THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge (2 page)

Jason cocked his head towards the truck on the bridge and asked, “Who’s in the truck?”

“My wife, Tarra, and my twin girls, Kyla and Katrina.  Oh, and our dog, Pharaoh.  A very well-behaved and friendly German shepherd.”

“Well, Stephen,” Jason began, “I’d like to say that you’re welcome to stay with us, but the decision is not mine alone. You’re going to need to see The Oracle.”

“The Oracle?” Fish and Stephen said almost simultaneously and looked at each other.  Jason grinned at them in anticipation, but Fish and Stephen just stood there, stupefied.

“I guess you guys aren’t
Matrix
fans,” Jason sighed, disappointed.

“Duh!  Of course we are!”  Fish blurted out in realization, “The Oracle!”

“Well, I was just kidding about the oracle thing.  But seriously, The Park leaders hold a meeting every day at three o’clock in the afternoon.  You and your family will be invited to speak on your behalf.  Until then, drive to site number 62 and wait there.  Do not leave the site for any reason, except to use the bathrooms, which are adjacent to the site.”

“I hope that’s not our permanent site!” Fish exclaimed.  “That site sucks, there’s no privacy there and it has a stupid parking area right next to it for people to use the showers and the bathrooms.”

“Ah, so you’re already familiar with The Park?” Jason asked.

Stephen replied confidently, “Very familiar.”

Chapter 2

Stephen drove to the main entrance of Deception Pass State Park.  Jason had informed him that one of his men would radio ahead to notify the gatekeepers of their arrival.  Even with that said, he gave them the password of “42-42” to use at the entrance. 

Several armed men comprised the watch at the swinging gate that led into The Park.  As expected, they requested the password and Stephen provided it successfully.  “
This is good, these guys are on point.  Looks like we’ll be safe in here”,
Stephen thought to himself before driving toward the campground.

One of the gatekeepers had nudged another, then pointed at Fish in the back of the truck and said, “Hey, that’s the Safeway guy!”  Both of them had waved at Fish, and of course, he embraced his new fame with gusto and exuberantly waved right back to them. 

Tarra rolled her eyes and said to Stephen, “He’s never going to get tired of that, is he?”

“Nope,” Stephen laughed, shaking his head.

Katrina asked from the back seat, “Why does everybody like Uncle Fish?”

“Because Uncle Fish and your daddy did some very brave things that provided these people with food to eat,” Tarra answered.

“Oh,” Katrina said. “But…why don’t they like daddy then?”

Stephen frowned and muttered, “They do, but your Uncle Fish is more of a character than I am.”

“Oh.  What’s a character?” she continued to ask.

Tarra laughed and then quickly replied for Stephen, “A character is somebody who is very interesting and easily recognizable.  Like a TV actor.” Then she mentioned quietly to her husband, “That was the nicest way I could put it.”

“I know,” Stephen chuckled in agreement.

Fish poked his face into the truck and asked, “Are you guys talking about me in here?”  Then he reached in and tickled each of the Kays’ ribs.  They squealed with delight and playfully attempted to push his arm away.  Pharaoh became nervous at the girls’ screams and pushed his way between them and Fish’s arm.  Fish rubbed the dog’s neck and said, “Good boy, you keep on watching after these girls.  Good job.”

On the way to the campground, they passed by Cranberry Lake.  A small freshwater lake that bordered the south and southwest portion of The Park.  Most of the land around the lake was heavily forested, and nearly impossible to reach by foot.  Stephen had noticed many fishermen and women along the road where the lake was actually easily accessible.  Some of them tossed a friendly wave at the truck, most did not.  They appeared very serious, and for good reason.  A bad day at the lake could very easily have meant no supper that evening.  The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife stocked the lake every year with catchable sized rainbow trout.  In addition to the trout, panfish such as bluegill and sunfish populated the lake (although they never really got very big).  Stephen also noticed people fishing from rowboats, pedal-boats and canoes scattered throughout the lake as well.  The watercraft looked familiar.  They were the same boats that were rented out for day-use by the Washington State Park system.  There were typically a half dozen of each type available on a first-come, first-served basis.  During the summer, a person would need to arrive quite early in the morning to get one.  They went very quickly!

The ocean water of the Puget Sound bordered The Park from the west beach all the way north to the bridge at Deception Pass.  Only a parking lot and a causeway along the west beach separated the freshwater Cranberry Lake from the saltwater of the Puget Sound.

