MidReal Story
The Veteran's Treasure: A Teen's Journey
Scenario: Teenage boy helps vitnam vet escape reitrememt home to find burried treasure
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I was twelve years old the first time I helped Henry "Hank" Wilson escape from the retirement home.
I didn't know it at the time, but that was the day my life changed forever.
I was just a kid, bored out of my mind and looking for something to do.
I'd been riding my bike around town all afternoon, but there's only so many times you can pass the same buildings before it gets old.
So I decided to head over to the park and see if any of my friends were hanging out there.
That's when I saw him.
He was standing on the sidewalk across the street from the retirement home, staring up at it like he was trying to decide whether or not he should go in.
He looked like he was about to turn around and walk away when I heard a car coming down the road behind me.
I turned around just in time to see a black sedan pull up in front of the building and two men in suits get out.
I was too far away.
I set my bike down on the grass and ran across the street as fast as I could.
I was almost to them when one of the men grabbed Hank by the arm and started to pull him toward the car.
"Hey!" I yelled, running up to them.
"What are you doing?"
The man turned around and looked at me.
"Get out of here, kid.
This is none of your business."
"I know him," I said.
Hank looked down at me and gave me a quick nod, like he was saying hello.
"Come on," the man said, trying to pull Hank toward the car again.
But Hank didn't move.
He just stood there, looking at the two men like he didn't know what to do.
It was then that I noticed he was holding something in his hand.
It was a small, silver key, like the kind you use to open a padlock.
"Come on," the man said, pulling harder this time.
But still Hank didn't move.
"Go back to your bike, kid," the man said.
Before I could say anything else, Hank turned around and started walking away.
He crossed the street and walked up to a blue pickup truck that was parked in front of the hardware store next to the retirement home.
He opened the driver's side door, climbed inside, and drove off down the road, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.
The two men looked at each other for a second, then got back in their car and drove away too.
I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Then I picked up my bike and rode after Hank.
The sun was high in the sky by the time I found him again.
It was July in Texas, which meant it was hotter than hell outside.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was beating down on me so hard that I could feel my skin starting to burn through my T-shirt.
I rode around for a little while longer, but I didn't see anything interesting or anyone I knew.
I stopped in front of the library and locked up my bike, then went inside to get something cold to drink and cool off for a few minutes.
It was nice and cool in there, and it smelled like old books and paper.
My friend Sarah worked behind the front desk, so I walked up to her and asked her if she had any cans of soda in the back that I could buy from her.
Sarah had long brown hair that she always wore pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore glasses that made her look like a librarian even though she wasn't one.
She was a really nice person and she let me come in and read books whenever I wanted to, even though she wasn't supposed to do that because they were for adults only.
She smiled at me and went to get a can of soda from the break room.
"Thanks," I said when she came back.
Sarah opened the can and handed it to me.
"You're welcome," she said.
"Are you working on any new projects this summer, Tommy?"
I took a long drink of soda and wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand.
I was always working on some kind of project, but I never really finished any of them.
I got bored too easily and moved on to something else.
"I don't know," I said.
Sarah smiled and shook her head.
"Just let me know if you need any materials," she said.
I thanked her and went to sit down at one of the tables in the back, where I could read some of the books I'd picked out earlier.
When I opened my can of soda, I noticed that my hands were shaking a little bit.
I didn't know why, but I felt like something was about to happen, something big, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.
I was just about to start reading when I heard someone clear his throat behind me.
I turned around in my chair and saw Hank standing there, looking down at me with his arms crossed over his chest.
At first I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say.
I mean, here was this old man, a complete stranger, who had just walked up to me in the library and started staring at me.
Finally, after a few seconds of awkward silence, I asked him if he needed something.
Hank stared at me for a second longer, like he was trying to decide whether or not he should answer.
Then he said, "I thought I told you to go home and forget about this."
I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
Then it hit me.
I'd heard the rumors about Hank since the day he'd moved into the retirement home a few weeks earlier.
He was supposed to be this big, bad war hero who had done some terrible things in Vietnam and now he was crazy and trying to escape from the home all the time so he could get back on the road where he belonged.
The other kids in town used to tell stories about how they'd seen him leaving the home with all his bags packed and everything, only to be brought back by the police or the people who worked there.
They said that Hank was a mean old man who didn't like kids or anyone else for that matter, and that if you knew what was good for you, you'd stay as far away from him as possible.
But the stories didn't scare me.
They made me curious.
I didn't know why Hank was always trying to escape from the home, or where he thought he was going to go if he ever did manage to get away.
And I didn't know what had happened to him in Vietnam that had turned him into such a big, bad war hero.
I'd never met anyone like him before, and I wanted to know more.
So when Hank looked at me like he was expecting an answer, I smiled and said, "Forget about what?"
Hank studied me for a second longer and then shook his head.
"You're a stubborn little bastard," he said to himself.
"Come on," he said to me.
"Get up out of that chair and let's go."
He turned and started walking away before I could say anything else.
I sat there for a few seconds, my heart pounding in my chest, trying to decide what to do.
So I got up out of my chair and followed him
I found Hank standing by the road outside the home's entrance.
He was wearing an old pair of army fatigues and a faded black t-shirt that barely covered his belly.
His boots were even older than the rest of his clothes; they looked like they'd been worn for years but never cleaned or polished or even taken off.
They were the same kind of boots that the soldiers used to wear in Vietnam—the kind that laced all the way up to your knees—and they looked way too hot to be wearing on such a sweltering day.
But Hank didn't seem to mind.
He just stood there with his hands on his hips, staring out at the road and waiting for something to happen.
When he saw me coming, he turned and looked at me without saying anything.
Then he pointed at his head.
"I forgot my hat," he said.
"I left it on the hook in my room."
He was right; he wasn't wearing a hat.
Instead, he had a small towel wrapped around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes.
"It's too hot to go outside without a hat on," he said, like he was talking to himself again.
"I'll be dead before I ever find a ride if I don't have something to keep this sun off my head."
I watched him for a few seconds, trying to decide what he wanted me to do about it.
And then it hit me again: He needed me to go get his hat for him.
That's why he'd come into the library in the first place.
I felt my face flush red with embarrassment as I realized that I'd wasted so much time talking to him that I'd forgotten what he'd really come there for in the first place.
But it was too late for me to go back and change things now, so instead, I smiled and shook my head and said, "I'll go get it for you."
Hank's eyes grew wide with surprise when he heard me say that; he must have been expecting me to make fun of him or ignore him or something like that instead of being so nice to him right away.
And after a few seconds of awkward silence, during which time I thought maybe I should take back what I'd said and just go home, he finally nodded his head and said, "Go on then."
But you have to promise me you're not going to run off and leave me," he added quickly, like he was afraid that's exactly what I was going to do as soon as I got out of his sight.
"I'm not going to run off and leave you," I said, even though I hadn't even considered doing that in the first place.
"Go on then," Hank said again, this time with a small smile on his face.
"Get my hat for me."
