Essential Beginnings
Surviving Ashes, Book One
Kennedy Layne
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ESSENTIAL BEGINNINGS
Copyright © 2015 by Kennedy Layne
Kindle Edition
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-943420-00-1
Print ISBN: 978-1-943420-03-2
Cover Design: Charity Hendry
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Jeffrey—you are my essential beginning. Thank you for being by my side on this journey.
Sylvie Fox—for helping a fellow author out in the research department when I was in need of some expert advice that I couldn’t find on the Internet.
Dr. Matthew A. d’Alessio—for taking the time to answer questions regarding volcanoes and earthquakes. Any mistakes or liberties taken pertaining to these subjects are solely on my part.
“A
year seems
to pass by quicker the older I get.”
Maverick Becket took a drink of his strong black coffee before setting the heavy ceramic mug back down beside his freshly cleaned plate. He gathered up his utensils and placed them on the dish, raking his mouth with his napkin one last time before dropping it center mass. The older leatherneck sitting across from him was right. Time didn’t used to get ahead of a person back in the early days when they were in the Corps. It used to be time stood still and you were lucky if it started back up again while they waited to rotate back to the world from some godforsaken shithole halfway around the world. The truth of the matter was that everything had changed. They had no choice but to accept the fact that they were aging faster than they wanted to. Keeping up with the younger troopers tended to get harder with each passing year. One couldn’t wage a war against the wear and tear the Corps, and now his employment with the state police, had put upon his body. The life of service was thankless. Mav relaxed back against the smooth red vinyl of the diner’s booth, not ready to leave the sanctuary of this quiet diner quite yet. The fact was that he was more comfortable here in Lost Summit than he was back home in Illinois anyway. Each year his trip back to this remote small town made it more like coming home.
“That it does,” Mav replied in agreement, studying the man who was more like a father to him than the one who had barely claimed those rights. His biological father had passed away long ago and Mav had little remorse for his death. Master Gunnery Sergeant Ernie “Tank” Yates had stepped into those shoes whether he’d intended to or not. “Which just means that Mabel is not going to wait around forever, you old Devildog. Don’t think for a second that we all missed noticing that Stanley Ratliff was paying extra attention to her at Friday’s fish fry.”
Tank was now over sixty years old and had no trouble keeping up with the six younger former Marines who’d been under his command twelve years ago. His blue eyes sparkled with life, standing out even more so due to his silver hair. The weathered wrinkles around his eyes were more from hard won laughter than age, but he could be a tough son of a bitch if the situation warranted it. What he needed was a woman by his side that softened his harder edges while enjoying the rural country life he’d managed to carve out for himself here in Lost Summit, Washington.
“You know I’m right,” Mav insisted with a smile, liking to rile up the old man every once in awhile. Too bad the guys weren’t here to join in. “Rat might as well have been up her skirt the other day at the church kitchen. We supply the beer battered fish and he makes a play for your gal while you fry them up.”
Ernie raised a bushy eyebrow and thinned his lips. Not even his grey mustache could hide his contempt for Stanley. The ongoing feud between the two men was becoming legendary. Rat had taken a personal affront when Ernie had moved to the northernmost part of Washington nine years ago to open Lost Mountain Lodge, a small fishing and game resort made up of a dozen log cabins surrounding a sprawling main lodge. The lodge consisted of ten smaller private accommodations, a great hall, a commercial kitchen with a dining room, not to mention a well-stocked taproom and bar. Rat considered Ernie to be competition for his bait shop and family campground located southeast of town near the Pine Peak Silver Mine. They were two separate businesses and yet Rat couldn’t seem to stem his animosity. It wasn’t a contest, but Ernie had stood by and let the man talk shit to anyone who would listen, which only added fuel to the fire.
“Mabel is smarter than to fall for a common fool like Ratliff,” Ernie exclaimed gruffly, sliding a look over to where the woman in question was refilling coffee cups for a couple of older men at the counter. She was the owner and operator of Summit Diner, the only café in town that served breakfast, lunch, and dinner—zero six hundred to nineteen thirty hours every day but Sunday. She’d lost her husband years ago and Ernie was taking his sweet time in courting her, regardless that she’d been giving hints to him for some time now. It was tough to imagine that the hardened, crusty old man who’d once been a tank commander in the Marines when they rode M60s would be uneasy at the thought of asking a beautiful woman out to dinner. “And you’re one to talk, son. I’ll be in the grave by the time you and Henley decide to actually do something other than argue about the sky being blue.”
