Chris began to question the wisdom of this trip. Already three signs and four people had told him to leave the preserve. Of course, that hadn’t bothered him at the time. In a contradictory act of character, he’d found it easy to tune these warnings out. Chris cursed under his breath, and watched with growing unease as the sun set behind the golden savannah grass. He could already feel the air growing colder- the humidity of the day being smothered by the night.

He glanced around, desperately looking for any place he could hunker down in safely until morning came. He pulled out his phone and groaned. Still no reception.

That’s what you get for driving to the middle of Africa with only three back-up fuel tanks, a voice in the back of his mind piped. He glanced back to the rusty car he’d borrowed from one of the villagers. It was shot- the thing wouldn’t even start. Chris didn’t know squat about cars; he’d always been more of an indoor-sy guy. He thought back to all those years he’d stayed inside his house, working with real estate and hosting barbeques with the neighbors. Of taking his daughters to ballet or driving his son to soccer practice. He had always wanted something more. While he waited for his beloved children to finish their classes, he’d daydream about exploring Africa, visiting Rome, wandering through France, climbing Mount Everest, or even checking out Australia’s preserves. Of course, daydreaming was all he ever did. He divided his time between his work at the office and his four children, and that was it.

Until now.

He breathed in the warm scent of the Savannah plains, and crinkled his nose in pleasure at the dry air- so different from the moist, crisp ambience of Seattle. The sky was the brightest orange he’d ever seen, and he could hear the shrill calls of exotic birds all around him.

Once in a lifetime opportunity.

He took a cautious step forward.

You have five months left.

With a sad smile, he threw his I-phone to the floor.

Cancer.

He broke out into a run, not even looking where he was going. He didn’t care anymore. The setting sun beat down on his back, and the sharp grass cut his bare feet, but he didn’t care. He took in sharp lungful’s of the dry air, gasping them in. God knew how many of those he would have left. He ran, and kept on running. Past strange trees, past herds of gazelle, past hundreds of things he would’ve stopped to look at three months ago.

He kept running. By the time he reached the waterhole, his lungs felt about to burst. His head throbbed, and his mouth felt like two pieces of sandpaper. It was getting dark. He settled himself at the water’s edge, letting the damp mud soak through his shorts. He wasn’t scared at all, for the first time. Chris took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. The whispers of the Savannah were his lullaby, as he tumbled into a deep sleep.