THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge

by Frank Kaminski

  Stephen crossed from Lower Loop into Forest Loop, and came across the group of teenage boys with hand saws. It was Stephen’s woodcutting team, hard at work. They were in a different location from the day before. One tree was already on the ground, and a boy was in the process of cutting down another as his buddies stripped the branches and sawed apart the fallen one.

  “Hey guys, hold up a second,” Stephen said with a friendly tone. All of the boys stopped what they were doing and turned toward Stephen.

  “Yeah? What’s up?” one of the older boys asked, as if Stephen was interrupting something extremely important.

  “My name is Stephen Alexander, and I’ve been assigned by Claudine and William as your new resource manager.”

  The boys looked at each other, some looked confused, and some looked either happy or relieved. Stephen continued, “You guys have been doing a great job so far, but as of today, I’m going to make your job both easier and harder at the same time.”

  Stephen knew that as young men, all of their minds were probably focused on the “harder” portion of Stephen’s announcement, so he added with a smile, “Mostly easier, though.”

  *****

  Tarra woke up the girls and got them ready for the day as Fish continued to sleep. He had hastily set up his little two-man tent the night before in an area that would soon become a sun patch. Tarra laughed as she thought about him angrily trying to sleep in the impending brightness. She needed to wake him up and tell him about the gunshots they had heard earlier in the morning.

  Tarra unzipped his tent door just enough to be able to reach in and shake his feet. She said, “Fish, honey, wake up for a second.”

  “Wha-? Dude, what?” he said, groggily.

  “Stephen and I just wanted to let you know that we heard gunshots earlier this morning, and he was pretty confident that they had come from the beach.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Gunshots. Got it. Close the door, please,” Fish replied to her and rolled onto his side, flipping his sleeping bag over his head to block out the morning sunlight. Tarra chuckled and zipped him back up.

  The Kays were excited to go with their mommy on an “adventure” that day, and tugged at her jacket. After all, the children had been cooped up inside their home on Swantown Road for weeks up until the day before. Tarra thought that it was nice to finally get them out and about. She was, however, a bit worried about what the resident nurse might have to say about her bringing the children with her to work. But, was it really work, though? It’s not like it was a real job with a paycheck and social security deductions. It was just a means to “earn their keep”, as Stephen had described it.

  Before departing on the journey, Tarra briefly considered bringing her shotgun. She felt comfortable with it, but would others? What could happen during the day that she would need it? She was supposed to be a medical assistant, not a security guard. After a quick debate with herself, Tarra decided that she, just like her husband, did not wish to intimidate the other residents. She left the gun next to Stephen’s M-4 in the back of Fish’s truck, locked the door, and tossed the keys next to the snoring Fish in his tent.

  Tarra and her girls left site 199 in Lower Loop and headed toward Forest Loop. It would be somewhat of a long walk. Carrie’s nursing station was set up at site 72, which was just about as dead center in the campground as it could get, considering the distance between the northwestern corner of Lower Loop and the southeastern edge of Quarry Pond.

  Fish and the Alexanders had chosen site 199 because they had camped at that site in the past. Tarra remembered that it had been somewhat noisy at times due to the pedestrian traffic, but that was to be expected. Site 199 was located smack dab next to a trailhead that led to one of the main trails in the Deception Pass area trail system. Using the trail, they could cut across the woods and hike to Cranberry Lake or the Puget Sound within minutes, instead of walking all the way through Lower Loop and then backtracking along the road that skirted Cranberry Lake. It would be ultra-convenient for both Stephen and Fish to get to their jobs in The Park. A long walk for Tarra, but a short one for the boys.

  As Tarra and the Kays reached the first fork in the road at Forest Loop, she spotted Stephen in the distance. He was with the same teenage woodcutters they had drove past the day before. She could see that they were loading fresh cut wood into a small flatbed trailer. Were they moving it? Tarra remembered Stephen’s plan to set up two wood stations in The Park, and he must have caught those guys in the process of knocking down some trees.

