Part 8
I Remember California
Summary: Tri and Jade arrive.
The memorial plaque at Indian Wells:
"Indian water hole on Joseph R. Walker trail of 1834 where Manly-Jayhawker parties of 1849 found their first water after five days of travel from Argus Range. During 1860's was site of stage and freight station from Los Angeles to Coso and Cerro Gordo mines."
I thought it was important to reserve the plaque information.
Anyway, as we reluctantly left Indian Wells, the desert again surrounded us with the Sierras to the west and the expanse of the China Lake Naval Weapons Station off to the east, and Death Valley beyond to the immediate southeast. We merged onto 345 and continued north. With wide open vistas, I pushed the accelerator and had us cruising close to ninety miles per hour. Jade sat back in comfort, a small smile on her lips.
Pleased at her expression, I had to ask, "What's with that look?"
"I like speed, Vega! Push it…"
I did just that and soon we were doing over a hundred miles an hour. I tried to go faster but Mariska started to shake too much so I dropped back to ninety.
"Good call." I smiled at her for a second after that comment before turning my attention back to the road.
There was no traffic. As before, only an occasional car sitting on the shoulder or even in the middle of the road. After the first couple of heart-breaking scenes of people dead in their car from the Fever – even before we reached the Valley the day before - we conspicuously avoided looking. By this point, it had become second nature. In a few months, we would see but didn't even react to the sight of skeletons in dead cars.
After my speed 'test', Jade's silence was almost overwhelming. For some reason, that day it was worse than the day before. I had no idea what she was feeling after killing that kid. I had no words of comfort beyond thanking her for saving me. And regret that he died.
When I said so again, Jade growled, "Screw him! He was a lowlife who would've killed you…if you were lucky! I'm not wasting any tears on him… I… I just…I hate leaving Esther behind!"
"Jade, so do I! I wish she was willing to go but she had her reasons... Anyway what could we have done? Force her to go with us at gunpoint? Taking her away from her home and her husband and friends?"
"But they're dead! God, Vega…"
"No Jade. I don't believe that. I think Mom is still with me. And Trina... Aunt Sophie… My grandmother. You have your own family with you too. You can't see them but… Well, it's a matter of faith. And our friends, Beck, Andre and Robbie." I pointedly left Cat off that list.
With a sigh, Jade conceded the point, "Whatever… And Robbie's not my friend."
Still, with this self-imposed guilt trip hanging over us, the silence was more oppressive and only led me to follow my train of thought back to the horror of what we left behind. The horror of a nearly-dead world we had inherited.
After passing Owens Lake - practically a dry lakebed since the water from the Owens River had been diverted to L.A. in the 1920s - we came up on the Manzanar Internment Camp site. From our modern history class, I remembered it was one of the dozen or so Japanese-American internment camps set up during the Second World War, all in inhospitable locations like this. And a very shameful reason for fame.
Before I could give much thought to that location, there was a loud bang as the SUV lurched hard to the left with a flopping sound coming from outside the cab. I started to lose control. I lifted my foot from the gas pedal but avoided hitting the brake. Shifting into neutral as I was fighting the steering wheel, which seemed to want to take over, I slowly eased down on the brake and managed to stop.
Jade looked whiter than she usually did. I was probably close to that shade myself. I had to force my hands to unclench when I released the steering wheel and still found them curled almost into claws. We got out, on shaky legs, then we both leaned on opposite sides of Mariska's hood, forcing our breathing and heart rates under control. "J-Jade… Are…are you alright?"
"Yeah. I'm…okay. Vega, you did okay there." I smiled at the compliment until Jade had to add, "Especially since you only have a learner's permit…"
I finally managed a weak response as I flipped her a crooked bird (due to my still-clenched fingers), "Ha. Ha. And ha…"
Jade actually laughed and I found myself joining her. It was an oddly cleansing act. We calmed down and looked at each other with smiles on our faces. Jade is really pretty when she smiles…
"Uh, Tori, I see the problem."
I walked around the front of the truck to see what she was talking about. The front, passenger side tire was flat and partially shredded. And I suddenly remembered Mom saying the truck needed new tires. I almost said to Jade we should call Triple A. For you future people, AAA, the Automobile Association of America, was sort of insurance for drivers for situations like this or bad batteries and more.
Again, I found myself pining for the good old days. Then I realized those good old days weren't even two weeks past.
