Chương 123: Book 4 - Chapter 11 A

I woke Saturday to the sounds of the surf. Jack and the team had maneuvered the RV onto the hard packed sand of the upper beach at Ocean Shores for a sunset dinner. We then moved to a reserved spot at Pacific Beach State Park, where we were only twenty feet from the beach.

"Jack," I told him, "This is magnificent. I'm so glad you listened when I said I want to sleep hearing the waves."

"I've got a big itinerary planned out. Don't try to ruin the surprises by asking too many questions. Matt gave me a few suggestions as well." I couldn't help the grin.

"Just make sure I'm taking off in time to meet the rocket guys on Wednesday. Getting them to Camarillo on my plane is absolutely vital."

"Understood, John. As soon as you're ready we will head to the quietest place on earth. Matt suggested I find you a good spot for Tai Chi. I think you'll like it." The drive north on Highway 101 was a claustrophobic tunnel of ancient green. The road was a narrow ribbon of asphalt that seemed to be losing a war against the encroaching ferns and towering Sitka spruces. Jack handled the heavy RV with a surgical precision that shouldn't have been possible for a man his size.

He followed a red Jeep Wrangler, the humvees considered too odd for this trip. The goal was to not be noticed, just to be summer tourists. Two more in other colors followed. I rode shotgun enjoying the sights. We passed through small timber towns where every second truck bore a yellow ribbon and a bumper sticker cursing the spotted owl. The air grew heavier and cooler as we turned inland toward the Hoh.

By the time we reached the ranger station the scent of salt had been replaced by the deep and loamy perfume of a world that hadn't changed in ten thousand years. When we pulled into the gravel lot near the visitor center I checked on Max. He was stretched out on the dash his golden eyes tracking a Steller's jay through the glass. The kitten was vibrating with a low purr but his ears were pinned toward the door. I decided it was best to leave him in the climate-controlled safety of the RV.

The sheer density of the scents outside would be sensory overload for a fourteen week old hybrid.

"Stay here and guard the fort, Max," I murmured scratching him under the chin. He let out a soft trill and settled back into his paws. I stepped out and the silence hit me like a physical weight. Jack led the way toward the Hall of Mosses his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth for anything that didn't belong in a national park. I could hear him murmur instructions on his radio to the rest of the security team. The trail was a soft carpet of needles and decaying wood that swallowed the sound of our boots.

Within a hundred yards the world of engines and pavement ceased to exist. Massive Bigleaf Maples draped in curtains of club moss leaned over us like weary giants. The moss acted as a perfect anechoic chamber absorbing every vibration until the only thing left was the rhythmic thumping of my own heart. Jack stopped at a small clearing where the light filtered down in dusty shafts of emerald and gold. He nodded to me and stepped back into the shadows of a nurse log providing a silent perimeter.

I moved to the center of the space and took a deep breath of the oxygen-rich air. I began the opening movements of my Tai Chi form my hands slicing through the cool mist with effortless fluidity. In this absolute silence every shift of my weight and every rotation of my palms felt amplified. I wasn't just moving through the air I was joining the stillness of the forest. The stress of the Satsop project and the worry over the next six months fell away.

I moved from the skittering cacophony of the future into the silence and stillness of the Now. For these few minutes there was no John W Cook. There was no pain. There was no heartbreak. There was only the breath and the moss. Sunday morning arrived with a cool mountain breeze as we ascended the seventeen-mile road to Hurricane Ridge. Jack had us in one of the Jeeps as we climbed steadily through the switchbacks. When we reached the top I stepped out to a view that stole my breath.

Alpine meadows were exploding with wildflowers and I could look straight across the blue expanse of the Strait toward the hazy silhouette of Victoria. The air at five thousand feet was thin and sharp and it gave me a sense of mental clarity I hadn't felt in weeks. I'd have to share this with her. It was too beautiful to experience alone. When we got back to the RV a young girl only a year or two older than me was struggling to put a flyer under the RV windshield wiper.

"What are you selling?" I asked her as I walked up to the RV. She turned around embarrassed, but concentrated her confidence into a reply. She was wearing several yellow ribbons, and the flyer had big no sign on the front. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"What do you think of the Spotted Owl?" she asked.

"Gamey, kind of like a California Condor. Not nearly as tasty as a Bald Eagle," I told her. Her eyes went big then she doubled over in laughter. When she caught her breath she was still chuckling.

"I can't wait to tell the others what you said. That was the funniest thing I've heard in weeks," she said, and shoved a hand out.

