Outview (44 page)

“But you remember going to Shasta with
him?”

“Well, parts of it, anyway. He wasn’t with
me that final night. We did go together the first time. But, Nate, it was so
fantastic that until I saw Crowd just now, I wasn’t sure it was real. That’s
part of why I didn’t want to tell you anything about it because we might get
there and it would all just be trees on a mountain.”

We were flagged to a stop again just
outside the town of Yreka. There was some minor work being done ahead. Amazingly,
it was Crowd again.

“Yo, Ryders Deux,” he greeted us.

“You’re gonna get me sent back to the psych
ward if you keep doing stuff like this Crowd.”

“Well, we didn’t get to finish our talk so
I . . . you know they needed some work down here, too.”

“Hey, Crowd,” I began. “How do I thank you
for San Francisco?”

“No need, just doing my job.” He smiled
wide, but his eyes shone something else--sadness?

“Crowd, what’s up? Nate tells me you’re a
mystic. How come I never knew?” Dustin asked.

“Just depends where you are on the road,
know what I mean?”

Dustin shook his head.

“It’s good to see you finally decided to
get a job,” I joked.

He laughed hard. “Gonna save up for that
house above the boulevard, don’t you know?”

“So, since we’re seeing you again, you must
have more things to teach us?” I asked.

“Yeah, first we’ll start with fly fishing
and then rope climbing and then . . . ”

I gave him a look.

He started laughing. “Ain’t it obvious” I’m
the
guide.”

“I thought all the mystics were guides.”

“A common misconception. No, they’re just
ordinary mystics. I’m not only a mystic--and quite extraordinary, I must
say--but in addition, I’m
your
guide.”

“I only have one guide?”

“My goodness, you’re not getting this are
you? You have many guides, but they’re either not currently in the earthly
realm or if they are, you’ll have only fleeting encounters with them. I, on the
other hand, am quite available on an ongoing basis.”

“Is there a fee for this?”

He laughed hard. “A fee? You’re almost as
funny as Dusty, and you’re not even
on
anything, are you?”

“I’m not either,” Dustin broke in.
“Unfortunately.”

“So, are you a guide for both of us?”

“Sure am, I get a two-for. I’m very
efficient that way.”

“Can you
guide
me to other mystics?”

“Well, not specifically, but my job is to
help keep you on your path, so if meeting them is on your path, then yes.”

“Want a sandwich?” Dustin offered.

“Hey, is that a Pink Floyd? I love Pink
Floyds. Did you get it with extra pickles and extra lettuce?”

“You eat at the Station?”

“Well, their dumpster mostly.” He smiled,
shyly.

A state trooper came from the opposite
direction and slowed to look at us. I thought it was over, but he kept moving.

“You boys need to get to the mountain.”

“When can we talk?” I asked, as we started
rolling. “I need to know about finding other mystics.”

“Depends on traffic.” He laughed, waving
the flags dramatically like he was guiding a landing plane. “Maybe tomorrow.
But Nate, remember, time’s a funny thing.”

Mount Shasta is a stunning peak more than
14,000 feet above sea level, and although it’s part of the Cascade Range, it
isn’t connected to any other mountains. Instead, it rises dramatically 10,000
feet above the surrounding terrain and appears a majestic spirit. Every time it
came into view, I remembered what the naturalist John Muir said: “When I first
caught sight of it over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley, I was fifty
miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I
have not been weary since.” I had more than two hundred photos of Shasta taken
over the years, always a favorite subject.

The peak is actually composed of four
volcanic cones, home to several glaciers, snowcapped year-round, and shrouded
in mystery. The Old Man had told me there is a powerful portal on the summit,
but Dustin and I weren’t planning on that kind of trek. I knew the stories: the
region’s Native Americans believed the Great Spirit lived in Shasta, while other
tribes have talked of “little people” who dwell in the forest on Shasta; more
than a century ago, tales surfaced about descendants of survivors from the lost
continent of Lemuria, some even claimed proof it’s a landing base for
starships; there are books describing the higher-dimensional city of Telos,
located inside the dormant volcano; some give first-hand accounts of meeting
its inhabitants either within or on the mountain; and even more spoke of
Ascended Masters, subterranean tunnels, and even encounters with Bigfoot. Mount
Shasta is one of the most mythical places in the Western Hemisphere, and for
that reason, it attracts seekers, sages, and quacks.

We followed a trail for twenty or thirty
minutes before Dustin decided it was the right place to cut into the woods.
About ten minutes later, we found the naked tree and sure enough there was a
hawk perched on a branch about two thirds of the way up. It flew away as soon
as we approached. It was a long time before we came to the outcropping, and I
was worried we had gone too far until I saw Spencer sitting on the biggest
stone.

68

“Last time I saw you, you weren’t looking
so good.” Spencer smiled.

“Last time I saw you, I was angry. I’m
sorry about that.”

“It’s forgotten. I know this has been tough
on you.”

“Not the part where the prettiest girl in
school falls for him,” Dustin added.

“Dustin, this is one of Dad’s oldest
friends and a mystic, Spencer Copeland.”

“I remember you from Dad’s funeral. You
told me that the world may have lost a great man, but Dad was not really gone.
His spirit was still with us.”

Spencer nodded.

“I think you started me on the road to
insanity.”

“I didn’t know you were at the funeral,” I
said.

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“But Fitts was there, too. How did you
avoid him?”

“He didn’t know what I looked like.”

“Really? He’s been after you for years. How
could he not know what you looked like?”

“Simple. We’ve never met.”

