As we continued on our journey, I knew I had to keep my emotions in check and be strong for Gabriel's sake. I took a deep breath and reached into my backpack, pulling out a snack for him and one for myself. As we sat down on a nearby log to eat, I asked him about his second-grade experiences, trying to distract him from our dire situation.
"Hey, Gabriel, how's school going?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Are you liking second grade?"
Gabriel's eyes lit up, and he began to tell me about his teacher, Mrs. Johnson, and his friends, Timmy and Emma. He chattered excitedly about their recent field trip to the zoo and the art project they had done last week. I listened intently, smiling and nodding along, trying to show him that I was interested.
As we ate and talked, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. This was what normal life was supposed to be like - a big brother asking about his little brother's day, listening to his stories, and sharing in his joys. Not trekking through a dense forest, fighting for survival.
But I pushed aside those thoughts and focused on the present moment. I was determined to make this conversation as normal as possible, to give Gabriel a sense of comfort and familiarity in the midst of all this chaos.
As we finished our snacks, I asked him more questions, probing for details about his favorite subjects (math and recess, of course!) and his favorite books (anything with dragons or superheroes). Gabriel's eyes sparkled with excitement, and for a brief moment, I forgot about our predicament. We were just two brothers, hanging out and talking about life.
But as the conversation wound down, reality crept back in. We were still lost in the wilderness, with no clear way out. I knew I had to keep us moving, to find shelter and safety before nightfall. I stood up, shouldering my backpack, and looked down at Gabriel.
"Ready to keep going, little bro?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
Gabriel nodded, his eyes still shining with excitement from our conversation. I smiled and ruffled his hair, feeling a surge of love and protectiveness towards him.
"Let's do this," I said, and we set off into the unknown once again.
Gabriel's innocent question echoed in my mind, "When is Mom coming?" I felt a pang of guilt and uncertainty, not knowing how to respond. How could I tell him that I had no idea where Mom was, that we were completely lost and alone in the wilderness? The thought of revealing the truth to him was daunting, so I decided to continue pretending, to shield him from the harsh reality.
"Hey, Gabriel, Mom is waiting for us somewhere ahead," I said, trying to sound convincing. "We just need to keep moving forward, and we'll find her soon."
I pointed towards the river, trying to sound confident. "She's probably waiting for us by the water, where it's safe and easy to find us."
Gabriel's eyes lit up with hope, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Let's go find Mom!"
I forced a smile, feeling a mix of emotions. I was relieved that Gabriel believed me, but also felt guilty for deceiving him. Yet, I knew it was necessary to keep him calm and motivated.
As we continued walking, I tried to distract him with stories and games, trying to take his mind off Mom's absence. But the question kept echoing in my mind, "When is Mom coming?" I knew I had to keep pretending, to keep Gabriel's spirits up, until we found a way out of this wilderness.
The river seemed like a distant dream, a beacon of hope in this desolate landscape. I prayed that we would find it soon, that it would lead us to safety and reunite us with Mom. Until then, I would keep pretending, keep reassuring Gabriel that everything would be okay.
The memory of Mom being sucked out of the airplane flooded my mind, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had been lingering since the crash. I had tried to push it aside, to focus on keeping Gabriel safe and finding a way out of the wilderness, but the truth was, I had no idea if we would ever see Mom again.
The image of her being pulled out of the plane, her screams echoing in my ears, was etched in my mind like a haunting nightmare. I had tried to reach out to her, to grab her hand, but it was too late. The wind had been too strong, and she was gone, vanished into the darkness.
I couldn't bear the thought of telling Gabriel that Mom might be gone forever. He was so young, so innocent, and he needed his mother. I needed her too. We both needed her guidance, her love, her presence. But deep down, I knew that I had to prepare myself for the worst.
As we walked, the silence between us was deafening. Gabriel chattered occasionally, asking me questions about Mom, but I dodged them, not wanting to crush his hopes. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth, not yet. Maybe never.
The thought of never seeing Mom again was like a heavy weight crushing my chest. I felt like I was suffocating, like the air was being squeezed out of my lungs. I forced myself to take deep breaths, to keep moving forward, but the pain was overwhelming.
I looked down at Gabriel, his eyes shining with hope, his face trusting. He believed that we would find Mom, that she would be waiting for us at the river. I wished I could share his optimism, but I knew better. I knew that the wilderness was unforgiving, that accidents happened, and that sometimes, people didn't come back.
But for Gabriel's sake, I would keep pretending, keep hoping, keep moving forward. Even if it was just a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark of possibility, I would hold onto it, for both our sakes.