Fish and the Alexanders were pleasantly surprised to notice that the campground was still clean and organized.  About one-quarter to one-third of the campsites in The Park appeared to be occupied, which was actually quite a lot for that time of the year.  Things normally didn’t pick up until Memorial Day, at which time you might need to sell your soul to the devil to get a decent campsite (or a campsite at all).  Stephen knew that the campground boasted around 360 sites, so that meant that there might have been a hundred or so families in residence.  “
Geezus, that’s a lot of fricken mouths to feed
,” he thought.  

Once they were deeper inside the campground, the heavy smell of burning enveloped the truck’s occupants.  Smoke.  Different types of smoke as they passed site after site.  Some smelled like trash, others like food on the grill, and a few had no distinct smell at all other than regular firewood.  Everyone was burning.  Fire was their cooktop, garbage disposal and heating unit all wrapped up in one.  Stephen wondered where all the firewood was coming from, until they passed a small group of young adult and teenage boys in the process of felling a slender pine tree.  Tarra (the environmentalist) had gasped when she first noticed what they were doing.  Normally, that type of activity would be highly illegal inside a Washington State Park! 

Some of the boys around the tree were milling about, holding hand saws, waiting for their buddies to knock the tree down so they could get to work on it.  Pine boughs, bark and sawdust covered the entire area and Stephen noticed three other freshly cut stumps in the vicinity.  A small paved driveway to the campsite adjacent to where the boys were cutting was loaded with a disorganized pile of pine rounds.  A middle-aged man and a young girl, presumably his daughter, were picking through the boys’ pile of wood and tossing their favorite pieces aside for themselves.  Stephen hoped that those boys were not indiscriminate with their choice of trees to harvest.  He felt as though someone needed to be in charge of that.

The weary travelers reached site 62 and parked the truck.  They were all extremely tired because they had stayed awake all night packing up the truck (and securing their soon-to-be deserted home as best they could).  None of them had slept, not even the Kays.  It was almost eleven AM.  The sky was covered in clouds, but they weren’t the dark, stormy kind.  It was just a solid, thin blanket of grayish-white that allowed the outline of the mid-day sun to poke through.

Tarra let Pharaoh out of the truck and instructed the Kays to lay down in the back seat to get some rest.  Fish strolled over to the pine needle covered picnic table at the site and laid down on the table top with a huge sigh.  He was exhausted, but confident that The Park leaders would let them stay. 

Stephen was also tired, but took a moment to take in his surroundings.  He had camped there with his family many times before and knew The Park quite well.  Stephen knew that Fish was equally familiar with The Park, if not even more so, since he used to take the Kays on tons of hikes throughout the miles of trails around the Deception Pass area.  Fish would take the girls hiking and exploring so that Tarra and Stephen could have some “alone time” at the campsite….and they had appreciated Fish’s efforts tremendously :) 

Those were different times.  Different times, indeed.  Now, camping was a means of survival and no longer just for fun.

*****

Hours had passed.  “I have to go potty!” one of the Kays whined from the truck.  Their voices were freakishly indistinguishable.  It could have been either of the two.

“Me too!” cried the other one.  It was 2:28 PM according to Stephen’s wristwatch.  They still had about a half hour until the meeting with The Park leadership.  Stephen briefly thought about daylight saving time. 
What day was it supposed to happen this year?
  He had forgotten.  Did it even matter anymore?

Tarra and Stephen had been sitting on the bench of the picnic table as Fish snored behind them.  Tarra asked, “Do you want to take them to the potty?”

“Nope,” Stephen replied. “I can’t go into the women’s bathroom, I might get shot or something!”

“Hmm.  Likely excuse, fool,” Tarra muttered playfully as she stood up and stretched.  She waved an arm and said, “C’mon girls, let’s go.”

Pharaoh had sensed activity and volunteered to accompany the squad of females to the bathrooms, which weren’t far from site 62.  It was only a short walk across a treeless, grassy parcel of campground.  Stephen called Pharaoh back to the picnic table, for he wasn’t sure what type of rules The Park leadership had established regarding pets walking leashless around the campground.  He just wanted to be on the safe side.

