"I gotcha!" Was all I could yell. My hands were firmly gripped on a rope. That rope was all that kept Stan from plummeting to the bottom of the chasm. Slowly but surely, Stan climbed down the icy cliff.
"Alright dude, I'm down!" He called back to me.
I shuddered with involuntary fear. I was never very fond of heights, and the idea of climbing down a fifty foot cliff made my stomach boil. I started to search for a sturdy tree that would be able to support my climbing rope. The thick forest in front of me offered a wide variety of acceptable candidates. A bulging fat conifer with snow laden branches was my tree of choice. I double and triple knotted the thick nylon rope to the tree, and then did a quick sign of the cross. I strapped a harness across my body and locked the rope into the carabiner. Now, I approach the ledge while avoiding the urge to look down.
"That looks like a good place to start Butters!" Stan yelled back up at me.
I took a deep breath and then began my decent. My arms and feet worked in unrivaled coordination as they each found a rock or crack to support my weight.
All was going well until suddenly, CRACK!
The outcrop, which I assumed my foot was securely placed on, turned out to only be a large chunk of ice that was frozen on to the side of the cliff. It crumbled away under the stress of my body weight.
"Holy shit! Hang on Butters!" Stan cried up at me as he dodged the shards of ice that where falling towards him. Screaming was all I could do to release the horror raging through my heart. My hands, which were planted in a crack in the frozen cliff, and the repelling line were all that kept me alive. My feet were dangling freely in the air. Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I peaked down to investigate my progress. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly regretted my mistake. All I could do is pull myself closer to hug the frosty stone of the cliff. My pulse was raging in my eardrums and my rapid breathing made a steady cloud of white steam in the dry winter air. I was trembling from head to toe as I tried to restore my thought process and contemplate my next move.
I had at least thirty feet to descend before I would be at the bottom. Having had climbed mountains many times before in the mountain scouts, I could not figure out why this one so different. The memories of my previous climbing excursions instantly revealed the solution to me. It was so obvious what I should do. I slowly moved my jittery hand towards my harness and gripped the lever that regulated the flow of the nylon rope. I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to soothe myself.
You can do this.
And without wasting another moment, I pushed myself off the face of the cliff with the power of my feet. In perfect synchronization, I depressed the lever of my harness, allowing the rope to run through the device. The eerie sensation of free fall was an odd relief to me as I continued downward. By the time I had my feet planted again on the side of the cliff, I had fallen at least ten feet. I now was standing perpendicular to the wall, as if nature had suddenly reversed the effect of gravity. With renewed confidence, I repeated my jump down allowing the rope to control my fall back to solid ground. Happy to finally be back on solid and level earth, I looked up at an astonished Stan. Before he could even say the words that where on the edge of his tongue I said,
"How s-silly of me to forget that repelling is easier then just climbing."
Stan just shook his head at me, he was grinning in mild amusement.
"I hope that will be the last time we gotta climb down something like that." He said back to me.
"Why? I-I think that was mighty fun now that I'm down here." I said playfully.
We laughed together as we resumed our journey towards Ft. Collins. We were still surrounded by a dense forest of evergreens. The sky was dark and grey, burdened with a thick blanket of clouds. The unrelenting darkness of the clouds kept the much desired warmth of sunlight away from us.
"I wonder how the war is going." I said out loud.
"Can't be good," Stan replied in a cynical tone.
"B-but how can we loose, huh Stan? Our soldiers and our nation are supposed to be the best in the world." I responded in hopes of countering Stan's pessimism.
"It's complicated Butters" Stan sighed back to me. However, he must have sensed my unwavering curiosity. He slowed down so that he was walking right next to me. He looked at me in the eye as he started to explain.
"Butters, we used to be the best. We were a nation built on strength and systematic chaos. People were strong because that's what it took to survive. You see, back then, a man had to either grow his own food or make enough money to buy some. If he didn't, he and his family would starve. Now, anyone can go to a welfare office and pick up a check from the government. The motive to work hard so that you can live has disappeared. That same person who received the welfare check can go and buy cigarettes and beer with that money he didn't earn. Then, a few years down the line, he gets a government paid stay at the hospital so that doctors can undo the damage he did to his lungs and liver. Back when America was at her best, the weak either had to become strong or they died off. This natural system has been destroyed by welfare, social security and universal healthcare. People no longer strive to be the best because they do not perceive any reason for it. There is no reward for their efforts."
"So, we did this to ourselves?" I whispered. I was kneading my knuckles in contemplation while trying to understand what Stan had just told me.