Fortunately, Mariska had a real spare tire, not one of those donuts a lot of modern cars have. They were called donuts since they were so much smaller than regular tires. They also had a more limited life span once they were used so you had to get that bad tire replaced fairly quickly.
A tire change, which can normally take a half-hour or so, took us over three hours, thanks to the supplies that covered the spare. That had to be unloaded before we could open the space that held the tire and jack.
We finished – yes, I actually helped Jade with the frozen lug nuts – and took a few minutes to relax before reloading the truck. That was another hour or so stuck by the side of the road, with absolutely no one driving past.
As we finished packing up Mariska, a car slowly pulled up and a man got out. Jade and I had our pistols in our hands, ready.
"Whoa! I…didn't… Listen, I saw you on the side of the road and thought you might need some help…" He stopped, his hands up slightly, palms out. The man was in his thirties I'd guess, a little on the heavy side but didn't look like a danger. Still, I was relieved when Jade spoke.
"We're cool," Jade replied. "Thanks, but you can keep going."
"Okay. I'll head on. I was just trying to be… But given the overall situation, I understand. Never mind." He turned back towards his car then stopped, his hands still up near his shoulders. "Listen, I'm heading south to a place I have in the Mogollon Rim area in northern Arizona. Actually, it's my brother's place but… Anyway, it's a pretty big house with its own plentiful groundwater and solar-generated electricity."
"So?"
"I thought… Well, if you don't have anywhere else to go, I'm inviting you to come with me." He saw the look in Jade's eyes and nodded, "Sorry. Don't mean any funny business. Sorry. But I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. I'll just be on my way."
We stood there and watched as his car disappeared to the south. And we waited some more to make sure he wasn't coming back. Finally, Jade said, "He may be legit but I don't trust anyone right now. Except you." I felt my heart warm at that statement. "He might also just be out of sight waiting for us to move."
"Okay. You have better eyes than me, you keep an eye out while I drive."
"Oh, I will…" Jade added, "But don't stop unless you have to."
We decided to wait to see if he came back. While waiting, we took time to stroll along the road in front of the old internment camp for a few hundred yards, never letting Mariska out of our sight. Fortunately, the landscape around the camp was flat, arid land and it gave us a chance to relax the unused muscles we abused changing the tire.
Jade explained the history, most of which I knew since we were in the same class. However, I let her play tour guide rather than say anything. It was good the hear her open up again.
Outside of a visitor's center, Barracks 14, the post office structure and the MP post with a replica of one of the guard towers - all restored or erected by the National Park Service after the fact – there were only traces of decaying buildings and the old camp roads. That was all that remained of the original camp after seventy years. In addition to the recreated structures, there was a memorial stele, the white sides covered with Japanese ideograms with several smaller rock steles surrounded by wilted flowers and ribbons. Along with that, there was a small rock garden and Japanese-style wooden bridge spanning a dusty water cut.
Manzanar was one of several camps used to house all the Japanese-Americans, men, women and children, in the western United States after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. As the U.S. was forced into the Second World War, the worry was infiltration and, even worse, espionage and sabotage. All completely unfounded and all the result of blind prejudice, hatred and propaganda. Still tens of thousands of Issei (Japanese-born immigrants) and Nisei (first generation Japanese Americans) were rounded up and interred in several concentration camps around the country.
Nothing on this scale was done to the millions of German-American or Italian-Americans in the country during the war.
Jade said, in the manner of a class recitation, "A year or so after they were relocated, some of the male Japanese-Americans were allowed to enlist and fought valiantly in Italy and France. The 44snd Infantry Regiment is the most decorated outfit in American military history."
"Like the Tuskegee Airmen," I offered. This was a fighter and bomber group made up of African-American pilots who amassed an amazing combat record in Europe during that war. The black troops couldn't fight with or fly with the white troops but, they proved they were as good, if not better, than the white flyers. Bomber groups actually requested the crews from the 332nd Fighter Group to fly escort on their bombing runs over Occupied Europe.
"Yeah, you're right. Much as I love the music, movies and other things from the '30s and '40s, that blind racism was a horrible legacy for the Greatest Generation."
Manzanar is a semi-arid, barren, windy place. I couldn't imagine being forced to give up my house, my possessions and my lifestyle and live there in long barracks like a P.O.W. with no way out.
