The Journey Back Read Online Free
Author: Priscilla Cummings
floor where I could push it with my feet.
The truck stopped again, so I did, too. I waited and was quiet, listening. Couldnât hear anything though. Then all of a sudden the top pulled back and sunlight poured in. They were making another pickup, and I had to brace myself for the onslaught of more trash that came pouring down on top of me. I put my hands up to stop stuff from hitting my head. Lucky for me, there wasnât a ton of it that time.
The top slid shut.
Bang!
Darkness again. The truck jerked forward and the compactor whirred. I had to force myself to breathe it smelled so bad, and it seemed like there was less and less oxygen or something. I couldnât get a full breath. I kept breathing and pushing the shovel with my feet until I heard a loud
ker-chunk
and the whirring stopped. I couldnât move the shovel anymore. Had it jammed the blade?
All I could do then was breathe. Shallow breaths because of the smell. Breathe and wait. Wait and breathe.
A few minutes later, the truck came to another stop. I heard voices and the banging sounds of someone climbing up the side. I had a pretty good idea what was happening. The compactor had jammed all right, just like I wanted it to. But a light in the cab was flashingâorange light if I rememberedâso the guys up in the cab would be coming out to take a look.
The top slid open and light seeped through the bags of garbage and trash.
âI donât know!â a guy hollered. âI donât see nothinâ. Not from here!â
A long moment passed. No conversation. No movement. If they started rooting through the trash, it was over.
Suddenly, the top slammed shut again and total darkness surrounded me as the whirring, grinding compactor started up again. I closed my eyes tight, hoping the shovel would hold, but almost immediately, I heard a loud
crack!
and felt the handle of that shovel snap in two under my feet.
Everythingâincluding meâwas slowly shoved toward the rear of the truck. There wasnât anything I could do to stop it. My whole body got squeezed so hard I couldnât move my legs or my arms, and my face got smashed into a slime-covered garbage bag. Some of that crap actually got in my mouth and made me want to throw up. Then my arm got caught and was pushed up behind my back. I struggled to take more shallow breaths and could feel my face and hands sweat. I never cryâ
never
âI stopped cryinâ years ago. But I think there were tears in my eyes. I figured this was the end for me.
In that moment, I realized I wasnât ready to die. Maybe I had thought there was nothing to lose, but suddenly I knew how much I wanted to live. I wanted to be with my mom and LeeAnn and Hank again. I wanted to see my grandfather before he died. I wanted a chance for a good lifeâlike maybe I could go back to school and graduate and make something of myself. I once dreamed of joining the Marines.
All these thoughts kind of flashed through my mind. Then, like somebody blew a fuse, everything stopped. No light. No sound. No putrid smell. No vibrations under my feet. Nothing . . . âcause I mustâve blacked out.
CHAPTER THREE
----
RUNNING
D id you ever wake up in the morning and not know what day it was? Thatâs what it was like for me, except I had a lot more to figure out than just the day. I didnât know
where
I was, or, at first, even
who
I was! All I knew is that it was dark, I was running out of oxygen, it smelled bad, and something smooshed against my face. Did I fall down a black hole to Hell? Was I buried alive? What?
Slowly, it dawned on me. Then, like the faucet suddenly got turned on, my whole life gushed out. I was Michael Griswald, only everyone called me Digger. I had a mom, and a little brother and sister back home who I loved a lot. I also had a father who drank and got mean. We lived in the country in a small yellow house with a toilet that didnât work and a lot of junk
The truck stopped again, so I did, too. I waited and was quiet, listening. Couldnât hear anything though. Then all of a sudden the top pulled back and sunlight poured in. They were making another pickup, and I had to brace myself for the onslaught of more trash that came pouring down on top of me. I put my hands up to stop stuff from hitting my head. Lucky for me, there wasnât a ton of it that time.
The top slid shut.
Bang!
Darkness again. The truck jerked forward and the compactor whirred. I had to force myself to breathe it smelled so bad, and it seemed like there was less and less oxygen or something. I couldnât get a full breath. I kept breathing and pushing the shovel with my feet until I heard a loud
ker-chunk
and the whirring stopped. I couldnât move the shovel anymore. Had it jammed the blade?
All I could do then was breathe. Shallow breaths because of the smell. Breathe and wait. Wait and breathe.
A few minutes later, the truck came to another stop. I heard voices and the banging sounds of someone climbing up the side. I had a pretty good idea what was happening. The compactor had jammed all right, just like I wanted it to. But a light in the cab was flashingâorange light if I rememberedâso the guys up in the cab would be coming out to take a look.
The top slid open and light seeped through the bags of garbage and trash.
âI donât know!â a guy hollered. âI donât see nothinâ. Not from here!â
A long moment passed. No conversation. No movement. If they started rooting through the trash, it was over.
Suddenly, the top slammed shut again and total darkness surrounded me as the whirring, grinding compactor started up again. I closed my eyes tight, hoping the shovel would hold, but almost immediately, I heard a loud
crack!
and felt the handle of that shovel snap in two under my feet.
Everythingâincluding meâwas slowly shoved toward the rear of the truck. There wasnât anything I could do to stop it. My whole body got squeezed so hard I couldnât move my legs or my arms, and my face got smashed into a slime-covered garbage bag. Some of that crap actually got in my mouth and made me want to throw up. Then my arm got caught and was pushed up behind my back. I struggled to take more shallow breaths and could feel my face and hands sweat. I never cryâ
never
âI stopped cryinâ years ago. But I think there were tears in my eyes. I figured this was the end for me.
In that moment, I realized I wasnât ready to die. Maybe I had thought there was nothing to lose, but suddenly I knew how much I wanted to live. I wanted to be with my mom and LeeAnn and Hank again. I wanted to see my grandfather before he died. I wanted a chance for a good lifeâlike maybe I could go back to school and graduate and make something of myself. I once dreamed of joining the Marines.
All these thoughts kind of flashed through my mind. Then, like somebody blew a fuse, everything stopped. No light. No sound. No putrid smell. No vibrations under my feet. Nothing . . . âcause I mustâve blacked out.
CHAPTER THREE
----
RUNNING
D id you ever wake up in the morning and not know what day it was? Thatâs what it was like for me, except I had a lot more to figure out than just the day. I didnât know
where
I was, or, at first, even
who
I was! All I knew is that it was dark, I was running out of oxygen, it smelled bad, and something smooshed against my face. Did I fall down a black hole to Hell? Was I buried alive? What?
Slowly, it dawned on me. Then, like the faucet suddenly got turned on, my whole life gushed out. I was Michael Griswald, only everyone called me Digger. I had a mom, and a little brother and sister back home who I loved a lot. I also had a father who drank and got mean. We lived in the country in a small yellow house with a toilet that didnât work and a lot of junk
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