He was lost for but a short while, alone in the camp where no one lived in fifty years. Though, that is not to say there wasn’t anyone there, just no one alive. So, when they found him, a man gliding down a rope ladder suspended from a rescue helicopter, they didn’t want to touch ground for fear they would be stuck there forever. It was a rational fear that had been proven time after time since then, until now. And truth be told, there was no belief held that the man lost, for but a small amount of time, would leave his open prison for the safety of the air.
But he latched his arm around the last rung and smiled to his rescuer, genuine appreciation at the effort they put into his liberation. The helicopter elevated away, shaking dust and awakening silver ghosts, resting in their death, rocking their chairs. They growled a forgotten language bitter that they missed a meal, cursing their own weakness for the sleepy shadows, where they mimic the black with shut eyes and heavy heads. So, after the thwup, thwup, thwup of the blades has vanished, they retreat from the air until again comes around.