THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge (19 page)

“Here are the facts,” Carrie began, “she was murdered on the trail.  The murderer is a person of great strength, for he was able to snap Julia’s neck like a twig.  There was a brief struggle, during which the man had attempted to keep her quiet.” 

“How do you know that?” Claudine asked.

“Because she had lipstick smeared around her mouth, cheeks and chin; as if a hand had been there.”

“Lipstick?” William frowned.  “Who wears lipstick out here?”

Carrie cocked her head at William as if to say,
“Women that mess around on their husbands, dummy, but you already knew that, you’re not that stupid, are you?”

“Never mind, I get it,” William said to Carrie, “please continue.”

Carrie shrugged her broad shoulders and said, “That’s about it.  Those are the facts.  Now, everything else is speculation and hearsay.  I think if we can figure out who Julia was messing around with, we can get closer to determining who did this.”

“That’s not your place,” Claudine affirmed, bluntly.  “We certainly appreciate your efforts, Carrie, and thank you for a job very well done, but we’ll take it from here.”

Carrie was taken aback.  She had initially thought that the Probsts had entrusted her as an investigator in the matter, but apparently not.  She didn’t feel like sitting on the sidelines, but what else could she do without upsetting the Probsts?

Claudine turned to Fish and said, “We’re going to need you to work for us, personally, until further notice.”

William horse-nodded his head in agreement.

Fish asked, “What about my shift?  I’m supposed to start in a few minutes.”

“Don’t worry about your shift,” Claudine insisted.  “We would like for you to appoint a temporary shift leader for the next few days.  Bryan would make an excellent nomination, but the ultimate decision is yours.”

Fish acknowledged Claudine’s orders and left the group on the road to speak with Stephen. Carrie was still staring at Claudine in silent disapproval of the decision to push her away from the investigation.

Claudine sensed that Carrie was upset and said, “I know it is in your nature to help, but this matter is under control.  Thank you again, Carrie, for all that you’ve done for The Park.”  She put her hand on William’s deltoid and continued praising Carrie with, “Words simply cannot describe how thankful we are for everything that you’ve done these past few weeks.”  

Carrie absorbed the compliment, which sounded more scripted than genuine, then informed the Probsts that she needed to get back to her trailer.  Tarra and the Kays were still there.

Fish met with Stephen and told him that he would be working directly for the Probsts from now on.  Stephen eyed him suspiciously, and asked what they needed him for, which of course, Fish had no clue.  He promised Stephen that he would return to site 199 as soon as he was finished with whatever the Probsts’ wanted him to do, and since he was no longer on the night shift, they could hang out by the fire and maybe crack open one of those bottles of Jack Daniel’s.

Stephen nodded and said, “Now that, my friend, is an excellent idea!”

Claudine interrupted Fish and Stephen’s conversation, firmly yelling, “Fish, your shift turnover meeting will be starting soon.  Get yourself out to the beach and do what we asked of you, please.  Return here when finished.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Fish replied.  He quickly shook Stephen’s hand and then happily cantered down the road toward the beach with Wolf prancing away at his heels.

As Claudine and William returned to their campsite, Hal angrily bellowed to them, “So what are the next steps?  How are we gonna find this guy?”

Before answering Hal, Claudine looked at Stephen and said, “Thank you for your help today, but this will need to be a private conversation.”

Stephen understood what she meant, and got onto his mountain bike to leave.  Before pedaling away, he shouted to Claudine and William, “I know you two have a lot on your plate right now, but if you could free up some time in the near future, I’d like to speak with you about Larry Paulson.”

William rolled his eyes, which Stephen hopefully perceived as frustration.  Not with him, but with Larry Paulson.  The Probsts must have been wanting to replace that guy for a long time, and when Stephen had arrived with his knowledge of resource management, they jumped on the opportunity.  But now, Stephen was left “holding the bag” full of Larry’s resent.

Claudine responded, “Stephen, I promise to make time for you after the meeting tomorrow.  I also believe that a man as savvy as yourself will appreciate tomorrow’s events.”

