Here, my man. Feel the dash. See? It's just my, car we’re fine. All's good.”

The fear visibly melts away once he feels the rumbling of the dashboard, and he chuckles ruefully to himself a little, before sitting back in the chair, still looking somewhat apprehensive, and a whole lot less energised. Thank god.

“Alright, off we go.” I say as I put the car in drive and slowly release the break, allowing the vehicle to creep along steadily across the, very noticeably, very uneven ground. Nunu's excitement surfaces again, but he stays still, like a pot of water just a few degrees from boiling. As we coast along, a bit faster than jogging pace, Nunu tempers his still growing jubilance, and starts course correcting by pointing if i need to start going this way or that. It's pretty easy to tell, but he isn't taking me ‘as the crow flies’ it feels more like ‘as the ant walks,’ like he's leading me back the exact way he , but found me. we’re generally headed in the direction he first pointed, so i just hope its right and decide to play along for a few miles at least, to see if there's anything to see. He also continues the one sided conversation we had while I was cleaning up my camp. In my heart I thank sweet baby Jesus for scaring some restraint into the man sitting next to me, because if he didn't experience that terror he felt just awhile ago i get the feeling he’d be utterly insufferable.

It occurres to me, once again, that something is wrong. This time though, rather than the environment, or temperature, or wierd wildlife, or even the fact there's a somewhat mentaly deficiant cannibal cosplayer in my front seat; no what's wrong with this picture is me.

It's like I'm in a daze, I'm not myself. I think I'm a nice enough guy, but it's not like me to disregard not knowing where the fuck I am to babysit some guy almost three times my age. One emergency at a time right? Don't jump in the water to save someone if it just means there'll be two corpses. It's not like me to lose my temper because someone is having a panick attack next to me either. I'm usually the calm, the rock, the patient understanding type. I wake up in a forest I don't know and am just okay with it? Admittedly I probably wouldn't panick in that situation anyway, but I'd probably be peeved or, you know, concerned maybe. curious at least. Nothing: I'm a zombie right now, and I really really hate to admit it but it's pretty obvious why. I left my copy of Dark Souls 3 at Mia's house. Haha, naw I'm just playing; what it actually is, is that I'm emotionally crushed.

I don't know if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together but I was really happy with Mia. She was one of my closest friends. Couple classes together freshman year, and we're friends, start sharing our social circles. Classes together gain sophomore, and we get closer, besties; start dating that summer, and boom steady going since. now that I think about it we did kinda start drifting once she went to university and I started working full time, but we still hung out together at least twice a week. We didn't live that far apart, a 10 minute drive, plus texting and calling, practically joined at the hip I thought. Well, like I said things did change once we were apart more often than not, my "friends" and Mia seemed closer, and it felt like I was… not being pushed out of the group but, like more of an outsider. at the time I figured it was inevitable since I was the only one who didn't go straight to college out of highschool with everyone. Our interests started changing a bit, she wanted to go out more, I wanted to stay in more, it's hard wanting to stay away from home when you're away from it all day. But we rarely fought, spats and little shit that was forgotten about later that day more often than not, and we've always done that, so it was hardly red flag behavior. I never would've thought, this is how it'd end.

Cheating? I might've seen us splitting over a debate about Ben and Jerry's flavors, but cheating? It's arrogant to say but we should've been above that, it's just-... Is… is that cow a sheep? A five foot tall sheep? A herd of cow sized sheep?

"Uama neva Susuma Nacoo."

Nunu pulls my attention from the herd of absolute units and points to what looks like a pile of boulders about a quarter mile away, as we get closer I can see people in the distance, and silently praise myself for a successful first babysitting venture.