Chapter 4
Ford jerked awake when he felt a buzzing on his wrist, his hand automatically going to his gun. He took a moment to fully register the situation and leaned back, pressing a button on his watch with a sigh to turn it off. He had designed it some time ago as a means to wake himself up without over-startling him like a loud alarm clock would, and already informed Stanley and the kids that when he said to give him an hour to rest, to not disturb him.
He rubbed his eyes, looking across the cave at Stanley, who was still sleeping, and felt the familiar twitch in his brain he got when there was something in front of him he didn't understand. Not-so-familiar was the fact that it was his TWIN he was getting the twitch for. He could remember having to never wonder what his brother was thinking.
He could remember a LOT of things, actually. Too much remembering and not enough knowing, after thirty years. He was willing to admit now that Stanley changed more than he thought, and that there were things he thought he knew, that he didn't know at all.
Stanley knew what that creature in the creek was, and how to identify it. He knew how to subdue a fairy swarm. And he took down a gremloblin singlehandedly. Three things Stanford didn't know.
Ford glanced at the bag Stanley brought with him, scooting over to it and quietly unzipping it to take a look at whatever was thrown inside.
The sawed-off shotgun was stashed in such a way that it could be quickly retrieved if necessary. That item was a given, considering the creatures that lingered here. Next was a container of cinnamon. THAT one was more of a mystery. Another can of soda, the jar of berries, a hunting knife, a lighter, a length of cord, a small bottle of Crown Royal, and near the bottom was a book.
Ford frowned. Why would Stanley need a book? To read in case he got bored? He pushed the other things aside to get a better look at it and found that it wasn't a book, but was instead a very old—and quite stained—journal, smaller than his own, but no less worn. He reached down to grab it.
"Twin Rule Number Five, Sixer."
Ford jumped, his hands pulled out of the bag and clasped behind his back in that habit one never quite grows out of when caught red-handed doing something you shouldn't be doing. He looked up, seeing Stanley awake and looking almost amused. "I wasn't….well…"
"Twin Rule Number Five. 'Twins don't go through their twin's personal things'." Stan rolled his shoulders and flexed his hands before arching his back off the wall of the cave, wincing when there was a definite popping.
Ford sat back, wringing his hands together. "…Haven't really followed the Twin Rules since…awhile," he replied. "In any case, you broke it first. You had to, to rearrange my house the way you did."
"Joke's on you, Ford, I didn't go through anything," Stan said, bending his knees a little to stretch them out. "I packed everything I could away. Only things I went through were the journal and any files having to do ONLY with the portal." He reached up, rubbing the back of his head. "…Didn't seem right, looking through your things…"
Ford felt his face heat up slightly. "…I was just curious. About the items you brought," he added hastily. Stan snorted, reaching in and picking up the journal inside.
"You were curious about THIS, you ass," he said, smirking. "Thirty years later and your tell for lying is still talking fast." He flipped it open before Ford could deny it.
Ford saw a jam-packed mess of writing, bad artwork, and miscellaneous fluid stains inside this journal. The only thing that was a constant was before every entry was the message J1Pg with different numbers following every message. "…What the holy hell am I looking at?" he said.
Stan snorted, tapping at the message. "It means, 'Journal One', and the page number that deals with whatever it was I was looking at," he replied. "Sometimes, while I was out and about, I found things out that the journal didn't describe or mention, so I jotted it down. It just became a habit after awhile. I didnt feel right adding on to YOUR journal..."
Ford took the journal, turning through the pages. "…Some things I continued in the other journals," he said, biting back a snort when he found a section on gargoyles with the added note of 'Sonofabitch nearly took my arm off'.
"…Ford, I didn't find the other two journals until this summer."
Ford looked up, frowning. "…What do you mean?" he asked. Stan took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"…I had the mechanics of the portal operational within the year it happened," he said. "It took just another few months to figure out the coding and programming." He gave Ford an almost apologetic look. "…I could have had you out of there in less than two years if I had those other two journals. I searched for thirty years…"
He let out a bark of choking laughter. "…And wouldn't you know it, two kids found 'em. That little brat Gideon found the second one, and Dipper found the third. I swear, Sixer, I could've gone into acting professionally! When Dipper showed me the third journal, it took EVERYTHING I had to play it off as a joke book until I got to the office. I think I cried for an hour in there."
Ford looked up, swallowing hard when he saw Stan's hand shaking slightly.
"…thirty years, Ford…that's thirty years too many…I feel like such a goddamn failure…"
There was a soft silence that rang through the cave. Ford bit his lip, glancing outside and seeing that it had stopped raining. The kids back at the Shack and the mission they were on seemed like such trivial matters, as horrible as it made him feel to think that. He sighed, wringing his hands again.
"….How did you know about the creature in the creek?" he finally said. Stan looked up.
"What?"
"That creature in the creek. How did you know about it?"
Stan snorted, rubbing his face. "I was tracking some bastard gnome who took something of mine. It hopped across the creek, and I followed. Stepped on that thing, and it chased me out of the water." He sat up. "It cant come out of the water, it has gills. But it moves around a lot. It was probably taking a midday snooze in the heat to warm up." He shrugged. "I just thought you knew about it."
Ford flipped through Stan's journal, finding a spot on the creature labeled Crab-Bastard from the Creek, his lips twitching. "…I've never encountered that thing before," he said, looking up at Stan. "You found it before I did."
Stan grinned, sitting upright. "Well don't that just beat all?" he said. Ford smiled back, closing the journal.
"It sure enough does." He handed the journal back to Stan. "…So tell me what else you found out, because cinnamon and whiskey? Really?"
Stan snorted, clapping Ford on the shoulder. "Ford, you'd be surprised."