  Tarra pointed at her sweaty husband in the distance and said to the Kays, “Look, there’s daddy.”

  “Can we go over there, mommy?” asked Katrina.

  “No, sweet pea, we can’t. He’s really busy right now. Besides, we need to go left here instead of right,” Tarra answered, pointing at the fork in the road.

  “Awwww,” the Kays both whined, simultaneously.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll see daddy for lunch in a few hours, okay?” Tarra consoled as they marched forward.

  *****

  “You’re pretty cool, Mr. A,” the oldest of the boys said to Stephen. The teenager’s name was Prince. Yes, it was Prince, as in, Pur-ple Rain…Purple Rain.

  “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Stephen asked Prince as he dropped another armload of pine rounds into the little trailer that they had borrowed.

  “Because Larry never helped us with this kind of stuff. He just bossed us around all the time.”

  Another boy, named Craig (the other boys had kept calling him “Craigger” all morning), had added, “Yeah, he got angry super easy, too. He yelled at us a lot.”

  “Is that right?” Stephen asked. He noted the rusty and bent handsaw that Craigger had been using. He then continued with, “I’m going to look into getting you guys some better tools.”

  “Sweet!” Prince cheered.

  “You gentlemen have one of the most important jobs in this park. Everyone needs wood. If you weren’t providing it for the residents, they’d take the matter into their own hands and knock down every single tree near their campsites. People could get hurt.”

  Another boy sadly said, “Larry never told us that.” The kid had looked at Prince when he made the Larry comment, and Prince nodded in agreement.

  Stephen knocked the bark and sawdust off his jacket with his hands, and then said, “I’d love to hang out with you fellas all morning, but I need to get going. Once you guys get this wood over to the place I showed you, take a break. I’ll catch up with you again in about an hour or so.”

  The boys all acknowledged Stephen’s orders, and then he left the woodcutters to their business. Stephen still had a lot to accomplish, he couldn’t spend his entire day helping the woodcutting team. Besides, those boys had it all under control. Although, Stephen did feel pretty good about making a difference to them. Apparently, they had quite a bit of disdain for his predecessor, Lawrence Paulson.

  *****

  Tarra and the Kays arrived at site 72 at the same time as a man in his late twenties. He was carrying two buckets of water. Carrie exited her RV that was parked on the gravel pad and hustled over to the man, taking the buckets from him. She smiled at him and said, “Thanks, Kurt!”

  “No prob! See ya at noon,” Kurt said, and walked past Tarra and the Kays. He had waved courteously to them as he left the site. “Nice guy,” Tarra thought.

  Carrie took the buckets into the RV and quickly returned, cheerfully saying, “Good morning, Tarra!” Then she looked down at the Kays and said, “And good morning to you ladies, too! My name is Nurse Carrie, what are your names?”

  The Kays gave their names to the tall, friendly nurse. Judging by Carrie’s actions, Tarra guessed that she wasn’t upset about her bringing the kids. Just then, they heard a man shouting.

  “Carrie! Carrie! Help me!” a disheveled guy in his early thirties wearing a filthy flannel hoody was running up the road towards Carrie’s site. He had what looked like a dirty old t-shirt wrapped around his right hand.
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  Carrie and Tarra looked at each other and immediately put on their war faces. They both ran to the man, who was making indistinguishable noises from the pain.

  Carrie said, “Cole! What did you do this time?”

  “I burnt the shit out of my fuckin’ hand!” Cole hollered.

  “Language!” Carrie scolded, and pointed at the Kays, who were still standing on the gravel pad next to Carrie’s RV.

  “Oh, sorry. It just hurts like a motherfu-, I mean, son-of-a-gun,” Cole half laughed, half cried.

  “How’d this happen?” Carrie asked, as she and Tarra escorted Cole toward the RV.

  “I was makin’ breakfast on the fire, ya know? My chair gave out as I was leanin’ forward and I damn near fell into the fire pit!” Cole explained as he removed the t-shirt bandage.