Suddenly. for obvious reasons, I did know what it was like to lose your home and end up in a strange place with none of the amenities I had become accustomed to. The cause didn't matter – government-sanctioned forced resettlement or an end-of-the-world disaster - losing everything is…intense. And extremely emotional. My eyes filled with tears, sadness at this older example of man's inhumanity to himself combined with my own losses.
Before Jade could see, I wiped my eyes and blinked several times before I looked at the markers and the rebuilt structures meant to show what happened here. But now, as shameful and embarrassing a place as it was, it'll be just another unknown mystery for the descendants of the survivors of this plague.
"It's bad that places like this, and even worse places like the Nazi death camps, will rot away and be forgotten. The lessons of history will have to be relearned, I guess," Jade said quietly, echoing my thoughts. Sadly I could only nod.
Leaving that place of shame, we didn't stop - outside of needing to water the dirt, so to speak, which we had to do after all the coffee earlier and were on the road.
Also there was no sign of Thirty-something, even though he was heading south. "Guess he was on the level."
I had to smile as I said that. I sounded like an old cop movie, which Jade noted, "Fairly film noir Vega. You're full of surprises."
"You have no idea…" Jade gazed at me, but I didn't add anything more.
As I drove, she said, "Notice how quiet it all is? No traffic sounds, no aircraft… Not that I expect there was much air traffic here. Still…"
"The birds sound great though," I replied. "Not that there are a lot of birds here…"
"Figures you'd find a positive…" Jade chuckled evilly, appreciating my attempt at a joke.
Thanks to over four hours near Manzanar and the mountains to the west, it was already twilight. We thought about heading on but decided to stop for gas, at least.
Like Santa Clarita, in Bishop, we found a gas station with a somewhat greedy attendant – we figured we'd be better off saving the spare fuel as long as there was power to pump it from the underground tanks. She only charged us thirty dollars a gallon for gas. I guess these people didn't realize how worthless money really was since the power was still on. Or maybe the pre-plague cost of living in that area...
I guess I could understand her reasoning. Everything had to be okay. The power was on, right? How wrong they were. But...in a small town like that, they hadn't witnessed what Jade and I saw back home. At least not on the same scale.
Night was coming on so we talked about finding a place to stay overnight. The previous days had been extremely exhausting, emotionally, and we had been fighting those internal emotions all day.
"Jade, let's stay here tonight. I know it's kinda early and we can get into the mountains but… I'm not sure I can find the camp entrance in the dark anyway."
"Yeah, that's fine, Vega." I was glad Jade didn't object but I wasn't surprised either. She was as tired as I was.
We found an apparently abandoned Best Western Motel. No one at the front desk answered as I rang the bell. Jade made even more noise, "HEY! Anyone here? We need a room, dammit!"
When no one came out, Jade vaulted the desk and grabbed a key to one of the first floor rooms. I shook my head but didn't say anything. She saw that and said, "Throw a few bucks on the desk before we leave…"
As I said, most of Bishop still had power, including the motel, but there was nothing on the room's TV or the clock radio except static. Even the repetitive EAS broadcasts were off the air.
Like the night before in Indian Wells, we unloaded the truck. This time I did the heavy lifting while Jade stood guard, openly cradling her sawed-off shotgun but Jade had to help with the jerry cans. Tiring as it was, I definitely agreed with her reasoning: "Hey, the chick at the gas station may have friends!"
The room had a kitchenette setup - a small microwave and a small coffee maker near the sink. We nuked a couple of leftover burgers from Esther and had some still-cool soda we liberated from an already looted soda machine.
Shortly after we finished, Jade said she had to check on something. Before I had a chance to ask her what or even to pull my boots back on to accompany her, she was gone with Mariska. I panicked when the SUV started and pulled out. I actually chased it for about a block. What was Jade thinking? Was she running? Why did she run? Where could she run?
So many questions but, deep down, I was sure she'd be back.
I started to get worried after an hour. The darkness had fully descended on Bishop and, as the hour got later and with nothing to really distract me, beyond a Gideon's Bible, I became more worried. Finally, Jade came back in. She was grimy and held up a hand before she grabbed some clothes and took a long shower.
Once she came out in pajama pants and a t-shirt, she merely said, "I'm pretty wiped, Vega. Let's just go to bed."
Rather than argue, I nodded even as I internally choked down my curiosity. Sleeping in separate beds, we again ended up in the same bed before morning. We both needed the comfort of a warm body.