"Yea dude, then we sent our diplomats and troops around the world to brag and bully everyone into believing how much better our government and culture is. But we had already forgotten what had made us strong in the first place. We forgot about the constitution, and the value of hard work. We have become a nation of hypocrites." Stan finished with those words which chilled my heart.
Deep in thought I glanced back up at the sky. The blackness that had enveloped my emotions and my nation was also literally spreading across the atmosphere as night approached. My legs ached from the stress of continuous usage. My shoulders pleaded to be relieved of the heavy burden or my backpack.
"Hey Stan, maybe we should camp out here tonight. I suppose we can make it to Ft. Collins tomorrow with a good night's sleep." I said while hoping Stan would agree with me.
Stan also looked like he was exhausted. His sky blue eyes were half closed as they succumbed to drowsiness. We pitched a camp at the edge of the dense woods that we had just been traveled through. Currently, I was locked in an epic struggle with the viscous winter wind. It was blowing through my hair without mercy and caused my scalp to go numb. I lit my twentieth match, but before I could guard it from the relentless gust, it flickered out. I angrily tossed the smoldering splinter of wood into the pile of wood and other wasted matches. Stan, who was seated next to me, was digging through his backpack. Finally, he produced a small tin can full of clear liquid. The rancid odor revealed it to be some sort of gasoline. Stan proceeded to pour a liberal amount of the fluid all over the pile of firewood. We then both moved to form a human barrier to combat the wind. I lit another match and threw it into the pile just in time to ignite the fuel. The bright flash pushed both me and Stan back as we admired our newly created inferno.
"Neato!" I cried out.
I could already feel the heat begin to thaw my face. The long day's hike had really made me hungry. I searched my backpack for something edible and only found a few remaining MREs. Unable to decide on one, I turned to Stan and said,
"H-Hey Stan, what do you prefer? Chicken habenero, chicken soup with rice or chicken fettuccini alfredo?"
"Do you have anything other then chicken?" He replied with a scowl on his face.
My second search of my pack revealed nothing; I shook my head to indicate a no.
"Chicken habenero then." He said in resignation.
I immediately set out to prepare our dinner. Stan remained lying on his side next to me, enjoying the mellow warmth of the fire. Although the chicken was very bland, it was very filling. I was now resting on top of my freshly unrolled sleeping bag. My eyes were staring up at the heaven above me, wishing that the sky would clear out so that I could gaze at the stars. If anything fascinated me, it was the stars. I often dreamed of traveling amongst them and to visit other planets. The forest was still very quiet; the whisper of the wind flowing through the branches of the trees was barely audible. Hoping to quench that silence, I grabbed my MP3 player out of my backpack. After placing the headphones over my ears, I selected a song and listened in relaxed euphoria.
I was still recovering from the horrible chicken I had just devoured. The thick habenero sauce felt like a puddle of cement inside my stomach. I looked over to Butters to find him quietly lying on his back, listening to his headphones. Feeling lonely, I asked,
"Hey Butters, watcha listening to?"
Butters looked over at me and said,
"Well, I don't think you'd like them too much, didn't you say you hate my music?"
"I said I hate it when you try to sing dude, I honestly don't know what you usually listen to"
Perhaps he recognized my genuine interest, because after staring at me for a few moments, he passed his headphones to me. The band was unlike anything I had ever heard. The music sounded like some strange mash of rock and jazz.
"Who are these guys?" I asked
"Dream Theater" Butters replied back excitedly.
"'This the only song you got of them?"
"Well heck no, here's one of my favorites called Change of Seasons" Butters said while tapping a couple of buttons on his MP3 player. This song was a bit different from the first song I heard. It started with a fast paced instrumental intro, and with each passing minute, I started to like the band. I closed my eyes as I relaxed to the melody playing. Butters soon nudged me.
"Look Stan" he whispered.
I sat up to find dozens of flashes lighting up the horizon. The flashes came in twos and threes with an occasional bright red flare. Had the flashes been coming from the direction of our destination, I would not have been as concerned. However, the dark shadow of fear entered my heart. I looked over to Butters, his usual bright and happy face was also consumed with terror. We continued to watch the artillery fight rage on in the distance until I finally fell asleep.
It must have snowed some time that night, because I woke up to find myself covered with a thick blanket of winter powder. Unable to bear the numbness anymore, I rubbed my hands over my cheeks to warm them up. I then proceeded to "water" a nearby conifer tree. The clouds, which covered the sky all day yesterday, had disappeared. I could feel my eyes struggling to adjust to the bright sunlight. By the time I returned to my sleeping bag, Butters was stirring back to life. He was yawning uncontrollably while rubbing his eyes.
"What time i-is it?!" he asked.
"Must be pretty early", I said after examining the position of the sun.