Stephen nodded and mock saluted with two fingers at his temple before rolling away on his bicycle.

Claudine turned to Hal, who was still holding his little boy and said, “Okay, Hal, here’s what we’re gonna need you to do during the meeting tomorrow…..”

Chapter 11

It was dark.  Stephen, Tarra, and the Kays sat around the fire at site 199 with plates of freshly smoked herring and white rice.  Hal had constructed wonderful smokers, and the hardwood smoke had seasoned the small fishes perfectly.  With a steady pipeline of fish (not just herring, but other ocean fish as well) coming from Stephen’s fishing teams, there would be no shortage of meat anytime soon.  Just wait until the salmon start running through the Puget Sound!  What great days those will be!  Smoked salmon was a superbly delicious treat, even
before
The Collapse. 

Victor and Gerty had provided Stephen with gallons of cooking oil and seasonings, mostly salt, that the woodcutters hid amongst the trees near wood station #1.  Stephen had quickly taught them how to prepare fish meat for smoking, so they could keep the smokers running while Stephen was out and about taking care of other business.  Herring and other fish won’t live forever in buckets and coolers, so the smokers would need to operate continuously throughout the day to accommodate the influx.  Stephen also reminded the boys, “Absolutely NO fish for Larry Paulson…none!”  The boys had all agreed while chuckling to themselves.

Kyla spoke up while plucking savory pieces of tender flesh off her herring bone, “Daddy, these fishies are good!  But do we have any soy sauce for the rice?”

Stephen looked at Tarra, who replied with, “I’ll have to look, baby girl.  But I think we might have some in the back of the truck.”

“Oh, me too, me too!  I want some!” Katrina hollered. 

Tarra’s meal would have to be put on hold until she found the soy sauce, if any
could
be found.

Stephen volunteered as he set his plate down, “I’ll help you find it.  Soy sauce sounds like a good idea.”

As the doting parents searched for the soy sauce by the truck’s dome light, an odd sound was noted in the distance.  It was a squawky, scratchy sound, much like an AM radio on a bad frequency.  A woman’s voice was erupting out of the darkness.  It sounded like Claudine Probst, but Stephen wasn’t entirely sure.

A few moments later as the voice became louder and clearer, Stephen recognized that it was, in fact, Claudine.  It sounded like she had a bullhorn, and was spewing information to The Park.  “
Of course she has a bullhorn,”
Stephen thought, “
what good politician didn’t always have a bullhorn handy?”

Tarra stopped searching for the sauce, and moved to the road to listen better.  She called to Stephen, “That’s Claudine’s voice, isn’t it?”

“Yup, sure is,” Stephen agreed as he joined his wife by the road.

Claudine’s electronically amplified voice emitted,
“Attention all residents: please be advised that there will be a meeting held at the amphitheater at nine o’clock AM.  That’s nine o’clock sharp.  Attendance is MANDATORY for all residents.  I say again, attendance is MANDATORY for all residents.  Please bring along any questions or concerns you might have, as they will all be addressed by The Park leadership at that time. The amphitheater can be located by heading towards the north beach and following the signs.”

The message was repeated again and again.  As the bullhorn neared site 199, Stephen and Tarra witnessed Fish walking next to the Probsts, shining a flashlight ahead of them to discern a clear walkway for his bosses. 

When the group passed Stephen and Tarra, Fish giddily waved to them.  He was having fun. 

Tarra guffawed, “Oh, good lord.  Stephen…look at him.”

“I know, I see it,” Stephen laughed.  Fish was the Probsts’ newest little bitch.  Or bodyguard.  Whichever term you prefer. 

Wolf was skipping along next to his big buddy, apparently the Probsts had allowed him tag along.  Maybe Fish had insisted on it.  Who knew? 

A fifth person was walking with the group and holding a flashlight on the other side of the Probsts as well.  Stephen immediately recognized him, for even in the dark it was hard not to.  He had met the huge man earlier that day; he was one of Hal’s gatekeepers.  A younger, muscle-bound, quiet guy.  The ideal type of man for guard duty.  He was probably on loan from Hal to assist Fish with the Probsts’ security detail.