As before, the next morning, nothing was said. We made a cursory breakfast of cereal from the motel's supply, set aside for the complimentary continental breakfast in the lobby, with some stale pastries. Fortunately, the milk was still a few days from going bad.
The rest of the dry cereal, oat meal and (ugh!) cream of wheat, we added to our growing food stash. Jade made coffee in the large, electric percolator in the lobby. We made a couple of more pots and topped off our thermos bottles.
While I was in charge of filling the thermoses, Jade raided the rooms for coffee packets with the master key she found behind the front desk. Then she reloaded the truck as I stood guard. Still have no idea when she got the keys from the manager's office - must've been when she came back the night before.
Looking at the truck, I realized we had four new tires. As she came out with another load, I asked, "Jade? Where did the tires come from?"
"I remember seeing a Firestone dealership as we drove through town. I went back there and liberated new tires. I even replaced the spare. Mounted them on new rims with that machine they have and balanced them so..." Seeing the unvoiced question on my face, she added, "I have…had a cousin who owned a garage in Burbank. She let me hang out there before I got really involved at Hollywood Arts. Even got to help out on some of the work. Learned a lot about things like tires and… Just never bothered to remember the machine names."
"Jade!?" She ignored my yell until I hugged her in gratitude. After a long moment, she broke my clasp then went back for the next load. I realized how lucky I was to have Jade with me. How much luckier than I originally figured.
Soon we were reloaded and I had to say the only thing I could, "Thank you, Jade."
She nodded then Jade disappeared back into the motel for several minutes. Triumphantly, Jade finally emerged with several cases of the small coffee pouches from the motel stores on a two-wheel cart. I laughed and shook my head.
"From the maids' closets." A pause then she said, "What? I left the decaf behind!" All I could do was laugh. I refused to tell her she could mix the decaf and regular coffee to stretch out the amount of coffee she could get.
Anyway, after an hour or so, we were past Mono Lake and on the highway beyond to Sonora Junction where we headed west rather than taking the turnoff towards Lake Tahoe.
"Hey, Vega?" Jade broke the silence which had been the norm for most of the drive.
"I... I'll never forget...killing that kid... It'll rot in my psyche until it die...
"Um..."
"Tori... I don't blame you or... It's just something you can't understand until..."
"Yeah, Jade?"
She grew quiet for several minutes until...
"Wanna see a ghost town? Bode is only a few miles east of here. Always sounded like a pretty cool place."
"Ghost town? Why..."
"It's a national historic site. An old gold mining town abandoned in the '20s. Most of the buildings are still there with furnishings and some old rusted-out cars, plates on the table in the dining room. The bar even has a pool table with balls and cues and glasses..."
"Jade, why go see a ghost town? We just saw Manzanar. Anyway, the entire world is on it's the way to becoming a ghost town."
I felt Jade's gaze on me and I glanced over. Instead of anger or resentment, her face was blank. Then she simply nodded and turned back to the semi-arid landscape. I knew I blew it. Badly.
"Jade? I'm sorry…"
"No problem," Jade replied in an oddly flat tone. I suddenly felt bad, like I had hurt her.
"We can go to Bode. Just tell me where…"
"No, we have to get to the camp," came the reply in the same flat tone.
Suddenly I realized that entire conversation was a result of Jade's resurgent fear and remorse over the killing two days before and having to leave Esther behind on top of the end of the world. A way of trying to cope with everything with distraction.
I wanted to say something more but all I could think of was an apology and that wasn't what was needed. I wished I knew what I could do after the…incident the day before yesterday. It was why she was bringing up so many obscure things, like Manzanar the day before, trying to ignore what had happened outside her house. And, of course, what was happening all around us.
But it was so un-Jade-like.
I was scared.
And I definitely had no answer to that.
Meantime, we started to climb the eastern face of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We passed a couple of roads leading to skiing meccas – Mammoth Mountain and June Mountain Ski Area. I had friends at Sherman who had raved about the slopes at Mammoth.
At Sonora Junction, we turned northwest onto Route 108 - Mono Way - and further up into the Sierras. The road quickly turned to the southwest for a stretch before reversing itself. There were no long straightaways along this route. Lots of veering to just about every point of the compass, following the natural mountain pass by way of switchbacks.
But there were also long, curving stretches that followed the terrain
This was the route through the Sonora Pass, the second highest pass through the High Sierras. Don't ask. By now you know I have picked up some worthless trivia over those past few years. Especially about the late, great state of California.