  Tarra took one look at the hand and knew he wasn’t lying. There were red stripes exactly the same length apart as the cooking grates on a campsite fire ring. He must have fell toward the fire and stopped himself on the hot metal grates just before falling in.

  Carrie was about to take the agonized man inside the RV to fix him up, but then decided against it. It was time to test Tarra’s mettle.

  “Tarra, do you know what type of burn this is?” Carrie asked.

  Tarra didn’t have to study the hand long before replying, “The skin is red and blistered, it’s a second-degree burn.”

  Carrie smiled and said, “That’s right. Do you know how to treat it?”

  “I sure do,” Tarra replied. Then it was her turn to smile as she asked, “Do you have any Silvadene?”

  “I do, but it’s limited. I’m saving it for children only. Adults can deal with the pain,” Carrie said, pleased with Tarra’s response to her question.

  Cole grimaced and shouted, “What?”

  “You heard me, children only!” Carrie declared. She then said to Tarra, “The buckets of water that Kurt just delivered should be nice and cold. There’s gauze and surgical tape in the cupboards next to the fridge.”

  “Surgical? Why do you need surgical tape?” Cole screamed and looked at Carrie fearfully.

  Carrie laughed again, “Cole, that’s just what it’s called! For crying out loud, just relax! My new assistant is going to take good care of you.”

  “Got it!” Tarra excitedly announced and escorted the burned man (her first patient) to the RV trailer.

  Carrie said, “I’ll show your daughters around while you take care of burn-boy.”

  *****

  Stephen’s next order of business was to head to Cranberry Lake. He needed to get all the fishermen onboard with his plan to fish the ocean instead of focusing on the dwindling trout population inside the lake.

  Stephen was able to ascertain from the boys on the woodcutting team that the gunshots he had heard earlier that morning were “probably nothing” in their opinion. They explained that the beach security teams will fire warning shots at boats that get too close to the shore. Even with that knowledge, Stephen was still a bit apprehensive about being near the beach. It was unavoidable, however, since his job would heavily entail supervising activities in the saltwater.

  “I’ll just have to man up,” Stephen thought as he walked. “If need be, I’ll start bringing the M-4 with me if I’m going to the beach.”

  As the lake came into view, Stephen saw people fishing all over the lake again as suspected. He would be able to walk and speak with the folks fishing along the road, but would need a boat to reach the people on the lake using watercraft. Stephen wondered if there was a concerted effort to share the fish, or if it was an “everyone for themselves” type of thing.

  The first group of fishers he approached consisted of four men, a woman, and a young boy around eight or nine years old. All of them were sitting in chairs, lined up elbow-to-elbow in a small vehicle pullout that had a clearing in the brush just large enough to access the lake. They had their lines cast out and were bottom fishing for the trout. When they spotted Stephen approaching, they nudged each other and chattered amongst themselves.

  “Good morning!” Stephen said in a neighborly way. He didn’t want to come across as a douchebag-in-charge. “Any luck?” he asked.

  The little boy spoke up first, excitedly saying, “We got two!” He pointed to a red cooler. Stephen guessed that they were keeping the fish alive with some lake water in the cooler. Smart. There were no refrigerators or ice around to keep the fish fresh.

  The adults in the fishing party didn’t share the child’s enthusiasm. “They’re kind of small,” one of the men said, glumly.

  “Dang, that sucks,” Stephen began, “my name is Stephen Alexander, and I have been recently appointed as the new resource manager by Claudine and William.”

  The adults looked at each other hopefully. A man stated, “I heard about that earlier this morning.” Then he asked, “So you’re the new guy?”

  “Yupper. Not sure yet if it’s an honor or an incarceration,” Stephen laughed. The fishers chuckled for a second, then the first man that had spoken up about the small fish said, “So what happened to Larry, then?”

  “That’s a good question,” Stephen admitted. Then he asked, “Have any of you seen him around at all today?”

  The fishers looked at each other, all of them shaking their heads.

