This chapter is a product of time and money. Except it's not a product of money at all, and it didn't take me too much time to write either. Of course, I spent much of today in the car with my brother while he was driving, so I had a lot of time to write and nothing better to do.
I'm very pleased at the support I've gotten so far for this story. As of about 4 PM, I had 75 views on this story, as well as 4 favorites and 9 follows. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
BRADLEY CLARION
I didn't have any dreams while I was asleep. I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep until my father tapped my shoulder a little later, whispering in my ear.
"Wake up, Bradley" he said. "It's time".
I opened my eyes, and almost immediately felt rather embarrassed, even though some would argue that I should not have been. I'd let myself nod off like that, but I suppose that's what happens when you've had such a tiring day.
"Okay" I replied, sitting up on the bed and then swinging my legs off of it. "When are we leaving?"
"Pretty much right now. So you'd better get your shoes on, because they don't want to wait too long for us".
That's right, I remembered. We're going to do the gear check once we arrive at the IRAA headquarters.
My heart began pounding at the prospect. Now that we were actually going to be meeting the guides of the expedition, as well as the other travelers, it seemed more real.
"How many people are there going to be on the trip?" I asked my dad as he was putting on his shoes.
"Two guides and four other clients. And, like I said, they don't want to wait for us very long".
We left Room 547 and made our way down the stairwell to the lobby. The elevator was full, and neither of us had any desire to wait for it. I suppose that in that respect, I took after my father; both of us were impatient men who sometimes had to always be moving.
This doesn't always mean moving in a physical sense, mind you. Sometimes it just means that our minds have to be occupied at all times, or else we're going to get very restless indeed. It's not exactly a healthy trait to have when you're stuck on a plane for ten hours straight.
"The cab's here" my dad told me as we passed the front desk. The woman who had checked us in half an hour earlier was no longer behind the counter, so she must have finished her shift or something. I wasn't going to complain; I didn't need any distractions like that.
This taxi was a lot smaller than the one that had taken us to the hotel in the first place. There was only room enough for the two of us, and it felt rather cramped to me, since I have rather long legs.
"Good evening, Mr. Clarion" the driver said, presumably to my father. "You're going to the IRAA HQ downtown?"
My father nodded. "Yes, please get us there as quickly as possible". When the driver gave him a weird look, he qualified that statement with, "Well, within reason. Don't break any laws".
The driver chuckled. "Will do, Mr. Clarion".
As the cab began driving us towards the downtown area of Atticus, I noticed that the sun was starting to set over the ocean. Since Alola was so close to the equator, the length of the day was fairly consistent throughout the year. It was only about half past six in the evening, and yet the flaming disk that we call the sun was getting close to the horizon.
True to his promise, the cabbie drove us there pretty quickly. I wouldn't say that I ever felt unsafe, but it was clear that he was going at exactly the speed limit, at least as much as traffic conditions allowed him to.
I tried to take in as much of the city as possible. At one point, we drove along the street that divided the old section of Atticus from the newer section in which we were staying.
"Wow, that's an impressive stadium" I said, pointing out a structure that appeared to be the Ancient Stadium that the first taxi driver had told us about. "Is that what the other driver was talking about?"
My father nodded. "I've seen pictures; in fact, I've been there once. It's pretty incredible; they held the first Olympics there or something, all the way back in...oh, it was a long time ago, for sure".
Sadly, we only got a few more seconds to appreciate the view of the stadium before traffic started moving again.
After about twenty minutes, we arrived at our destination. It was a building that slightly resembled a hotel, but I knew that it was really an office building of sorts. That was how my dad had described it to me.
It rose a good twenty stories above the street, making it twice as tall as the Alolan Palace. Due to this, it seemed like a more imposing presence, although it was probably less the building itself and more what it meant that we were there.
This is it. It's actually happening.
After paying the cabbie, we got out of the taxi and entered the building. I was very glad that it had air conditioning, as it had been rather hot in the cab.
