Chapter 1. Yellow Bird

October 26, 1998

It was humid and hot, that was one thing. I could deal with that, really, I could. If anything, the sky being overcast helped immensely. Some nice, cool rain would be refreshing. Being born and raised in Texas tends to give a girl tolerance for that sort of thing. Having a job as a freelance photojournalist whose latest assignments have been described as "war torn", "desolate", and "bloody" helps deal with other forms of discomfort. Not to mention that one almost two years back that didn't get published that included the words "drug lord", "Central America", "ruins", and most distressingly: "radioactive".

That was an experience that I never want to repeat. Ever. Let's go searching in the jungles of Panama for a dangerous ex-general who's been suspected of kidnapping and ransoming tourists on top of producing mountains of cocaine who recently lost a civil war that he started. Then, let's get dragged into a search for one of the Seven Cities of Gold and get shot at repeatedly. At least I was able to sell those photos of the wildlife and the carvings in the rock faces to National Geographic. Not a total loss but nowhere near what I had hoped for.

However, my car's engine had died on the road on my way to a small town. That was a whole other barrel of fish. The car was a piece of junk, which was why I had bought it. I had meant to repair and detail it as something to do while I wasn't working. Luckily, a truck had stopped to see if I needed any help and had driven me to a gas station where I could call a mechanic.

"Hey, you a'right? Yer lookin a little pale there."

Oh right, the mechanic. He was a tall, heavily muscled man with just a bit of paunch starting to appear. He had his strawberry-blonde hair in a military crew cut and a five o' clock shadow starting to appear. His ratty looking orange tank top looked ancient and his thick, oil-stained denim jeans were tucked into scuffed, brown cowboy boots. He was an all right kind of guy, who was giving me a ride in the tow truck.

"No, I'm fine, really."

The honest truth is that I never really tan; well I guess I turn the color normal people are. I've always been naturally pale, like my mother. I also inherited her light blonde hair and lean figure. I inherited my light green eyes from my dad and unfortunately, according to most of my acquaintances, his curiosity.

"Whatcha doin' here anyway?" he looked suspiciously at me over his glasses. "I don't recall seeing you around here before."

"I'm taking a break from work. I just needed a quiet weekend away from home. Just got done with a big photography job. It was a good learning experience, but the stress... Eeesh."

His expression softened. "Huh, well not much chance of anything bad in Morris' Point. It's pretty quiet here most of the time. Tomorrow might be a bit loud though."

"Really, why?"

As soon as I had asked he had started to grin widely.

"It's the town's founding festival. Our town's been standing for over one hundred years."

"Awesome."

He clearly agreed.

"There's gonna be a cook off, fireworks, and I think the amusement park is gonna be half off."

"It's perfect. I love fireworks." My lips twitched into a soft smile. "I'll have to take some pictures."

It's true. I do love explosions. I also love going to the shooting range with my grandfather and uncle, long distance and endurance running, and baking.

"This the only place you going?"

"Nah, I'm checking out a few other amusement parks and places my Grandfather recommended. I'm heading up to Dallas after this, check out Seaworld and the River Walk."

The town was well sized with a couple of neighborhoods, a couple of high schools, and a boardwalk amusement park. It also had quite a few farms, a fishery, and a couple of medical research labs. Not bad for a town split between an island and the gulf coast.

The scenery was green, which was pretty typical for a coastal south Texas town. Morris' Point was a town split between a stretch land on the Texas coast and an island in the Gulf. It was a few counties away from Houston, located near the Texas/Louisiana border. The town was generally regarded as a quiet town of upper-class retirees, researchers, and fishermen. Most tourists thought it was a nice vacation spot for fishing, family fun, or just relaxation. I had other ideas.

"What was your name again?"

"West. Octavia West."

"Octavia"?

It's not my fault that my mom's side of the family has a taste for ridiculously outdated names.

"Please, just call me West or Canary. I really don't like my first name."

"Canary?" He had a somewhat skeptical look. I didn't blame him.

"I guess it's because I wear a lot of yellow. It's my lucky color." True, I do wear yellow a good amount of the time but in all honesty it's a shortened form of "Canary in a Coalmine". I have the worst luck.

He stopped at the light and looked me over. I had my shoulder length, light blond hair pulled back in a messy bun. I was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a sunshine colored tank top under a gray Henley. There was a black choker necklace with a small, silver bird on my neck. My black sneakers had yellow laces and bottoms.

"Lucky color? From what, your school?"

"Nah, I graduated from University of Houston."

"Huh, well we're here."

We had pulled up to a decent looking garage. It had a few deep-set oil stains in the pavement. The smell of metal and gasoline wafted through the air. This was a garage where things got done.

"Anyway, what was your name again?"

"Bradley Davis."

"How much time do you think it'll take to fix my engine?"

"Eh, should have it done by closing from what I saw. You can pick it up in the morning if ya want."

"Thanks for the ride. Do you want me to pay now or -?"

"Now if you wouldn't mind."

I paid Bradley and pulled my highlighter yellow backpack over my shoulders. It was time to explore the town and do what I came here for.