Tarra and the girls strolled across the short, moist grass.  Upon reaching the other side of the facility where the entrances of the bathrooms were located, Tarra was startled to see a teenage boy sitting in a folding camp chair on the sidewalk between the men’s and women’s doors.  The kid had four randomly colored buckets of water on the ground next to him, two along each side of his chair.  He was reading a paperback novel, but Tarra could not discern which title it was because he had the pages flipped over most of the cover.  The young man had a disgruntled air about him as the three females approached.

“Poop or pee?” the kid asked in a bored voice.  Tarra was taken aback, but the Kays thought it was funny and giggled.

“I beg your pardon, young man?” Tarra questioned. “What business of that is yours?”

The teenager rolled his eyes with exasperation and replied, “It’s my business, lady, because if you’re gonna poop; you’re gonna need one of these.”  He reached down and lifted one of the buckets a few inches off the concrete and then set it back down, as if Tarra was the dumbest woman he had ever met.

“Oh, my apologies,” Tarra said, somewhat embarrassingly. “We’re new to all this.” 

The kid just stared at them, saying nothing as he awaited their reply.

Katrina suddenly raised her hand and shouted excitedly at the teenage boy, “I have to go poop!”

Kyla laughed at her sister and pushed her shoulder, “Ha-ha, you have to take a bucket!”

After a few minutes the ladies finished their business in the bathroom and returned the empty bucket to the young man in the camp chair.  The teenager had glared at Katrina as she cheerfully set it down on the ground in front of him and told him, “Thank you.” 

Once the potty party started to walk away, without saying a word the kid angrily snatched the empty bucket up off the ground and disappeared into the forest along one of the trails that connected separate portions of the campground.  Tarra assumed that he was off to get it refilled at one of the manually operated water pump stations in The Park.

Back at site 62, Tarra said to Stephen, “That was weird, there was a kid handing out buckets of water by the bathrooms.  ‘Poop or pee’ he was asking.”

“Interesting,” Stephen replied thoughtfully. “Do you think he was doing that for convenience or rationing purposes?”

“Not sure.  I don’t think that he wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of his heart, though.”  Tarra answered.  She was staring at the still-snoring Fish on the picnic table.  Stephen knew that her brain was in the process of conjuring up the most obnoxious way possible to wake him up.

Stephen intervened and said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh yeah?  And why not?” Tarra grinned.

“Because he’s still wearing a pistol under his jacket.”

“Ah, good point,” Tarra laughed, and abandoned the thought.

*****

At precisely ten after three o’clock, an escort arrived at site 62.  A teenage girl a couple years older than the “poop or pee” guy.  Even without makeup and with her brown hair in a hasty pony-tail, the young woman was very attractive.  She introduced herself as Meghan and invited Fish and the Alexanders to follow her to the leadership meeting, which was held at a different location each day.  Before departing, Stephen helped Pharaoh climb into the tall truck and closed the door.  Meghan had eyed the dog suspiciously when she first arrived at the site, and Stephen didn’t want to take any chances on losing his opportunity for refuge in The Park.  For some reason, the Charlie Brown song
“No dogs allowed…”
echoed in Stephen’s head from his childhood.

As everyone nervously walked with Meghan, Fish rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as one of the Kays broke the silence and curiously asked the pretty escort, “Do you like camping?”

“It’s okay, I guess.  Kinda boring after a while, though,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “I miss having my phone, too.”

Tarra laughed and added, “Me too, Meghan.  Me too.”

The group marched from the Forest Loop section of the campground (where site 62 was located) to Lower Loop.  Lower Loop ran parallel to the road that skirted Cranberry Lake, just like Forest Loop did, but Lower Loop was further west and much closer to the Puget Sound.

Meghan led the extended family to site 137.  Several men and women were sitting at the site’s large picnic table and others in folding camp chairs around a medium-sized fire blazing away in the rusty steel ring at the center of the site. 

Stephen swallowed hot saliva as they approached the gathering.  His throat was dry, he was concerned about the future of his family.  He intended on making the strongest case possible beneficial to their cause.  He had spotted Jason Oxnard sitting amongst the group near the fire, and that gave him a smidgeon of relief.  Fish appeared nonetheless worried whatsoever, and walked ahead of the group anticipating another hero’s welcome from The Park leadership at site 137.  He did not receive one, however.

“Thank you, Meghan,” an athletically slender man in his early fifties said.  He wasn’t sitting like everyone else, but was standing in the middle of the gathering.  Stephen immediately pegged him as one of the heads of The Park leadership.  He had a charismatic aura about him.