Like 'Mountain Jam' by the Allman Brothers, we left most of the fir trees behind a few hours before in the semi-arid region as we did pass the tree line, rising higher into the mountains. Remembering that song gave me a shiver mixed with warmth (memories of Dad and his music) and fear and regret (my unprotected drive through L.A. a couple of days before).
Soon, we crested the pass. Crossing the summit of the Sierras, the road would eventually lead down past the western tree line and into much more heavily wooded terrain.
Before that, just over a mile after turning onto 108, we passed a Marine Corps post - the sign identified it as the United States Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center. The eastern cluster had buildings with red slate roofs. Past that, there was a landing strip with a couple of helicopters and an Osprey on the tarmac. The strip ran parallel to the highway. Behind were several buildings of various sizes. The buildings near the airstrip had dark shingled roofs. The gate post looked deserted as did the rest of the facility. I made mental note of it for supplies. And weapons.
I didn't realize it, but I had slowed significantly as we came up on the post. But there was a benefit…
Jade, who often still went into a funk, did seem to perk up a bit again. She drank some coffee for the first time since we left Bishop and even offered me some from the first thermos. I didn't really want any but willingly took it. It was still hot. That action seemed to enliven Jade somewhat. The tightness in my chest eased some by this.
As if she was psychic, Jade said, "Vega, we need to come back here. We can get more advanced weapons, ammunition, supplies and winter gear."
"Damn!" I muttered. "How did she know…" In a louder voice, I agreed, "You're right!" I packed clothes but, being in southern California, winters were never too bad and I hadn't any outer wear heavier than a couple of jackets and a thin, down jacket. I lost my only heavy winter coat when I left it at Big Bear after a family ski trip the previous January.
"I'm always right, Vega. You'd do well to remember that." There was the Jade I know.
Then, as if she read my thoughts again, Jade said, "And yeah, I'll need some winter clothes too. Bet they have a couple of sno-cats we can use."
"Yeah..."
We discussed things to look for when we raided the Marines for supplies. The give and take was almost like old times. I'd point out something like, "We need to get all the ammunition we can." Followed by Jade's "No duh!" Same with gasoline, medical supplies, clothing, shoes.
To be fair, Jade might bring up something like "Don't forget soap." Or, "Toilet paper. And sanitary napkins."
Much as I wanted to be snide back to Jade, my response was usually along the lines of, "Yeah, good point."
We even discussed the possibility of moving in there. But I knew Sutter, which is fairly isolated. The Marine base was butting up to the highway and pretty open. If it only had a real stockade surrounding it… As it was, the base was not as safe as Sutter, being along a state highway. At least in my opinion. Jade's response was, "Lemme check this Camp Sutter out before I decide."
"Fair enough."
Even before we reached Sonora's summit, we passed many signs warning the road was closed in winter. It wasn't even really summer yet so I wasn't in a hurry to consider winter and all its ramifications. But I did like the fact that, if we were stuck in the mountains in winter, there was one less way to get to us.
But it could also be a problem if we had to get out after even a typical winter storm…
Jade asked, "How bad is the winter up here?"
"Dunno... I was only here in the summer. But I'd guess maybe ten or twenty feet of snow at least. Maybe less, maybe more. Regular snows start earlier, like October, and go through April. I think. Earlier some years and later others, naturally. Kinda depends on the El Nino current in the Pacific."
"Hmmm…"
"What?"
"Just thinking about the Donner Party..." The Donner Pass was several miles north, to the west of Lake Tahoe. An entire industry was built up on the legend of that long-ago Gold Rush era tragedy. In a nutshell, the Donners or at least part of their wagon train, got stuck in the snows late in the season and eventually ended up eating some of those who didn't make it.
"Great! Well, at least we won't be stranded without food." I hope, I thought.
"Don't worry, Vega. You're too skinny to eat." I glanced at her and she chuckled, "Then again, I could make jerky…"
As disgusted as I was by her joke, I was so happy my Jade was back that I had to laugh. I hated the distant version who didn't seem to give a damn one way or another.
Anyway, as we bantered, the highway wound around the countryside, still following the contour of the land. As I said, there were switchbacks where we practically looped back several times before turning again to the west. And several curvy stretches that didn't double-back. But, back below the tree line, it seemed there were campgrounds, with and without cabins, every half mile.
We passed several campgrounds and a couple of resorts but nothing worth noting - they all appeared deserted. Still, the resorts would be worth scavenging for supplies. Even the campgrounds might have things worth saving, even if they only have a single admin/supply building.
