Day 327 - Fossil Story

Fossil Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Russ really missed a good oatmeal stout. He missed his friend Larry, but he really missed the beer. Russ seriously doubted that he would ever be able to see either one again. He was forty-something, but his body looked and felt like an elderly eighty or ninety. He couldn’t actually remember his real age. That was one of the side-effects. He was getting too old too fast. His mind couldn’t comprehend or process it all. He was falling apart. He was ancient. He would be gone soon and no one would ever know the difference.

Larry was the survivor. Russ was sure of that. If he could have bet on it, he would have. Larry promised him that they were both going to make it. Russ wished Larry was there so he could remind him of that promise. Of course if Larry were there, then the point would have been moot. But that was beside the point.  Russ was sure that Larry was going to be alive. Instead Russ was somehow here, trapped, alone.

Russ didn’t know how much longer he could make it. He had enough trouble finding food and water.  But he wasn’t capable of doing much else. He couldn’t protect himself. He couldn’t build anything. His hands failed him. His body failed him. His mind failed him. He wasn’t going to make it much longer. He knew that.

There was a waitress once that was far too young for him, but he loved talking to her. She always smiled and was sarcastic and quick to make a joke. He loved that. He always had a thing for smart waitresses. He thought they had a thing for him. He hoped they did anyway. They probably didn’t. He couldn’t tell. Larry would have told him that they were just after the gratuity. Russ would rather pretend that had nothing to do with it.

There at the bar, there was a thick and bitter beer. It was far too strong and hard for him to drink. It was his favorite beer. It always started sharp and unforgiving, but was smooth by the end of the bottle. Two bottles and he’d feel good all night. Three and there might be trouble. He was sure that when he was a younger man he could have handled more. He couldn’t remember the last time he had that beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw that waitress anywhere other than in his dreams. Maybe it had been a week or a month or a year. Or maybe it had been a million lifetimes ago. Or a million lifetimes from now. He liked to remember her though. It was some small comfort.

He would have killed to be able to have that beer right now, but there was no one around to kill. And Russ wasn’t much of a killer. But still, if he was and there were people, he was sure it would have been a worthwhile trade – a life for a brew.

If there was any means available to him, he would have made his own. But he could hardly find food or shelter, he wasn’t about to be able to make any beer.

Russ knew it was nearly time. He was going to jump again. He didn’t know if his body could handle it. He didn’t know how far back he was going to go this time. The jumps were coming more often and he was aging faster and faster. It was like everything was speeding up as he raced towards his eventual demise.

Russ missed humanity. He missed a recognizable world. He really missed his friend Larry. Larry had promised that they were all going to make it. Maybe they did. There was supposed to be some geological evidence that someone made it. He knew he wasn’t the one to leave a mark. He wasn’t able to do much of anything; he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to be creating some record for the future to find. Maybe they did make it. Maybe Larry made it. Maybe he was the only one to end up so far off the mark. It was a nice thought. He hoped it was true. He really hoped Larry was out there, somewhere, sometime.

Russ was going to go away. He wasn’t sure to where. Maybe this would be his last stop. Maybe. He wasn’t afraid of it. He knew it wasn’t going to get any better, so if it ended that would be okay. Still, before he went, he just wished there was something he could take with him other than his memories, something real, something to remember them all by. But he didn’t have anything to take or to leave behind. He would be forgotten and there would be no trace of all the times he had lived or the people he had touched. He would just have to make peace with that, he supposed. Easier said than done.