I'd better enjoy it while I can. This isn't a luxury that I'll be afforded when we're in the jungle.
The interior of the building looked much like that of my father's office building next to the Greater Pastoria Museum back home. There were several ancient Alolan paintings adorning the walls, including one I recognized very well.
It was a painting of a young man hunched over as he grew large yellow ears. There was of course no animation to the image, but he appeared to be in extreme agony. The painting was called Braixen's Curse.
The painting might have been a couple thousand years old, and nobody knew for sure who had produced it. Even so, it was a rather chilling sight to behold, the idea that someone could turn into a Braixen like that.
Of course, it must be said that I had never personally believed that such a thing was possible. I harbored no beliefs in the supernatural at all, and it would be fair to call me a skeptic. If you're going to tell me that ancient forms of magic still exist today, you're going to need to provide some serious evidence.
Ah, but enough about that.
We walked up to the receptionist's desk, and my father said, "Good evening".
This receptionist was a man who looked as though he might have been my dad's brother, my uncle. He looked pretty similar to my father, although he wasn't wearing glasses at the moment and his hair was a decent bit grayer.
"Good evening. Who are you guys, and what is your purpose?"
My father didn't hesitate. "We are Brendan and Bradley Clarion, and we're here for the gear check and dinner with the expedition heading for the Temple of the Fox tomorrow".
Wait...Temple of the Fox? My father never told me it was called that.
"Nice to meet you two," the receptionist replied. Turning to me, he said, "You sure look like your father, Bradley".
It warmed my heart to hear him say that. I was proud to have Brendan Clarion as a father, so it was an honor to hear these words, as though the receptionist expected me to become just like him eventually.
"Well, the meeting is in room 7C. That's on the seventh floor, in the northeastern end of the building. Good luck on your expedition".
"Thank you" my father replied, taking a bow with his hands pressed together, much like a monk performing a religious ritual. "Let's go, Bradley," he told me.
We made our way to the stairwell and climbed the seven flights of stairs to reach the correct room. I suppose that we could have taken the elevator and saved some time that way, but it would be good to build up some lung capacity for the trek. At least, that was the way I saw it.
Of course, for the last several weeks, I'd been training for this. Not just mentally and emotionally, but physically as well; I was lucky enough to have a treadmill in my basement at home, and I'd turned the belt onto an angle in order to simulate walking up a long hill. Therefore, I liked to think that I was as prepared as I could be given the short notice.
"Welcome!" a voice bellowed from inside Room 7C as we approached.
I saw that we had entered a room in the corner of the building, from which the street was visible far below. Four other men were in the room, each of them with a duffel bag. (We had brought our own duffel bags to the IRAA headquarters).
The voice had come from a short man who was maybe in his late thirties. He had black hair and tanned skin, probably from living in Alola for much of his life. He was standing next to a man who looked about his age and similar in almost every way.
They're identical twins.
"Now that we're all here", the short man told us, "we can conduct the gear check".
Seeing that all four of the other men there were standing behind their duffel bags in a semicircle, my father and I followed suit. I began to feel very self-conscious, because I was clearly the youngest one there by far.
The twin who had not addressed my father and I turned to the half-dozen of us and announced, "Welcome to the gear check for Expedition 33B to the Temple of the Fox. There are some things I would like all of you to know before we depart tomorrow".
The other twin nodded. "My name is Matthew Chelan, and this is my twin brother, Michael. You can call us Matt and Mike if that's what you're comfortable with. Let's take attendance".
I barely managed to resist rolling my eyes. Really, TAKING ATTENDANCE? What am I, ten years old?
"Terrence Santorini?"
"Here".
"Kenneth Weldworth?"
"Here".
"Patrick Saint Lawrence?"
"Here. That's Dr. Saint Lawrence, for future reference".
"Duly noted. Christopher Ruby?"
"Here".
"Brendan Clarion?"
"Here" my father told Matt.
"Bradley Clarion".
"Here" I replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. I didn't want to be perceived as a weakling even though I was the youngest one there. I felt as though I had something to prove to the other men.