As we headed further down the western slope of the Sierras, below the tree line, there were, naturally, more and bigger trees. As I mentioned earlier, this side of the mountains also got more rainfall so the wooded areas were denser with taller trees and more undergrowth. Not redwood tall but more and taller than the east side of the range. Naturally, there were more fire and forest roads meeting the highway. We were soon in the heart of the Stanislaus National Forest.
We continued on for a while as the pine forest surrounded us. Then, after I was sure I overshot the camp, Jade saw the wooden sign directing us to Camp Sutter.
"VEGA! STOP!"
I slammed on the brakes, looking around wildly for some reason for Jade's shout. In a calm voice, she explained, "You almost missed the turn, Vega."
With a big sigh, I replied, "Well, thank you for hastening my impending cardiac event! You know you could've just calmly said I was about to pass the entrance."
"Where's the fun in that?" Jade just sat smugly in her seat – which, again, I had to admit was a much better Jade than the near-ghost who rode with me the past day and a half.
"Yeah, well, anyway, when I came here before, I was a kid... Dad drove and we came up from the Central Valley."
"Uh-huh."
I turned down the hard scrabble surface when Jade suggested, "We should take that sign down."
"Why?"
Leave it to Jade to make me feel stupid a moment later.
"Other people might come by here and see the sign..." she said in an even, patient voice. She sounded like Helen Crump on the old 'The Andy Griffith Show' scolding Andy or Opie. That was a classic 1960s situation comedy that ran for several years on CBS, one of the original Big 3 broadcast networks – CBS' history going back to the early years of the Golden Age of Radio in the 1920s.
Before the Fever, and especially before the incident at Jade's, I might've argued. Now, I just wanted us to be safe. I stopped and walked back with Jade. The upright was a substantial 8-foot-tall, 4x4 pole with another 4-foot 4x4 cross piece that supported the carved, wooden sign (just over three feet by two and a half feet) for the camp. The upright was fixed in a small, but heavy plug of cement buried in the ground. We did manage to rock it back and forth enough to get the plug a little loose. We tried bear-hugging it from each side but couldn't lift it more than an inch or two. I even hugged Jade from behind to try to help her lever it out but the post was too deep and, with the concrete base, too heavy.
"One… Two… Don't let me get to three…" I removed my arms from Jade's waist. Before I could say anything, she turned and said, "Never mind, Vega. The concrete and the pole probably go down several feet. I'll come back with an axe and chop it down. I'll cover the concrete and we can always use the sign and signpost for firewood."
I nodded and we got back in the truck and drove further into the woods along the winding gravel road. Nice thing about the entrance was it was a gravel surface like all the forest and fire roads we had passed. Nothing to make it look any more important than the others, once the sign was down. Any scavengers would hit the resorts, camp sites and, especially the Marine Corps base.
All the more reason to get to the base soon.
Past the entrance, on the right side of the road, the land sloped down a couple of times along the way, often with a steep slope that left us high above the treetops on that side of the road. The ground rose to the left and was heavily wooded, but several times it was a scarp slope that rose anywhere from a few feet to twenty or thirty feet above the road. Like the highway, the camp road twisted and turned back on itself.
"That's worth noting," Jade observed. "We can jerry-rig some defensive sites."
"Why?" Again, I felt stupid even as I asked.
With a long-suffering sigh, "What if someone remembers this place or finds it on a map or just gets curious or…" Another, longer sigh, "Anyway, what if they're not that nice?"
I almost laughed at Jade's 'not that nice' line but then I realized what she meant and that sobered me up quickly. Just because we left the chaos of a dying city didn't mean the dangers were gone. I knew that but the reminder, no matter how much she talked down to me, was unwelcome but necessary.
Eventually, nearly a mile in from the highway, the road opened up to a large gravel parking lot. Naturally, it was empty. I remembered it being nearly packed with cars when families dropped off their kids at the beginning of camp and, later, picking them up after the end of camp.
We were at the extreme northeast corner of the paved, nearly square acre expanse. A good part of the lot doubled as a parade ground. Every night at dusk, the camp units that weren't on overnight camping trips would gather in unit formation for Taps as the flags – the United States flag, the State of California flag, and the local Diocesan flag – were lowered. The flag stands were to the right of the entrance as we drove in.
