“Dude. Dude!”

I awoke, my face planted flat against the earth. I rolled over to find Farmer John, complete in overalls and a straw hat standing, over me.

“What you doing in my chicken coop, frightening my birds?”

Hay was stuck to my cheek and hair. “Where am I?”

“In my chicken coop, lying in poop.”

I pushed myself to a seated position. “Oh, I thought I smelled something.”

Lush green fields as far as I could see. I drew in a deep breath of that sweet, sweet air. The great outdoors! And during this quarantine. “Wow. This is a nice place you have here. But there aren’t any farms near the city. Can’t figure out where I am. What town is this?”

“Town? No town. It’s a farm. That’s my cows over there. You lying in my chicken coup. Got some turkeys in the next yard. Why don’t you get up?”

I put my hand out for Farmer John to help me up, but he ignored it. Right, social-distancing. I crawled to my knees and stood. I brushed off the hay and chicken poop.

“I’m Zack. I live in Weldon, in an apartment. Actually, a pretty cramped place. Normally, I’m like this active guy, you know. Bike to work. Jog. Play football with my buddies on the weekend. But with this self-quarantine stuff, I’m not moving much, been having problems falling asleep. Sometimes, I just fall asleep on the spot. Think I might have done that here.”

Farmer John nodded and looked like he was chewing his cud. Didn’t offer me his name. I’d stick with Farmer John. Don’t know how I got this far from home. Hadn’t been out of the apartment in weeks, but I wasn’t missing the lovely view of the apartment building across the street. Hadn’t had this much fresh air in months.

“Don’t know of any Weldon in these parts,” Farmer John said. “You stink. Don’t they have soap in that city of yours?”

He was right; I smelled pretty rank. “We used up the soap washing our hands twenty times a day. When I went to buy more, it was all sold out. If you could just tell me the name of the closest town, I can look it up on my GPS.” I tapped my back pockets, then my shirt pocket.

Nothing.

I would never have left home without my phone. “Did you see my car?”

“Ain’t seen no car. Now, you need to get moving. I got chores to do.”

He led me out of the chicken coop to the front of a barn. He pointed down a gravel drive, leading away from the farm. “Follow that to the main road.”

“Once I reach the road, do I go right or left?”

“That depends on where you’re going, don’t it?”

“Never heard of Weldon?”

“Nope.”

I gazed down the drive. Maybe there would be a sign at the main road. Maybe my car, but I didn’t have any keys in my pockets either. “Okay then. Thanks.”

I took a deep breath, squared myself up, and started walking toward the main road. Last thing I remembered was my wife’s voice. Couldn’t remember what she’d said, though. Hadn’t been paying much attention. Would she have drugged me and brought me out here and dumped me? I’d been a bit of a baby about this whole quarantine stuff. Should have been nicer, kinder. She was having a hard time, too.

I reached the main road and looked right, then left. No signs. No cars. Just gentle, rolling hills into infinity.

A sharp pain cut into my calf.

“Get your feet off the coffee table,” my wife said, kicking me a second time.

I rolled my head up off my chest and pulled my feet off the table.

I stretched. “Think I’ll take a shower.”

“Hallelujah!”

© May 2020 Nicola Trwst