Chapter 4 - Ashes of American Flags

They were deep in the trees now. Two hours into the wilderness that ran alongside the river beside them, Highway 503 turned into an evermore lonesome road on that last stretch toward Spirit Lake. Nearly a hundred miles of dense, scenic woods toward one of the most deadly active volcanoes along the ring of fire. Sure, it had been decades since tons of ash had been thrown up into the air. That didn't make it any less dangerous.

Luna had the window down in the passenger seat. Her monthly 'gift' didn't lend itself to comfortable travel. She'd loosened Lane's pair of blue jeans she was still wearing and reclined in the passenger seat watching the rays of afternoon light sift through the trees, strobing across the empty highway.

    "Did you read about the guy who died here during the eruption?" Luna asked massaging herself. Her face scrunched up, fighting back the pain.

    Lane kept his eyes on the road, "Yeah, I think a few dozen people died when it erupted back in 1980. Did you mean someone specifically?"

    Luna nodded, groaned, "There was this one man, Harry something, in his late eighties. He refused to evacuate as the lava came down the mountainside. Kinda makes you wonder, huh?" There was a palpable pain in her words, not just from the cramps, the motion-sickness, or bloating. A deeper sorrow hung in the air that neither of the Twins would fully understand until much later.

    "I suppose if there wasn't anything left..." Lane considered. He watched the lonesome road while the words rolled around in his mind. He watched a mental picture of the man staying behind with his stuff, his house as twelve-hundred-degree molten lava gradually made its way toward him. It wasn't a quick way to die. Lane's parents had impressed upon him that material goods were never more valuable than any one person's life. Even the memories attached to trinkets weren't really a part of the items themselves but were locked away in the individual's mind. Lane grimaced. He pitied the man who died for stuff and chose not to save himself. It was a despairing reality.

    Luna groaned, "There's always something left to discover. The man had no hope. He'd forgotten that tomorrow always comes."

    Lane scoffed, "That's funny."

    Still massaging her stomach, Luna countered, "No. That's the truth."

    "No, I mean, 'Tomorrow always comes,' is almost the exact opposite of what Uncle Dan told me this morning while you were... Busy." Lane caught himself. They'd lived with each other long enough that there was a quiet, respectable dance around openly talking about sexual partners. More often than not however Luna was the one who danced right on the line. Lane himself kept more of a healthy distance away from that subject.

    "You two were talking behind my back?" She tried to force a wink but ended up scowling through another bout of cramps.

    "No, not directly. When we saw the black wolf-" Again Lane bit his tongue.

    "Wolf? What wolf?" Luna asked in a near growl. Lane drummed on the steering wheel, hesitant to answer. Luna insisted, "Ursa Major?"

    "I don't wanna break my promise," Lane spat out. He kept his eyes on the road, the pines, the blue sky obscured behind the branches reaching over the road. He couldn't look at his sister. He knew, he felt her disappointment and the guilt that came rolling behind it.

    A moment of silence passed between them.

    "You saw another creature, like the one on the shore didn't you?" Luna whispered.

    More silence filled their jeep.

    With both their windows down, the wind rushed through their hair. Birds cawed in the distance. Forest creatures chittered somewhere in the woods. The mix of unseen sound and visible stillness all around them was unsettling, lonely, foreboding.

    Luna's judgment continued to hang as a knife in the air.

    "Uncle Dan speculated that wolf and the leopard, or whatever they really were, might be an omen," Lane started. He waited for his sister to chime in, but the unsettling silence remained. "He suggested it's on us to live in the moment, not worry about the future. I made a promise. I'm keeping it. We're on vacation. No mysteries. No missions. Just us taking our time--"

    Luna reached over and grabbed Lane's hand. She gave it a soft squeeze. That was all he needed to feel reassured that whatever doom was headed their way, The Twins would tackle it together just as they always had.

    "Looks like we're here," Luna said quietly.

    A weathered oak sign pointed toward a nearly invisible driveway in the thick line of pine trees off the main road. Turning left off the two-lane highway, the orange Jeep tumbled over well-worn asphalt. Being conscious not to jostle the Jeep too much because of Luna's state, Lane carefully maneuvered forward between the pines.