Dead ahead of us, at the far side, a pedestrian covered bridge led over a small, usually dry ravine into the central part of the camp. Across the lot to the right, along the far right, beyond the lot and the flag stands, were the old stables. Newer stables had been built beyond the old structures. We later found the horses had been loosed into their pasture and were surprisingly easy to round up. Especially for a couple of city-slickers. Fortunately.
To our immediate left, partly under the trees, was Central Stores. A large storage building (mainly full of grounds-keeping supplies but with a large rack of cases of camp unit shirts, lake gear – canoes, oars, small sailboats and float ropes to separate the areas of the camp lakes - and general maintenance inventory). Next to that, under a corrugated awning, was a gas pump with a large external tank beyond (which, fortunately, was full). There were also two vehicles – an older, 1980s era camp station wagon and a US Forest Service Land Rover, parked under the trees.
A tractor trailer with a propane fuel tanker that was practically full (over 9500 gallons) was parked nearby, the driver still sitting in the cab. I guessed he was leaving after filling the camp's tanks when he finally succumbed to the Fever. The camp was one of the first stops on that area's tanker route, according to his delivery log. And the camp's tanks were full for the beginning of the upcoming camping season. We managed to ignore the driver's remains in the cab – at least for the time being.
I was starting to think we had a guardian angel looking out for us. First Esther and Indian Springs – which still hurts that we left her behind - then finding safe housing along the way and now this trove of fuel. But then I remembered the boy Jade had to kill and, even worse, the cause of all of this – the loss of our world.
In any event, there were no other cars in evidence so I was fairly confident we were alone. Still, after the past week, we were a little paranoid.
I slowly drove across the lot and pulled up near the bridge. Then, in a fake cheery voice, I announced, "We're here."
"No duh!" Then Jade looked at me with a quickly vanishing trace of apology in her expression. "Okay. What's here?"
"C'mon," I replied as I got out of the truck. Jade followed with a single glance at our loaded truck. I was a little worried too, but we weren't going far. Locking the SUV and pocketing the keys, I cradled one of the AK-47s in my arms and Jade carried her sawed-off shotgun. And we both had our holsters on our hips, all the guns loaded. It was amazing to me, at the time, how quickly I went from feeling uncomfortable with the pistol to feeling naked without it. And the rifle felt comfortable in my arms...
Nowadays its second nature, like making sure I had the house keys when I left home for school in the good old days. How different from just the other day… Then.
Anyway, constantly keeping an eye out for any dangers, we crossed the covered bridge, our boots echoing from the wooden planks as we walked above the dry streambed.
On the other side was a larger area, flanked by two buildings. The open area was paved with asphalt, which looked newly laid. That stretched to the right and left in lanes past the structures. Beyond the pavement, straight ahead, was an old-fashioned post fence and a drop off into the pines. Beyond that wooded ravine, eventually the ground sloped up again towards the nearer peaks of the Sierras.
I pointed to the right at a large, screened-in structure, "That's the old mess hall. All the camp units ate there. Breakfast with lunches and dinners unless a unit was on an over-night or a day-trip. Over there..." Then I gestured to the right, "That's the chapel."
"Chapel?"
"Oh, yeah, this is – was a Catholic-sponsored youth camp." I saw Jade grimace a bit. I knew, like me, she had been raised Catholic but disdained organized religion. With all the problems besetting the Church and their dated rules that just didn't match modern life, I had felt a growing distance myself even before everything went to hell...
Obviously, Jade had an even worse opinion of organized religion.
"Um, we didn't have to go to church. And campers didn't have to be Catholic to go to camp. The only real religious ritual we had was saying grace before meals." Jade nodded, her eyes already scanning the two paths.
The mess hall was a large building, the entrance facing the front of the chapel, and was open on three sides - the windows covered with mesh screens. The far section was totally enclosed and housed the kitchen and stores. The majority of the hall was full of long, heavy, wooden tables with benches along each side – like stretched-out picnic tables. There was a raised platform along the right side of the hall as you entered with a few extra tables - reminded me of the captain's table area from a Princess cruise my family took before I started at Hollywood Arts. This raised area was mainly for the camp staff - except the camp unit leaders who sat with their 'tribe', as the units were referred to.
I gestured to the right as we faced the immediate downslope, behind the dining hall, "That's the grotto. Actually a small amphitheater where the opening ceremonies were held with a bonfire in the center. The priest even told some good ghost stories there."