“Fitts
is
dead, right?”

“Yes, in human terms, anyway.”

“Great,” I said with a sigh. Would there
ever be closure?

“How come you didn’t know Fitts was
actually my neighbor?”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t know everything.
I did pick up that Fitts was watching your house, on and off over the last few
weeks, but I had no idea he was living there, too.”

“When did you discover that?”

“Not until I was healing you on Trevor’s
boat. I read it in you.”

“How’d Crowd get Amber and me out at the
same time?”

“It’s called bilocating. He was in two
places at the same time.”

“Cool,” Dustin said.

“Where are the other mystics I’m supposed
to meet?”

“There are far more mystics than you think.
People walk among mystics during their normal lives and never know it. You’ve
met dozens, and they help you, but it’s not the same as actually being
instructed by them.”

“More to learn?”

“Unimaginable things. Even more remarkable
powers await you. Both of you can move toward your soul and--”

“Is it really possible to reach it and be
just that--no more human clutter?” Dustin interrupted.

“No one knows for sure, but I believe it
completely. And the closer you get, the more you’ll believe it, and the journey
is so . . . I don’t think a word exists that can adequately describe what it’s
like. It’s pure life; it’s everything. If you continue to look for the answers
to the great questions--why are we here, where did we come from, what is the
universe, how powerful is love--you will find things that even now you couldn’t
begin to dream of. Doesn’t that excite you?”

“It does, and as you once told me, I don’t
have a choice anyway.”

“I want to see it all,” Dustin added.

Spencer smiled. “Once you’re done here,
meet me at an island called
Cervantes,
and I’ll explain what’s next.”

“Where is it? How will we find it?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Do you live there?”

“No, I prefer more modest lodgings.”

“Then how will you know we’re there?”

He smiled modestly and cocked his head as
if it should be obvious by now.

“Thanks, Spencer.”

He extended his arm. We shook hands, and
our eyes spoke for a moment.

“It’s I who should thank you, Nate.”

“No.”

“I’ll see you another time.” He walked away
and, once the trees blocked our view, he did not reappear.

Crowd was gone. Spencer was gone. It was
just Dustin and me. All the hikes we’d done growing up together--with and
without our dad--came back, as our bond was like no other. And being among the
trees always left me at ease with a sense of peace.

“Do you hear that?” I asked.

“What?”

“It sounds like a helicopter.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

We weren’t far from a clearing; I moved
toward it, Dustin followed. “I hear it now,” he said. “Definitely a
helicopter.”

We stayed in the trees and looked through
the opening toward the sky. A minute later there was a black military chopper
flying just above the treetops. It made several passes, but we were convinced
they couldn’t see us.

“Maybe we should bail?” I said to Dustin.

“And go where?”

Minutes later, it was hovering a few
thousand feet behind us.

“They’re looking for us,” I yelled to
Dustin.

“We’re almost there.”

“Here!” I shouted, as I saw the lush patch
of greenery surrounding the tiny spring.

“Okay, we’re close.”

The chopper was loud and my temperature was
rising. Six soldiers slid down ropes into the woods.

“Dustin, look!” I was terrified.

He glanced back, only for a second.

“They’re here for us. We’ve gotta run,” I
screamed.

Dustin was too busy searching for whatever
he was looking for to run. Although we were moving away from them and still
seemed hidden, if we didn’t increase our pace, the soldiers would have us in
minutes. They obviously had some way to track me because they knew we were on
the mountain and had narrowed their search from the 2.2 million acres of
wilderness to a half-mile radius. I thought with Fitts gone, Lightyear would
disappear. Was running going to be my life?

“Dustin, we have to hide somewhere.” They
now blamed me for the death of an agent, and that was added to the long list of
other reasons to eliminate me. Kyle was right. They would never run out of
agents. There weren’t enough places to hide. How long could I run? I needed a
plan. Strategy, Old Man would call it.

Soldiers were getting closer. The heat was
suffocating.

Was there any way I could beat Lightyear?
If I didn’t find a way, I would die, probably soon. Then, I remembered
something someone said: to defeat darkness you must expose it to the light. I
would have to find a way to expose Lightyear.

“This is it! Are you ready?” Dustin
suddenly yelled.

“This is where you’ve been wanting to get
back to? This is what you almost died trying to reach that night? You got
locked in an asylum to get to this spot in the woods?” I screamed.

“It’s not just a spot in the woods.” I
could barely hear his words.

“That’s what it looks like to me.” I gazed
around. It was like the rest of the forest, pretty but nothing extraordinary. A
second chopper approached. “We’re dead.”

“Are you ready?” he repeated. Something in
his look made me feel as if we were about to do something remarkable, like
ancient explorers sailing into the unknown, off the edge of the world, Yuri
Gagarin hurtling into space in 1961. But we were just two teenagers in the
middle of a pine forest on Mount Shasta.

I could see soldiers through the trees;
they hadn’t spotted us but were within a few hundred feet now. The helicopters
were thunderous, leaves whipped from the giant blades.

“Yes. I’m ready,” I shouted.

He reached his arms high above his head.
For a moment, his hands appeared to be grasping for something, almost swimming
in slow motion through the air. There was nothing I could see. Then he smiled.
His arms moved apart and with them the air separated like a curtain. He held
the invisible veil open, and inside I saw an entirely different scene than the
trees and shrubs surrounding us. Through that seam was not an ordinary portal like
the other two I’d been in, which were merely passages. This was another place all
its own, some undiscovered realm, a channel into a secret world. I looked at
Dustin questioningly.