"Myriam Wallace."

"John Cook," I told her giving her hand a firm shake.

"Your RV has California plates, are you up here on vacation?" she asked. I looked at the front and saw she was right.

"I don't know where the RV came from, it's a rental. My home is in Tulsa, Oklahoma," I told her.

"So you're a cowboy?" she asked, giving me a look from head to toe.

"This week. Next week I get to be the Indian." She chuckled again.

"Are you going to be around for a while? There's a group of us planning on a bonfire on the beach this evening." I leaned against the warm metal of the RV, keeping a straight face.

"Really? I heard this forest is full of werewolves and vampires. Is that safe?"

"What?" she asked confused, as I told a joke only I got. I felt Jack's presence behind me, so I turned to him.

"Where to next?" I asked him.

"Bit of a long drive today, we're heading to Port Townsend," he said.

"Sorry," I told her.

"Looks like we're headed on."

"Do you want to buy a bumper sticker?" she asked, pulling one from her back pocket. It said 'Save a Logger, Eat an Owl.'

"Sure." I fished my wallet from my back pocket, thumbing through the bills.

"How much is it?"

"Five dollars. It goes to the lumberjack defense fund."

"Here take ten. I'll buy two, but I dare you to stick one on the back of a police car." Her expressive eyes didn't widen in horror, instead they dropped into a calculating, mischievousness. A devilish grin spreading across her face.

"Deal!" she said, handing me one bumper sticker and taking the ten dollar bill from my hand. We descended from the mountains and headed east on Highway 101 toward the Quimper Peninsula. Jack kept a steady pace as the rugged wilderness began to give way to the Victorian charm of Port Townsend. The town was buzzing with Centennial energy. Every porch was draped in patriotic bunting and the streets were a chaotic mix of tourists and sailors.

I watched through the window as we bypassed the crowds and pulled into Fort Worden State Park. Jack had secured a spot right on the beach near the Point Wilson Lighthouse. Jack set up my chair on the grass and handed me a massive pair of binoculars. As the sun began to dip toward the Olympic Mountains the horizon was suddenly dotted with white triangles. The tall ships were arriving. I tracked the Lady Washington as she led the fleet through the heavy currents of the Admiralty Inlet.

Her sails caught the orange glow of the sunset and for a moment she looked like a ghost from another century. Max sat on the dashboard his tail twitching as the vibration of the nearby foghorn rattled the RV glass. I leaned back and enjoyed the salt spray on my face. Jack stood a few yards away his back to the water as he watched the perimeter but even he seemed to relax in the maritime air.

Two days left before I had to go back to work, but tonight I was content to watch the tide come in and listen to the snap of the canvas in the distance. The tall ships had anchored for the night and the harbor was a constellation of flickering mast lights. Jack returned to the RV with several brown paper bags that filled the small cabin with the scent of lime and roasted peanuts. He had sent one of the men into Port Townsend to a place on Water Street.

"Thai food," Jack announced as he set the containers on the counter.

"Matt said you'd want something clean and flavorful. I told them no eggs. They used extra tofu instead." I opened a container of Pad Thai and inhaled the steam. Jack opened the other boxes and we served ourselves portions from the variety of dishes. The spice level of the pineapple fried rice with cashews and fried tofu was perfect. I sat by the window sharing a few pieces of plain steamed shrimp with Max while watching the moonlight dance on the hulls of the wooden ships.

As I chased the last few grains of rice around my bowl I looked up to find Jack giving me an odd look.

"Thank you Jack. This has been a wonderful weekend so far. I'm sorry I haven't spent more time talking with you," I told him as I finished eating.

"I get it," he said.

"I see you lost in your own head most of the time. You smile a lot, but it doesn't always reach your eyes, John."

"There are times I feel the weight of the world," I confessed.

"The responsibility for every soul on this planet. To be able to carve out a few days of peace while I wait for the moment to save just one more? This has been precious. Thank you."

"Then again," he continued.

"There are times I see your entire face lit up in amusement at some joke that you see that no one else does. I wonder at times how you see us."

"See you?" I asked.

"Yeah. Have you considered the difference in IQ between the two of us, is about the same as between me and Max?"

"But, Max is really smart," I said with a big teasing smile. He smiled back getting the joke.

"When you get lost in your head, just ask for another surprise trip like this. I'll keep a few ideas on the back burner ready to go the moment you need to unwind. I've seen the way you unwound at Hoh, and the joy on your face at the meadow. Nature is a cure for the ills of mankind."