    They made their way up a modest incline and found themselves at a fork in the road. To their left a gravel road led wound deeper into the thick woods, seemingly to nowhere. A line of mailboxes on a wooden hitching post suggested private residences beyond the twisting driveway. In the center of the fork was a small pond with a model lighthouse floating on a pontoon. Their destination was to the right. On either side of the road stood two massive black oak totem pools with a sign that arched high over the road...

"Welcome to Trillion Pines Youth Camp."

    Lane studied the carvings and felt a chill run up his spine. From the base to the top intricate and surreal depictions of a leopard, a wolf, and a lion all stood intertwined together. At the top of either pole, the animals held up women that appeared half-deer, half-human. Each Deer Woman held their arms outstretched to hold up the carved welcome sign.

    "She's got a nice rack," Luna scoffed.

    Lane raised an eyebrow.

    With a pained chuckle, she pointed, "Of antlers?"

    "Sure," Lane winced and rolled the jeep forward under the sign, into the camp.

 The asphalt road snaked upwards at a steady incline. It was a few minutes before they saw any visible clearing in the dense mess of trees and brush. Off to their left, an empty football-field-sized stretch of open lawn with a steep downward slope could be seen. There were chalk marks along the edges at random intervals. Probably a football field, albeit one that heavily favored one side over the other. On the opposite side of the road, directly across from the sloped field, Luna pointed to an asphalt clearing with a row of portable bathrooms.

They drove a few minutes more and finally came to a less dense space within the woods. Another fork, another sign, and a welcomed absence of creepy animal totems. If they continued forward the road took a sharp upward incline into more thick woods. To the left, however, was the first semblance of civilization. The left path dipped down into a horseshoe-like cul-de-sac; most likely a drop-off for busses full of campers. At the base of the horseshoe was a large, log cabin. It held distinct blend of modern and western-heritage styles in the design; large stained glass windows, stone brickwork along the base, and thick cedar support pillars lining the forward deck.

To the left of the main cabin were a combination infirmary and post office. The building was one-fourth in size compared to the main cabin, but of similar design. On the right, sat an odd, tilted two-story wood shack that resembled two Dutch Brothers Coffee drive-thrus stacked on top of one another. An unlit neon sign hung above a metal garage door, "Snack-Shack," and another sign posted above was labeled, "Staff Lounge."

The Twins parked the Jeep in front of the main cabin and let it idle. Lane checked his watch, they were exactly an hour early. Other than the occasional crow or breeze flowing through the massive pines that towered above them, there was not a soul to be seen or heard. Reluctantly, Lane cut the engine and opened the door. His feet stepped onto the gravel driveway and crunched toward a circular flower garden across from the Main Lodge. A bronze bell with a large crack running down its side sat in the center among several lilies waiting to bloom. A bronze plaque and inscription was posted at the base of the bell...

    "Arise, arise, arise, arise, and lift your spirits to the skies / Gift me your flesh to the earth / Upon your climax shall I pull you into my depths / Ring, ring, ring, ring, together we shall sing and conclude our dance around the stars." - Xwa'ni Creed (Cowlitz Tribe, 1806)

Luna clicked her tongue and cocked her head, "Don't think I've heard that one before." Lane tapped his temple. An old habit, taking a mental snapshot of the inscription.

    Before adding another rye remark, Luna doubled over and groaned.

    Rushing to her side, Lane's concern was waved off by his sister; "I'm fine." She groaned again.

    "Luna, the infirmary is twenty paces to our left, let's at least get some Benadryl or Midol in you," Lane urged, trying to help his sister to her feet.

    Again she declined, instead suggesting, "How about you find the meds and I rest here by the Jeep? Not moving around sounds like a good idea."

    Lane nodded and sprinted over to the infirmary. He hadn't even reached the door when it was clear the place was vacant. No lights inside and a thick layer of soot and dust caked the exterior windows. He brushed through a spider web while trying to peer through one of the windows.

Nobody home.

    Pivoting on his heels, Lane called back to Luna, "I'm gonna try the staff lounge."

    Luna offered a pitiful thumbs up and climbed back into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

    Much the same as the infirmary, everything was dark, locked, and appeared abandoned. He'd also made a quick circle around the Main Lodge to no avail. In the back of his mind, Lane knew his sister would be fine. This wasn't her first period after all. He'd been there for that. In perspective, she was mildly inconvenienced at best. Whether it was being this far out in the wilderness, the eerie stillness, or lack of humanity, panic had begun to flirt at the edges of Lane's nerves.