Pharaoh was still tied to Fish’s truck, and began to whine as the bullhorn parade continued past site 199 and marched away, continuing to blast out the meeting notification over and over.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Stephen consoled the animal as he dug his hands into Pharaoh’s mane and lovingly scratched the dog’s neck.  “He’ll be back soon…I think.”

*****

Approximately an hour after the bullhorn group had passed the Alexander’s site, an excited Fish came back to site 199.  He untied Pharaoh from his truck and joined the Alexander’s by the fire, sitting down with his huge trademark grin. 

Fish noticed that the Kays weren’t around and said, “I guess I missed them?”

Tarra stated, “They’re in bed already.  The temperature was dropping fast, and I wanted them inside, just in case it starts raining again.”

“Oh, good call,” Fish agreed with Tarra, somewhat sadly.  He wished they were still up so he could have at least said hello.  He wasn’t around them much since he had been working the night shift.  He missed his two favorite little girls.

Stephen grinned at Fish and asked, “I see that you’ve officially been enlisted into the Probsts’ SS now.”

“SS?  What the hell is that?” Fish asked, confused.

Stephen and Tarra both laughed.  Had Fish known what Stephen was actually insinuating, he might have gotten upset.

“Never mind,” Stephen said.  Then he quickly changed the subject by saying, “I guess the meeting tomorrow is going to be a real hum-dinger.”

“Yes, sir!” Fish belted out.  “Oh, I almost forgot.  Claudine wanted me to tell you to be there early.  Like 8:30 or something.”

“Did she say why?” Stephen asked, then looked at Tarra who was eyeing Fish suspiciously.

Fish explained, “She said that all the leaders are going to have a quick meeting
before
the meeting.”

Tarra scowled and said to Stephen, “Sounds like she wants you to get onboard with something before gen-pop starts asking their questions during the open forum.”

Fish interrupted by holding his hand up, “Wait!  You mean ‘gen-pop’ like in a prison?”

“Yes, general population, like in a prison,” Tarra answered in a mocking voice as if Fish was a four-year-old.

Stephen clarified by saying, “It’s just a prison
reference,
bud.  We’re not saying that The Park is a prison.”

Fish laughed and said, “That’s right.  We’re not in a prison.  Not even close.”

Tarra asked with her joking tone aside, “Are you sure?”

Stephen spoke up before Tarra got Fish confused, angry, or both, “Just look at it like this, The Park is
structured
much like a prison.  First, you have a warden, which is Claudine.  Second, you have the executive officer to the warden, which is obviously William.  Then you have all the correctional officers that maintain discipline and follow the orders of the warden, which basically consists of the security forces and the rest of The Park leadership, including you and myself.  Finally, you have the inmates.  All of the other people camped out around us.” 

Stephen referred to the “rest of the residents” by making a circular motion with his hands toward the campground.

“But, they can leave whenever they want, so they’re not prisoners,” Fish insisted.

Stephen detected that Tarra was now getting upset.  She was shaking her head and looking away from Fish into the darkness outside the fire.  Maybe she was upset was because she wasn’t park leadership.  Or, maybe it was because Claudine had used the word “mandatory” during her bullhorn announcement.  Tarra had never been a big fan of anything “mandatory”.  Tarra also might have been frustrated because she had just realized that she was only “gen-pop” herself, along with the Kays.  Stephen wasn’t exactly sure of what was bothering her, but he
was
sure that she wanted to take out her frustrations on Fish for some reason. 

Nobody spoke for a few long moments.  Only the fire popped and crackled through the thick wall of silence between the best friends.  Stephen needed to redirect the conversation.

“Hey bro,” Stephen popped up and said to Fish, “why don’t you get one of those bottles of Jack out of your truck and we’ll pass it around for a few?”

“Alright!” Fish replied and stood up excitedly.

“You guys go ahead,” Tarra grumbled.  “I’m going to bed.”

