It wasn't how he expected to end up.
Lost and alone, high up in the Rhodopes.
The sun had gone down hours before, and he was sure he'd heard wolves, or maybe jackals. Three days earlier, he hadn't even known jackals were indigenous to Bulgaria!
Had they picked up his scent? Of course they had. But would they seek him out? A midnight snack for the whole pack?
Maybe. Maybe not. He wasn't sure how he smelled to such creatures. This could be a rare instance when his blood pressure medication and lifelong diet of chemically treated faux food might be advantageous.
This whole mess had started a few weeks earlier.
He needed some time off. He needed to be away from everyone he knew, and more importantly, everyone who knew who he was.
The press had not been kind.
His public relations role for a well-known pharmaceutical company had put him front and center when the news broke.
So many kids had died due to tainted medication. It wasn't his fault, but he was the guy on every news report, every interview, every press conference. His was the public face of another corporation proving it placed profits above people. So, he did what any reasonable adult would do.
He walked away.
No two weeks' notice. No severance package. He just stopped going in to work.
He stopped answering his phone.
He ignored texts, emails - hell, he would've ignored smoke signals if anyone had thought to try.
Bulgaria was as good a place to start over as any. He managed a discount flight to the UK, and another budget airline to Sofia. Between long flights, and longer layovers, he had time to make a plan.
It was early autumn. The weather was still not just warm, but hot. He'd head to Varna. The Black Sea coast. Some time at the beach would be a good way to recharge and plot his course.
Money wasn't an issue. His corporate whipping boy days, at least, paid well.
Bulgaria was also relatively cost effective.
One day, he ran into a drunk British expat. The guy joked that he'd made his fortune selling saunas. New ones, high end ones, refitted ones were his specialty. The Brit assured him that, should he be looking for one, he could 'set him up'.
The Brit definitely seemed to know Bulgaria well.
They sat at a beachside bar, quaffing bottles of Shumensko, just chatting the way two guys on separate holidays do.
Bulgaria, apparently, had a lot to offer. It was simultaneously exotic, rustic, and contemporary. It all depended on where you went.
One could rough it in small, nearly forgotten villages. The small towns were quaint, affordable, and had all the mod-cons a man could want. The cities rivaled any in Europe.
Bulgaria was starting to sound like the place he could start over.
He spent the next few days learning the Cyrillic alphabet. It was surprisingly easier than he expected. He learned a few basic words and phrases, just to ease logistics.
The city of Shumen, aside from making a pretty decent beer, seemed to have a lot to offer. A university, museums, lots of tourist attractions. A growing number of people there spoke English, so he'd read.
He could reach Shumen, by train, in a couple of hours, so that was his bourgeoning plan.
Shumen did not disappoint.
OK, maybe not as many English speakers as he'd been led to believe - but he managed.
From the city, he spied a large, possibly concrete, monument high on a hilltop. It looked almost like a brutalist Sphinx - but not quite.
While grabbing an early lunch, he asked the waitress about it. She was maybe 20 and spoke better English than he'd been accustomed to. She explained that it was the Founders of the Bulgarian State Monument. She told him it might inspire him. She didn't explain how or why, but he decided to visit it.
After a second beer.
And a third.
Cold beers on a hot day often sound like a good idea. But maybe not when the day involves climbing 1300 steps to visit a monument.
Halfway up, he swore to himself he'd get in better shape. It took him almost two hours, with plenty of stops along the way, to reach the top.
He practically passed out in the parking lot.
It was a spectacular sight though. Equally impressive was the sight of the city and surrounding hills.
The waitress was right. He was feeling inspired.
Bulgaria, from the little he'd experienced so far, could easily become his new home.
He was sure it would be easier said than done.
He managed to book an Air B&B for a fortnight. He found an English-speaking attorney who assured him he could assist with documents and paperwork necessary to set up residence.
He was informed that the easiest route might be to set up a small business there. The attorney again offered his services with this.
A public relations consulting firm, maybe. He definitely had the experience, and his damaged reputation could probably be salvaged.
Things were looking up for the first time in a good while.
Then he met her.
40ish. Attractive. A little wild. Spoke decent enough English.
She was fun. She was more than happy to show him around, teach him some of the language and the culture. She had no problem whatsoever helping him spend his money.
The Rhodopes, she told him, were magical. God's favorite place on Earth!
There were plenty of villages, a handful of towns and smaller cities, and plenty to explore. There were abandoned villages, where property could be had cheaper than he imagined possible.
A good place to retreat when the process of starting over got a bit overwhelming.
And it was only about a five-hour drive. So, he rented a car and went exploring.
His first mistake was going alone.
His new companion was unable to join him, but she gave him directions and a list of people and places to visit. She insisted she would tell her friends he was coming.
He never found out if she did.
The Dacia Duster he'd rented decided to break down in the middle of nowhere.
That wasn't the most annoying part.
The lack of signal on his mobile phone won that prize.
The sun was getting lower and the shadows longer, and he was surrounded by forest. He couldn't even recall the last town or village he'd seen.
He'd have to just wait it out until another vehicle came along.
Mother Nature came calling first. The snacks, sodas, and bottles of water he'd packed for the trip had exhausted their stay in his digestive tract. They were ready to leave.
Due to years of convenience, and his own sense of civility, he trudged off into the woods to relieve himself.
It should have been easy. A few steps in, do his business, a few steps out.
But the waning sunlight left him unsure of his steps. Just how far had he traipsed into the woods?
Was the road this way?
Or that way?
Ten minutes of walking and the sun was a memory.
Bulgaria, on a clear night, has amazingly bright skies. The Milky Way is often clearly visible, especially this time of year. Not quite bright enough to see where he was going in the woods though.
Within a half hour, he was hopelessly lost.
So, he sat down.
At least he had the night sky to keep him company.
And the sounds of the forest.
The insects, the occasional bird, and the increasingly frequent rustling.
He heard the howls.
Wolves?
Jackals?
Something else?
Around 4am, a truck driver noticed the Duster on the side of the road. He pulled over to investigate.
No one was in the vehicle, and the bonnet was cool.
It had been sitting there for a while.
He made a mental note to alert the authorities when he had phone signal.
Border guards found the car in the morning. There was no sign of the driver. A small search team tracked a single set of footsteps but lost the tracks quickly.
No driver was ever found.
The vehicle was impounded.
After a week, investigation showed the Dacia Duster had been rented by an American. The vehicle was returned to the rental company. The vehicle had broken down due to an electrical issue.
Frontex contacted the U.S. Embassy to report the missing driver.
Comments
Post a Comment