Now curious to judge exactly how close we were to Ft. Collins, I panned the horizon. The brilliant white landscape of a winter wonderland was all that my eyes were able to intercept. The forest behind us was heavy laden with snow. The downward slope of the large clearing we were camped in smooth with powdery white snow. With the sun finally out and my high position on the hill, I had a perfect view of the valley below. I large, partially frozen river snaked through the trees. Next to the river, rose a large mountain, small clouds of smoke were rising from it.
"There it is." I said to Butters. He stepped over to me to also gaze at our now visible destination.
"It, it's burning…" I said in hopelessly.
"Now Stan, Ft. Collins is the strongest fortress in all of Colorado. My dad might be there and his soldiers are the toughest sons of guns you will ever meet." Butters said to me encouragingly.
His optimism never ceased to amaze me, and his words hit me in all the right places. I simply nodded to him with a reformed smile. Together now with my friend, I packed camp to make our final run to safety.
Our track through the trees immediately surrounding Ft. Collins was nerve wrecking. The forest was so quiet and deathly still. We expected to be attacked at any moment. My eyes where constantly scanning my surroundings, Butters stayed very close to me with his M1 ready. Halfway through the forest, I heard a rumbling sound that seemed to get louder with every step I took. The source was a clearing not fifty yards away from me. Unable to contain my curiosity I stopped. Butters looked up at me with a puzzled expression.
"What?" he mouthed to me, not even daring to whisper it.
I motioned for him to follow me. We both approached the clearing from which the sounds where coming. There must have been thousands of them; who were all scurrying around like ants. The camp was surrounded by several layers of razor sharp barbed wire and six foot deep trench. Inside the fence was a city of snow laden green tents all in perfect alignment. Most of the soldiers were huddled around large fires, all trying to keep warm in the unfamiliar rocky mountain climate. Butters was gazing through the scope of his rifle, aiming at the far end of the camp. I quickly nudged him in fear that he would fire the gun.
"I'm not going t-to shoot, look" he said while pointing at what he was targeting.
Even without telescopic vision, I could see the dozens of massive howitzer guns lining the opposite side of encampment. The barrels must have been thicker than my entire body.
"Those must have been what were causing all those explosions last night" I whispered to Butters, who was still peeking through his rifle. An uncomfortable tingle was developing on the back of my neck with each moment we remained staring at the distant enemy soldiers. When it became unbearable, I nudged Butters and said,
"Dude, we better go before someone sees us"
He nodded back to me with a now nervous look on his face. We both quickly turned around began to run away from the clearing. Suddenly two figures, whose white camouflage had made them previously invisible, jumped up in front of us. They both pointed their assault rifles at my chest, daring us to try and go on any further. I immediately turned around to find five other soldiers clad in the same camouflage closing in behind us. Butters dropped his rifle and held his hands up.
"Oh double hamburgers, we've been caught" he moaned in resignation. I turned back to see one of the soldiers walking towards me. He reached up to his face to remove the smooth white mask covering his mouth and lift his emerald green goggles. His steel grey eyes where wide with surprise and suspicion.
"Americans? Children?!?" He said in a deep and crisp voice. The other soldiers in the group started to lower their rifles, glad to have found friends instead of foes.
"Who are you boys and what are you doing out here?" The man inquired.
"I'm Stan Marsh and this is Butters Stotch. We are both survivors from South Park" I answered.
The man looked back at me apprehensively, but he seemed to believe my explanation.
"Good thing we found you two before another Chinese patrol came along." He said while pointing to a distant patch in the woods where his unit had ambushed the enemy.
"I am Lieutenant Johnson of the 116th Army Rangers regiment. What was your name again?" He asked while pointing to Butters.
"Butters Stotch sir," my friend replied in a nervous voice.
The man stared back at him in deep thought. He retrieved a radio which was clipped to his belt and began to have a conversation with a man on the other end. When he finished, he replaced the radio and continued to look at Butters.
"Come with us boys, you are safe now. The captain wants you both brought back to our outpost." He said to assure us.
The other rangers formed a protective bubble around us while gazing around the forest for any hint of an approaching foe. We immediately set off at a very fast pace. The forest was darker than ever; the thick tree branches barely allowed any sunlight through. There was now a large pile of boulders, which where the size of cars, directly in front of us. Our party proceeded towards the rocks. Hidden within those rocks where several more army rangers, all them dressed in the same white uniforms. They where all idly talking to each other, until they noticed our approach.
"Butters?!?" one of the soldiers cried out in a familiar voice. I turned around to see my friend run towards the man.
"DAD!!" he yelled as he jumped into his fathers arms. Chris Stotch grasped is son in amazement.