The dining hall itself, like the rest of the camp buildings (except the medical house, the rectory, the ranger house and the staff lounge), was mostly a large, open-air, log structure. In this case, with a vaulted, wood roof/ceiling supported by thick, rough logs spaced regularly around the room.
The chapel was a brighter building. While smaller than the mess hall, it was a large A-frame structure with a simple steeple above the entrance and stained glass forming most of the rear wall as well as a large, stained glass window above the entrance. There were clear glass skylights and clear windows that opened over screens along the long walls.
Outside these buildings, the right path, beyond the mess hall, rose up towards a house. "That's the medical building to the right and beyond is the ranger's quarters. This is all Federal park land. Well, was… So, the ranger station…"
"Stanislaus National Forest and a ranger station? Kinda put it together myself, Vega." I stuck my tongue out at her when she turned away. Immature but fun.
The left branch sloped down and away. "Down there are the lakes. The larger, stream-fed lake, Lake Comstock, is for canoeing and fishing. A smaller one – Lake Sutter - used to be an inlet of Comstock but is now closed off and shallower. It's where the campers would swim and play. There's a beach, a large, anchored raft, a Tarzan swing and even a zip line. The lakes are fed by the melt water from the Sierras and extremely cold, even in August – Especially Comstock. Sutter, being shallower, starts to warm up in June. Still cold but not unbearable. Both drain downslope eventually towards the Valley." I smiled, "I loved the Tarzan swing… I loved doing my Carol Burnett impersonation before I let go and fell into the lake."
"Thanks for the stroll down memory lane, Vega."
With that, we opted to go up the shallow rise of the right branch path toward the med center and ranger's home. It felt good to stretch our legs after all the driving. Happily, the medical building was intact and empty. (That pesky guardian angel again.) Fortunately, there were no bodies either. The inventory was good – already prepped for a summer full of kids and their ailments – from scrapes and sprains and broken bones to preliminary emergency care. There was a small surgery with tools and supplies, including a stock of antibiotics. A decent doctor could handle tonsils or even a bad appendix if necessary. The surgery was used as a last resort, presuming the patient couldn't last the trip downslope to 'civilization'.
The doctor's office had a small, apparently comprehensive library of medical texts. Someone who knew what they were doing could use these for relatively simple operations, again like tonsils and appendicitis. Perhaps worse if necessary.
Given Jade's and my lack of experience, I hoped we never had to worry about this room. But it was good to know we had what we needed if…
Beyond the med center was the park ranger station/house. This was beyond the far corner of the parking lot from the entrance. I never understood, even when I was a kid, why the ranger always left the Land Rover across the parking lot rather than near his house. Unless it was to avoid bothering the horses when they were in the stables.
We stepped onto the porch and to the front door. Even as I smelled something bad, I knocked on the front door. There was no answer. Jade stepped up, even as she noted the stench, and pounded on the door. "Hey! Ranger Rick! Wake your ass up!"
When there was still no answer, I tried the knob and it turned. Even as I pushed the door open, the smell really hit me and I pushed Jade back. About to complain at my action, Jade shut up when she caught a whiff.
"Oh my God! That is so foul…" Jade didn't finish her statement but I could only agree.
From the door, I didn't see the source in the front room. What I saw was a combination living room and ranger headquarters including a new advanced radio set and several large topographic maps mounted on the right wall showing the Stanislaus Forest for several miles around the camp. Beyond the arch, at the back of the front room, was a dining room and, through the door at the back of that room, was the kitchen. A hallway opened on the left of the front door.
As we entered, we covered our mouths and noses by pulling up our shirt tales. It didn't do much but at least we could pretend the thick smell of death wasn't as bad as it really was. Still, we both fought the natural urge to throw up whatever was in our stomachs.
Along that hall on the left was a bathroom then two bedrooms. In the master bedroom, the ranger and, we presumed, his wife were holding each other. They had been dead for several days – from the state they were in, they might've been among California's earliest deaths. We closed the door then went on to the rear bedroom which was unoccupied. Beyond the hall opened into the kitchen.
Jade nudged me and nodded towards the back door. I agreed and we were out on the back porch, taking deep breaths of the pine-scented air.
"God! That was horrible!" Jade declared.
"Yeah," I agreed. Needlessly, I added, "And the cities and towns are going to be far worse."
Welcome to Camp Sutter.
Note: And, as ever, my gratitude to the help of Loganx5.