    Coming around to the front of the Main Lodge once more, Lane remembered his standard operating procedure. Start at the edges, dummy. He stopped and scanned his surroundings. Sure enough, there was a signpost to the side of the staff lounge he'd overlooked. Several wooden boards cut into arrows pointing to their respective dirt trails...

    "Boys' Barracks - Southwest Trail"

    "Potter's Field (Formerly Potter's Lake) - East Trail"

    "Girls' Barracks - Southeast Trail"

    "Staff Cabins - Western Trail"

    "Upper field, Low Ropes, High Ropes - North West Trail"

Staff Cabins. Surely somebody had to have arrived before them. At the very least, there would be evidence of where the rest of the staff might be meeting. Lane jogged along the white sand trail lined with rocks and small solar-powered foot lanterns intermittently jutting out of the soil on either side. A quarter-mile later, and he'd arrived at a complex of five, grey, rustic cabins.

Five grotty wooden steps led up to a raised deck that connected the small three-man cabins and a sixth building directly across from him. In stark comparison to the five faded-grey bunkhouses, the sixth building appeared brand new; warm cedar siding, fresh paint, stone accent around the base. Steam wafted out from a cracked window in the back as Lane approached the new cabin marked, "Bathhouse."

Crossing the length of the grey deck, Lane heard running water. He reached his hand out and tapped the door. Unlocked. The heavy cedar door opened without a creek and a wall of steam poured out into Lane's face.

As the steam cleared, there was a clear stylistic shift from neglected Western American architecture to culturally appropriated Japanese. This bathhouse was an elaborately decorated and furnished onsen complete with personal bathing stations, an 'L' shaped hot pool in the upper right corner, and a bank of private toilets in the opposite corner.  Along the walls was a beautiful, elaborate black and white wrap-around tile mural of tree branches that reached out like arms toward the same Deer Woman as seen at the Trillion Pines Gates.

    "Are you here to help me?" asked a silvery, pained voice that floated up from the bath.

    Lane's previously panicked mind immediately shifted gears into rescue mode. Someone was in trouble and needed help.

    "Yes. I can help. Stay calm, can you describe what's wrong? Are you injured?" Lane spoke calmly, scripted, the first aid and water rescue training that was beaten into him played back with perfect synchronicity. It wasn't until Lane caught sight of the girl reclining in the bath that his well-played record skipped a beat.

    Pale white skin, silvery hair that went down past firm, honeydew breasts. A petite frame that was neither too athletic nor visibly unfit. Natural, unshaven, silver hair between her legs matched the long locks that floated around her head like a neutron star.

    Lane cleared his throat. Stick to the script; "Are you in any pain?"

    "Yes," She gasped. "I've been marked."

    Lane kicked off his boots and waded into the hot tub. The water was scolding, but he approached the girl cautiously, checking for wounds, gashes, slits... Stop staring, you idiot, and get to work! Lane kept to script, "Miss, my name is Lane Woods, I'm certified in water rescue and first aid, I'm going to help you out of the tub. Do you understand?"

    "Lane," She repeated, reaching up for him with both arms.

    Lane paused, "Before I move you, does it hurt to move your neck, arms, legs?"

    "I've been marked, I need your help," She repeated, making more of an effort to reach out to Lane. He leaned back just outside of her fingertips.

Okay, Lane thought, She's bending at the waist, able to move her head and neck. No visible surface lacerations. Lane made the call, a spinal injury seemed unlikely. Her speech was slowed, dazed. Her sapphire eyes were heavily dilated. Drugs? Maybe a concussion?

Lane positioned himself to carefully lift the girl. She barely weighed anything at all. Carefully he lifted the young girl out of the shallow pool and gently set her back on the cedar deck. "I'm going to find some towels to get you dry. Try and remain still. Where are your clothes-?" Lane was about to climb out of the pool himself. Instead, the girl's long arms and feet wrapped around his neck and waist. Lane was ensnared.

"Please, you have to help me. I've been marked," The girl whispered as she brought her wet, wanting lips to meet Lane's.