Mav was wise enough not to rise to Ernie’s bait, and now he was the one grateful his buddies weren’t present. Henley Varano wasn’t a subject he was ready to discuss. She’d left her small hometown for the fame and fortune that Hollywood offered, only to show back up out of the blue a few years ago and ask Ernie if he needed a manager for the lodge. The old coot wasn’t one to turn down a pretty lady in need and she’d settled into the administrator role as natural as could be, thus freeing Ernie to focus on being a fishing and small game guide for those city folk that needed one. That was all well and good with the exception that Henley wasn’t as gracious in her dealings with Mav as she was with the other guys—and those jarheads sure liked to rub it in his face at every opportunity.
Berke Daniels, Owen Quade, Mason Sykes, and Van Overton were his four fellow former Marines who were missing from this breakfast. They used to be his brothers in arms, the men who had his six during their numerous combat tours together, and now they were lifelong friends who met up once a year at Ernie’s lodge to drink too much beer and drown the latest lures Ernie had uncovered from local Native American lore. All four of them had left early yesterday while Mav had stayed behind for one more day. He’d like to leave town with his ego somewhat intact, so he reached for his wallet only to have Ernie already laying down a twenty-dollar bill that would more than cover the cost of their breakfast plus a healthy tip.
“That’s what I thought,” Ernie said wryly with a trace of humor lacing his words when Mav wouldn’t engage. He ignored Ernie as he reached for his cheap dollar store shades and keys. It was time he hit the road back home, if that’s what he could call it. Low murmuring arose from the men at the counter, along with what sounded like a cry of alarm from Mabel. It was that high resonance that had Ernie standing first to see what the problem was. “Mabel?”
“Ernie, look,” Mabel directed with a finger, her voice shaking in what Mav could only describe as apprehension. He unfolded his large frame from the booth and joined Ernie at the counter, where everyone had their eyes glued to the ancient standard resolution tube television that hung from the ceiling in the corner. The thing was as big as an ice chest and four times as heavy. “I need to call Derek.”
Derek was Mabel’s son who was currently living in Wyoming. While Mabel grabbed the cordless phone that was always positioned near the cash register, Mav focused on what the newscaster was saying and the words sliding across the bottom of the screen. The picture quality was so poor that you had to concentrate to make out the words.
6.1 Earthquake at Yellowstone National Park.
“Turn it up,” Elijah Burch said from his usual spot at the counter. The eighty-two year old gentleman was a fixture at Summit Diner and was known for telling tall stories about his time at Pine Creek Silver Mine until it was played out some forty years back. He was born here and he would die here in all likelihood, just as he’d always intended. “I didn’t put in my hearing aids this morning.”
Ernie was the closest to where Mabel had set down the clunky worn remote, so he picked it up and pressed the button repeatedly until the newscaster’s booming voice echoed throughout the diner. By this time everyone had stopped eating and had made their way over to stand behind the men at the counter to hear firsthand what was happening.
“…animals leaving Yellowstone National Park in herds. It’s unprecedented the numbers that have been caught on video in this mass exodus. We also have footage from our affiliate station KBZK out of Bozeman, Montana of a massive crevice that has formed inside the park as a result of the earlier earthquake. With us right now is seismologist Julie Cramer. Julie, can you explain to our listening audience what is taking place at Yellowstone and what the odds are of this being the start of a catastrophic event or if this is just another in a long line of earthquakes near the park?”
Mav took a couple steps back and leaned against the table, crossing his arms and settling in to hear exactly why this was bigger news than the fact a certain Middle Eastern country had seized a United States flagged cargo ship in the Strait of Hormuz. He’d yet to see the follow-up story to that breaking news featured at zero five hundred, but he’d bet his left nut that the Pentagon had already deployed a destroyer or frigate to that area out of the 5th Fleet in Bahrain. Ask anyone who has lived in California…a six point one earthquake was nothing more than the rattling of dishes and setting off everyone’s car alarms. They didn’t even delay school for a six point one on the Richter scale.
