Struggles

Here are some excerpts from the book "Struggles."

Story 1

    Dietrich stood silent. The sound of a kick and a motorcycle throttling up came from behind the canteen. He listened as the bike, the man who was to guide them across the border, sped off to the north. Then he stepped out of the men’s room.

    Support little and far between, and ultimately rejection, was nothing new to Dietrich. He was in his natural element now. Shoulders bent, head ever so slightly raised, holding something just short of a smile, he came around the corner exuding an odd confidence. Depositing the key at the service window, making his way towards the pickup, he spied a man, in dirty gray overalls, on the phone on the near side of the canteen.

    He noticed the utility room door slightly open, a broken lock resting on the ground. Leaning on the wall, staring down, the man on the phone looked up as if in response to Dietrich’s own stare. A cold breeze drifted through the thick, humid air. A chill and a shiver shot up the man’s spine, but Dietrich smiled coolly. Never missing stride, he walked calmly to the pickup.

    Hopping in, fumbling with the keys, his hand shook uncontrollably. With a deep breath and one swift motion, he slid the key into the ignition and turned. There was a grumbled rumble and Dietrich dropped the engine into gear, gently pulling out onto the country highway.

    Checking his rear-view mirror…no one followed. .....

Story 2

    As the sun climbed high into the sky, Roger, now covered in sweat, removed his cap and sweatshirt, revealing a sweat-drenched white T-shirt underneath. His muscles, flush with blood from working through the morning hours, clearly bulged in his arms and showed tight through his shirt. Briefly removing his cap again, he wiped his brow with the damp sweatshirt and headed back to his cooler.

    He often paused to admire small forest flowers peeping out of the forest floor or the delicate, richly colored mosses with their intricate structures. The beauty and the lure of the forest had tempted Roger more than once with the idea of gearing up and simply walking off into the forest never to return. But he knew it to be an escape; a shirking of what made him human. That it wouldn’t ultimately lead to the liberation, the peace he sought.

    Earlier, Roger thought he had heard Shadow rummaging deep in the underbrush, over the sounds of the then-lively forest. But it had grown quiet, and worried that Shadow may have possibly gone too deep into the forest, he called out, “Shadow!”