"It's a very good thing", Mike said, "that we have a doctor here. Dr. Saint Lawrence here has agreed to help treat any wounds that may come up. He'll be the de facto trail physician, for lack of a better term".
Another man, the one who had been identified as Kenneth Weldworth, asked, "What happens if the doctor gets sick?"
Oh, PLEASE don't put that into the air.
"Then Mike and I will provide any treatment that is required. We are also trained in field medicine, and we'll do whatever it takes to keep you guys alive. That said, there are still a lot of things to keep in mind just so that we're all safe".
Mike nodded. "We'll go over the ground rules before the gear check. First of all, we'll be hiking fairly close to the Phoenix River, which is going to be the main source of water. However, the water must be purified, which is why we'll bring iodine and bleach. Boiling water also purifies it without having to wait the half hour".
From what I'd heard, water treated with iodine or bleach tasted horrible, but it was much better than dying of dehydration, and better still than getting sick from any parasites or bacteria in the water.
It's also worth noting that even though I generally wasn't a very good listener, I was determined to pay attention as well as I could to the Chelan twins. I didn't want to miss something that might end up saving my life, or that of my father.
"It's very important," Mike continued, "to drink at least a gallon of purified water a day. It's very hot and humid in the jungle, and that can result in dehydration if you aren't careful. Since we can't get you to a hospital if you go really downhill, it's imperative to prevent this from happening.
"During the drive to the start of the trek, Matt and I will give you a briefing about the types of wild Pokemon that lurk in the Alolan jungle. Some of these are benign and not going to harm us; others can be extremely dangerous, and you really don't want to run into them".
I thought about the repellent that we'd sprayed on our clothes before we'd left. It would definitely come in handy, for I'd done my research on insect-borne diseases; none of them sounded pleasant in the least. I sincerely hoped that the other men on the trip had done the same.
"The last thing I'll warn you guys about are infections. In the tropical, humid environment, infection can run rampant. A little thing blows up into a huge deal if you're not careful. If you get any cuts, you need to tell us immediately, because if you get an infection while you're on the trek, we are not responsible".
I knew that this talk was supposed to reassure us, make us realize that we were going to be taken care of if anything happened. This wasn't my main takeaway from it, though.
Instead, hearing about all the natural hazards on the trail made me even more apprehensive about the trip. I was increasingly worried that one of these scenarios would come true, even though we were taking every possible precaution to prevent them.
After he was through with talking about all of the dangers present in the expedition, Mike then began telling us what we needed to have in our duffel bags. "If you lack any of these items", he told us, "then you'll need to get them before tomorrow morning. There are plenty of places in town where you can find hiking boots, thermal underwear, and stuff like that".
Fortunately, since my father and I had gone over the packing list very carefully prior to our departure from Sinnoh, we weren't missing anything. Neither was anyone else, either, so as soon as we'd gone through the checklist, Matt smiled.
"Now that we're done with the gear check, I'll take you guys to the private dining room downstairs. We've cooked up the last luxurious meal you're going to have for a while, so I suggest you do your best to enjoy it".
The private dining room at the IRAA HQ was pretty nice.
It might not have been as glamorous as the restaurants in the Alolan Palace's lobby, but the dining table was still made of mahogany, and the cutlery looked fairly fancy as well. On a table against the wall, several dishes sat in those metal catering containers you see at formal events.
There were fried chicken ribs, steak, and macaroni and cheese on one end of the table. The other end held bread rolls, assorted roasted vegetables, and a giant cake. My mouth started watering as soon as I smelled the food.
As soon as all of us had entered the room, we were allowed to line up and serve ourselves with food. I got some steak, some macaroni and cheese, and a few ladles of vegetables before sitting down next to my father, who was eyeing his food like he couldn't wait to dig in. (We'd been told, per usual table manners, to not start eating until the host sat down, the hosts in this case being Matt and Mike).