  “Nope.”

  Stephen didn’t know if that was a bad or good thing. Larry was a turd, but he had information that would definitely be useful. But, he would probably just get in the way if he was around. Or even worse, he might conflict with Stephen’s suggestions and opinions in front of others. Maybe even get confrontational. Stephen decided at that moment that Larry was more of liability than an asset.

  The fishing party introduced themselves as Art, Charles, Taylor and Kathleen. Charles went by “Chuck” and Kathleen went by “Kathy”. The optimistic little boy was Taylor and Kathy’s eight year-old son, and his name was Elliott.

  Judging by Kathy’s plumpness, the two small fish in the cooler wouldn’t suffice…

  Stephen was just about to ask the group if they have ever tried fishing in the Puget Sound when there was a gunshot. It was close, and Stephen was positive that it had come from the beach that time.

  None of the fishers had flinched or even seemed worried about it. Taylor said in a disgruntled tone, “I don’t know why they keep wasting ammunition like that.”

  Stephen questioned, “What is going on over there?”

  “They’re shooting at boats,” Taylor explained. “I don’t know whose policy it is, but any boat that gets closer than a couple hundred yards from the beach gets shot at.”

  Art agreed, and added, “Yup, total waste of ammo. I think most of those boats are either fishing or just taking a look around. You can’t blame them for looking, can ya?”

  “I guess not,” Stephen answered, somewhat confused. Then he asked, “How do you know it’s just our people shooting at boats?”

  Chuck stated, “Because our people carry around air horns. If it’s an actual attack, they will sound the alarm.”

  Stephen became curious, and asked, “Have there been any attacks?”

  “Just two. And they were both fairly recent,” Chuck replied.

  “Is that why nobody is fishing in the ocean?” Stephen asked.

  “Nah, some people do,” Art replied. “The beach security teams keep an eye on them while they’re out there.”

  Stephen took in the new information. As long as the security teams kept watch on the fishermen, and they were safe, he decided that he would still continue forward with his saltwater plan. “But….only if it’s safe over there,” Stephen thought. He wanted to go take a look for himself, just to be sure.

  Before laying out the saltwater proposal to the fishing party, Stephen asked his new friends a quick question, “Have any of you ever eaten smoked herring before?”

  Chapter 4

  Fish gave up on getting any more sleep just after eleven AM. He could no longer fight the brightness invading his tent
. “I’m gonna have to figure something out about this. If I am working nights, I’ll need to sleep during the day,” he thought.

  Pharaoh had been in the tent, sleeping alongside his master. He woke up and shook off his grogginess as Fish got dressed.

  “Washington is supposed to be cloudy, damnit!” Fish complained to the dog as he finished putting his clothes on. It was an awkward task for the very tall Fish to get dressed and put on his boots inside the little tent, especially with Pharaoh in the way. But, he had managed it many times in the past (without the dog, though), and it wasn’t long before he was out and about.

  “Wow, this is a nice-ass day, ain’t it?” Fish declared, once again to the dog, as he downed a bottle of water at the picnic table. It was only moments later that his stomach rumbled, and Fish found himself climbing into the bed of the truck. He rifled through all the bags and boxes, looking for something to eat. Fish, Stephen and Tarra never really talked about food distribution amongst themselves, so Fish decided that since there was no policy established yet, he could eat just about anything he wanted. Maybe an MRE? Nah, too much work filling up the heater bag with water and waiting for the chemical reaction to warm up the entrée and side. It needed to be something else.

  Then bam! He found the cardboard box that contained the cans of squeeze cheese and assorted boxes of crackers that they had collected from Eddie’s place after his death. Jackpot! Fish wondered how many of the crackers would be broken after the bumpy ride through the field. He selected a box of Garlic Butter Flavored Ritz crackers and a can of American cheese, then carefully climbed back out of the truck with his culinary booty in hand.

  At the picnic table, Fish was delightfully amazed to discover that most of the Ritz’s were unharmed.