Stephen begged, “Aw, c’mon honey.  Just a few more minutes.”

“No, it’s okay, seriously.  You two have fun.  I had a really long day and I need to get some sleep.”

Stephen knew that was she was saying was bullshit.  Tarra never had a problem staying up late before.  Never!  She was even more of a night owl than he was.  However, he didn’t want to pressure her.  He knew better than that.  He also knew that he should go to bed with her.  Not only because she was his wife, but he also had plans to get up extra early the next morning.

Even though Fish was disappointed that Stephen wouldn’t be joining him for drinks at the fire that evening, he understood.  Stephen promised him a “rain check” anyway, which meant Fish reserved the right to cash that check at just about any time he wished…

*****

The next morning, Stephen awoke before anyone else.  He had silently dressed and escaped from the tent without notice.  There were many things to take care of before meeting with The Park leadership at 0830.  The bicycle would certainly expedite things.

Without coffee or breakfast, Stephen pedaled away from site 199 and headed toward wood station #1.  He intended on performing a service check on the smokers, and to make sure that at least two of the woodcutters remained at wood station #1 during the meeting scheduled for nine o’clock.  Since he had no idea how long the meeting would last, Stephen would need some of them to remain at the station to guard against thievery, and additionally, to ensure that the wood-hungry smokers kept their bellies full.  They were on a strict diet of Maple or Alder wood.

As Stephen neared the wood station, he began to smell the smoke.  His boys were already hard at work!  Such good kids they were.  Stephen felt as though he should reward them with some time off, maybe they could rotate days-off with each other.  Set up some type of schedule for it.  Or, break it down into three eight hour shifts, maybe?  Keep the smokers running throughout the evening?  As it currently stood, the boys worked from sunrise until after sunset every day.  How long could that be sustained before their morale was completely demolished?  Stephen made a mental note to create a definitive shift-work schedule for the boys that would be effective sometime within the near future.  He would let his boys decide what day and time it would actually begin.

Stephen’s mind suddenly snapped out of schedule-creation mode.  Something was wrong.  The smoke he smelled was not of the food-friendly Alder or Maple variety.  It wasn’t even Oak.  No.  It was wrong.  All wrong.  It smelled like garbage burning in a campsite fire ring.

Stephen had a realization;
“Oh, shit, did I forget to tell the boys never to use pine for smoking meats?

He was pretty sure that he had warned them about using pine, it renders meat inedible.  He remembered now, he
had
given them specific instructions never to use pine when they separated the split wood pieces into separate piles.  But why would they have used it, then?

Unfortunately for Stephen, the woodcutters, and all the fishermen that spent time harvesting those fish, it wasn’t hardwood that he smelled burning. It was definitely pine.  So he pedaled faster and faster.  If he could get there quickly enough, maybe it wouldn’t be too late to save the meat!

The woodcutters scampered to the side as Stephen barreled into wood station #1 and rapidly dismounted, leaving the bicycle to fall to the ground on its side as he bounded for the smoking machines.  The boys instantly knew something was wrong, their boss was out of sorts.

“Shit!” Stephen screamed after he opened the first smoker.  He began opening the wood compartment bays of all the other smokers, hollering in discontent, “Guys, help me get this wood out of here!  Now!”

Two of the boys took their hand saws and used them as makeshift shovels to slide and shimmy the half-burnt wood chunks out of the smokers and onto the foot-flattened dirt below.

The other woodcutters that had watched their comrades dangerously unload the fiery hot wood pieces were about to dump their water bottles on the still-smoldering piles in front of the smokers when Stephen stopped them.

“Wait, don’t use your drinking water for that.  Just slide all that junk off to the side, away from the smokers and let them burn out,” he said.  After pointing at some of the larger half-burnt pieces, he continued with, “If these don’t burn off, give them away to people that need it.  They’re still quite burnable.  Let them cool down first, of course.”

Prince had been studying Stephen’s odd behavior since he arrived.  He asked, “Why did we just take all the wood out of these smokers?  They were working just fine, just like you showed us.”