"All right", Matt said, as soon as everyone had served themselves and sat down at the table. "Dig in!"
I took a bite of the steak, and I was almost immediately in heaven. It was the perfect combination of juicy and yet savory at the same time. It was pretty well-done, which I was grateful for. Sadly, there was no ketchup.
(Yes, I prefer my steak well-done with ketchup. Don't judge me, okay?)
My father sat to my right. On my left was the man who had been identified as Christopher Ruby. He was maybe in his mid-thirties, with glasses and thin brown hair and a beard. He looked nice enough, so I decided to strike up a conversation with him.
"Christopher, right?" I asked him.
He chuckled. "You can just call me Chris. Mike and Matt are always so formal, except when it comes to their own names".
"Okay, then. Chris". I didn't know why at the time, but I found myself to be speaking very timidly even though I shouldn't have anything to fear from this man.
He means me no harm, I told myself. Also, you feel as though you have something to prove. So act like it!
"What was it you wanted to ask me?" he replied. He didn't sound annoyed at all, more confused than anything else.
"How hard are these expeditions? As in, how tiring?" I hadn't been 100% sure that this is what I meant to say, but that's what came out of my mouth. I simply hadn't been able to decide what made sense to talk about with this stranger.
Chris laughed, seeming to nearly choke on a bite of fried chicken. "Oh, they're tiring, all right," he replied. "If you wanted a nice relaxing beach vacation, this type of trip isn't for you. But if you've done five of them like me, you'll find it extremely rewarding".
I myself had never been an adrenaline junkie. I'd never derived pleasure from fear, and I was the first to admit this. But I could see what Chris meant by that; to him, the journey was truly its own reward.
"I'm kind of nervous; this is my first one".
Why did I just blurt it out like that? Not a wise move, Bradley, not a wise move at all.
Chris chuckled again. "Well, there's a first time for everything. The first time I did one of these, I was pretty scared as well. But it gets easier".
After that, we continued eating. I remained silent for most of the rest of the meal, but I could see the others chatting with one another. My father was even joining in on some of the conversations, as though all of them had been friends for years.
Which, of course, they probably had been.
Eventually, I decided to cut myself a slice of the cake. Even though there were eight people in the room, the cake was large enough that it was probably meant for more than one group to share. Perhaps the whole HQ was celebrating the start of our trek.
Well...I suppose that's worth celebrating.
The cake itself was magnificent, yellow and red velvet swirls covered with green and brown frosting, probably symbolizing the most common colors you saw in the middle of the jungle. I practically inhaled one slice before going back for another.
Once everyone had finished eating (which took quite a while due to all the chatting), Matt (or was it Mike? Like I said, they were identical) stood up from the table once more.
"Okay, everyone. It is now nearly nine in the evening. You are to arrive at this building by five o'clock tomorrow morning, or else we will leave without you. You don't want that, do you?"
After the six of us all shook our heads, Matt nodded. "Thought so. This meeting is now disbanded. Enjoy your last night in Atticus, and get a good night's sleep, because you will need it".
Once my father had said his goodbyes to the other adventurers, we left the building and got in a taxi that would take us back to the Alolan Palace.
"Well?" my father asked me, five minutes into the ride. "What did you think? Any first impressions?"
"Chris seemed pretty nice," I replied. That was the first time I'd said anything the whole way back; I'd had a hard time thinking of what to say. It was the first thing that came to my mind.
My father nodded. "Chris Ruby and I have been good friends for years. But he's right; the hike is not easy, not in the least. I'm glad you've been training for it".
As the taxi made its way through the old town and back into the newer region of Atticus, we were silent once more. Not a single other word was spoken until we got back to the hotel.
"Bradley", my father said as we were entering the hotel, "there's something I'd like to tell you".
I instantly felt rather nervous. In the past, when my father told me that, it usually had meant bad news. Sometimes it meant I was in trouble. Rarely was it a good sign.
But I turned to my dad's face, all the same.
