Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

Instead, I weigh my two options: First, I could rot here and die, pouting about how miserable my situation is. The second option – which isn’t much better – is to grab what I can and start making my way to the nearest town.

During normal circumstances the latter option is a no-brainer, but at this point I’m strongly considering lying here and dying. There’s a small chance – somewhere very near zero percent — that someone might come along to rescue me. I’m sure I have enough food and water to last me a few days until then.

The thought of leaving the car and walking for miles and miles is something I have no interest in doing; I’ve never had less desire to live. If I had a real gun, I could end it all with one pull of the trigger — a very tempting proposition. I only have a pellet gun though, and I’m not sure what would happen if I held it up to my head and pulled the trigger. Would it be powerful enough to kill me? The only thing worse than dying is dying a slow and miserable death with a few pellets lodged in your head.

I don’t know what makes me think about it, but I pull out my wallet. Inside one of the credit card slots is a picture Abby gave me of herself back when we were first dating. After all these years, I’ve never had a reason to take it out. I rarely look at it – only when I’m changing or re-organizing my wallet. Now, though, I’ve never had a more useful reason to keep the picture. It looks like it’s been through hell. The edges are worn out and it’s wrinkled from being sat on for ten years, but I can still see her perfect face in the middle, virtually undamaged.

She was so beautiful back then, and even more beautiful today. I turn it over and am surprised to see a message written on the back. Has this always been here?

Andrew, Wow how can I begin? These past 6 months have been the best of my life. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Sure, we’ve had some down moments, but it’s been totally worth it. I have so much fun when I’m with you. I’ve had some crazy boyfriends in the past, and it’s nice to finally have a kind, sweet and funny guy like you. I hope the next six months are even better than the first. Love, Abby

Seeing her handwriting, I can’t help but get emotional. Knowing that Abby’s small, soft hand wrote this many years ago makes me cry.

I re-read the note again, paying particular attention to “ we’ve had some down moments, but it’s been totally worth it. ” I try to remember what those might have been. As young kids in college, petty problems seemed so much more important than they really were. I know we had our arguments and we did have some tough times, but it’s been so many years since then I can’t remember what any of those fights were even about. All I know is, before all this happened, Abby and I have never been better. I’ve never loved her more and I believe she would say the same.

Seeing this note rejuvenates my will to live. I have to see Abby at least one more time so I can tell her how passionately in love I am with her.

Looking at my car, I don’t know where to begin. There’s an intense smell of gas from the twenty or more gallons that likely poured out everywhere in the trunk. I think it’s a miracle the car didn’t blow up, but it seems like a ticking time bomb with the engine still hot. I better get everything out while I can.

I go in the backseat, which looks very unusual with the seats on top. As fast as I can and without moving my side too much, I take the jumbled mess and throw it out onto the ground. All of my clothes are soaking wet from the spilled water bottles, and there’s also peanut butter and jelly scattered everywhere on my clothes. I can deal with the stains on my shirts, but I’m more concerned with my food supply being so scarce.

A few of the cereal boxes managed to break themselves open, but most are intact. At least I have enough cereal to last me awhile.

My biggest concerns are water and how I’m going to travel with it. I have a suitcase in the trunk but there’s no way for me to get to it because of how the car’s damaged. I think I’m all out of options until I see the ax sitting in the front seat. That’s the only way I’ll be able to get into the trunk — brute force.

Before I start smashing, I get everything out of the front seat. I’m about halfway finished when I see something that makes my heart sink. It’s my gun, but only half of it. Somehow, the crash managed to break the gun into at least two pieces. What an amazingly cheap and worthless pellet gun this turned out to be.

I get my ax and am moments away from striking the trunk when I remember the gas tanks are inside. Any spark could set it off. I’m not sure how big of an explosion that would cause, but my guess is I wouldn’t live to tell about it. It’s not worth the risk and I probably wouldn’t be able to ax my way into the trunk anyway, so I give up before I even start.

Looking at the huge pile of stuff on the ground, I decide on the essential things to take. My ax is a given. I figure I can put a couple bottles of water in each pocket, so that’s four bottles. I also decide I can wear multiple layers of clothing for warmth. I hope I won’t have to sleep outside tonight, but I’ve learned to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. It’s warm now but I’m sure nighttime will be chilly. It’s better to have too many layers than not enough, so I put a couple warm sweaters over me.

I don’t have a good place to put cereal boxes, so I’m going to have to carry those by hand. I couldn’t be sicker of cereal but I have no other choice.

My setup is complete: a pair of jeans with four bottles of water stuffed in the pockets, four layers of shirts and sweaters, an ax stuffed in my jeans so I don’t have to hold it, two boxes of cereal stuffed under each arm, and two more bottles of water in each hand.

This is the best my engineering mind can come up with.

I pay my last respects to my car as if it were an open casket at a funeral. I’ve had some great memories in this car with Abby; it has taken us many great places. I was hoping it would take me to Mobile, but my moment of stupidity prevented that. I touch the car one last time with my hand and set off on my new journey without it.

As I start walking, the smell of my breath reminds me I’ve been drinking. Was it the alcohol or taking my eyes off the road that was most at fault for the crash? Probably the combination of both.

My main concern now is which way I should go. I try to think how far back it is to the last town I saw but can’t remember. This answers my question; I’m better off risking unknown territory than backtracking several miles where I know there’s nothing.

I walk to the highway and am amazed by how slow I’m going. I’d be far out of sight now if I was in Abby’s car, but I see a bend in the road ahead and calculate it might take an hour before I get there. If only I were a marathoner, but how someone can run 26.2 miles I’ll never know.

I should be conservative with my food and water, but my extreme thirst demands I drink some water now. Maybe it’s the alcohol that dehydrated me, or maybe it’s because I have four layers of clothes on with the mild sun beaming down on me. Either way, I chug an entire bottle of water leaving me only five bottles total left.

I may regret this later but for now I’m satisfied. It’s also nice to have one hand free.

It’s only twenty minutes later when I start getting hungry. I check my phone and see it’s one thirty. No wonder I’m hungry, I usually eat two hours before this. Looking at my phone makes me realize I forgot to bring the charger. Once the battery dies, I’ll have no way of telling the time. My phone charger only works in the car, so I didn’t bother bringing it, but I wish I had it nevertheless.