"I'm very proud of you. It takes quite a lot of courage to take on an adventure like this one, so far from home. It's normal to be nervous, but anyone who tells you that they've never been nervous is lying".
I felt my cheeks blush a bit. "Thanks, Dad".
"You're welcome, my son. And remember this: The higher you go, the further there is to fall".
I wouldn't know just how correct he was until the next day, but I decided not to dwell on those words. You might accuse me of cherry-picking what I wanted to hear from my dad, but I preferred to focus on how proud he was of me.
We took the elevator back up to Room 547; this time, both of us were too exhausted to think of climbing the stairs while carrying the duffel bags.
As soon as we got to the room, I let out a huge yawn. Everything that had happened that day had the cumulative effect of tuckering me out to no small degree. I hadn't realized just how tired I was until I sat down on the bed and felt almost too exhausted to get dressed in my pajamas or brush my teeth.
"You should shower, Bradley," my father told me. "Otherwise you'll feel really gross tomorrow, and it's the last shower you'll get for a while".
"Unless it rains" I replied, chuckling slightly. I was trying to be funny, but my father shook his head in response.
"Even if it rains. If it does rain, and you're not inside the tent, you're going to have a bad time. Trust me on this".
I figured that there was a story behind that statement, but I didn't ask him. The last thing I wanted was more reason for anxiety.
Per my father's recommendation, I took a long, hot shower and scrubbed my whole body with the pineapple-scented soap provided by the hotel. After that, I changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth.
As soon as I got underneath the covers, I had a very strange dream.
I found myself in the driveway of an enormous manor. It led to a large garage, which I began walking towards.
Why did I walk towards the garage? Well, I was curious, and, besides, it was a lucid dream, meaning that I knew I was dreaming and that I would be able to wake up whenever I wanted.
I didn't normally have these types of dreams; prior to this, I rarely remembered the visions that danced through my brain at night. But I knew this one was a dream, and I was going to take advantage of that. I was going to see what this mansion had in store for me.
Knowing that it was only just a dream gave me more courage, the type of courage I would need for a real-life trek through the jungle. I tried to open the door to the garage.
It didn't open, and I looked to the side of said door and discovered that it was protected by a passcode lock. Almost immediately, the right number came to me: 12213119.
That's such a random set of numbers. Why would it mean anything else? I mean, I guess that it's a dream, and nothing is impossible in dreams, is it?
I punched in the code and waited for the door to unlock...it did. I entered the garage...and that's the last thing I remember in the dream.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, I opened my eyes to find my father trying to shake me awake.
"What...what's the matter?"
"It's 4:15! We're supposed to be there at five, remember?"
I cursed my decision not to set an alarm the previous night. In my defense, I'd been too tired to think of doing that; at least, that's the excuse I would have given if my father hadn't continued shouting at me.
"You'd better get ready!"
I wasn't afraid of my father; he wasn't abusive in the least, but when he wanted me to do something, he could be pretty firm about it when he wanted to be. I didn't want to cross him, not least because doing so would mean I didn't get to see the Temple of the Fox.
Somehow, I was able to get ready for the day in just ten minutes. During that time, my father called a cab, the driver of which agreed to meet us at 4:30 in the lobby, and I sat back down on the bed, trying to process everything.
The most puzzling thing was the dream I'd just woken up from. As my father and I left the hotel room, I couldn't help but ponder what exactly it might mean.
So I was outside a manor...but I couldn't get inside. And I knew it was a dream the whole time. That's definitely one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had.
As we met the cab driver in the lobby, I looked around at the restaurants and gift shop that had not yet been opened for the day.
It's not a big deal. After this is all over, we can hang out and relax in Atticus. It's not the end of the world that we're leaving now.
Little did I know, things wouldn't turn out as I had expected.
I can't wait for the next chapter. Things are about to get real, and I just know it's going to be a fun one to write. I just know it.
Thank you to everyone who has read this story thus far. I can't wait to dive deeper and explore the world of Bradley Clarion.
Until next time, Lucas Whitefur