Battle Ground (excerpt)

This habit of his. Sticking his hand into his right pocket to let his fingers dance with the heart-shaped locket his grandmother left him. He did it a lot as he watched his dogs, Cooter and Cletus (aka…The Boys), run through fields and yards where once neighbors yelled at him, “Your dogs need to be on a leash!”

There was no one left to yell at his dogs except him. They continued their walk around Battle Ground, the town he called home. The town he and his family, who once lived, called home, but they were now all gone. Just he and his dogs remained.

It was just another town, his family were travelers, thanks to the United States Marine Corps, who kept them on the move, but for some unknown reason they had decided to settle here. Funny…a town that was named after a raging battle that never actually happened. The troops from Fort Vancouver had driven away the Indians, and now something had actually driven everyone from this town.

He pulled out his pack of smokes, and tapped out a stale Camel Light. His right hand was still busy with the locket. There was no one left to make Camel Lights, but there were still plenty in the abandoned minit marts with all kinds of smokes. All of them at least a year old. It was kind of like smoking a roll of toilet paper but reminded him of being sixteen and sneaking out to smoke a cig after his mom fell asleep.

Any form of comfort these days made another minute pass.

He took a drag off the smoke, then held the locket up to his ear for a quick shake to make sure the clink was still there. Once satisfied, he stuck it back in his pocket while thinking, “Why does a grown man carry a locket with a picture of a dog and cat…and a gold tooth…in his pocket.” The world no longer made any sense. All he had now was time. Cooter and Cletus. And memories.

He remembered what his grandmother had said, “You are going to make this family proud one day.”

But even she was gone now. Maybe staying alive was what she foresaw. She could always see things coming ahead. Too bad she couldn’t see how a two-year-old Camel Light only lasted two drags before it was done.

Cooter and Cletus ran amuck around the deserted neighborhood, chased some birds as he stared at the smoke rising from the butt of his now consumed cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in over thirty years, but what the fuck…apparently no one lives forever. There probably wasn’t even a doctor around to tell him he had lung cancer, at some point he even maybe stopped caring. He was smart, but even he figured out soon enough there really was no point.

He reached back into his pocket and caressed the locket with his thumb. It used to have an inscription, “Love You Always”. But he had whittled that inscription away with this thumb a few months ago. That habit, he just couldn’t help himself. Grandma wouldn’t have minded anyway. It came from some lover she never told anyone about, except him, and it was their secret. He did his part, he never shared that secret with anyone else. Even when there was no one around to share it with. He still kept it to himself.

He watched Cooter and Cletus chase after a cat and smiled. Ok…now I know there’s four of us alive now.

So maybe everything was just made up. Maybe today was not real. It was too quiet, no cars, no birds, just his mind watching Cooter and Cletus while wondering how they managed to still be here.

Grandma had such high hopes. Not even those hopes saved her from whatever it was that ran through humanity. Starting with the market crash, people getting their money from the banks, selling their stocks, being afraid. She was too slow. Lost everything. Even towards the end, she still insisted on making out a will. She really didn't have anything left to give except that last hand across his face as she said goodbye. She left this traveler her most prized possession…her heart-shaped locket. That’s when she told him the secret, made him promise he wouldn’t tell anyone.

It was the beginning of some end, and you must give it to the old bat, she knew what was coming. She left him something to let him know she would always be with him, but that she was leaving.

“You’re going to make this family proud some day.”

He whistled and the boys came running. Out of breath but knowing where they were headed. Time for the daily hike to the Lewis River, Daybreak Park. Cletus had apparently found something dead to roll in, but they would soon be in the river for a couple hours and Cletus would be washed clean.

Only thing is, it was about two hours to the river. Walking distance. The boys enjoyed the entire day. It was really all about them, and his sanity. The walk gave him a chance to see places and things that brought out happy memories. Some sense of normality he still had trouble coming up with on his own. The bad memories no longer served any purpose.

They still visited him more often than he cared for. They were just his demons that kept him company these days. When he died, all his demons would go with him. He even actually once asked God to promise that they would. In a moment of weakness, in the old church filled with mannequins.

The boys knew where they were headed and how to get there. Cletus plunged ahead into tall grass that once was mowed yards. Cooter, being the older one, would run ahead but always made sure he could see dad…even if he was a mile ahead.

This intrepid group proceeded on their two-hour walk to the Lewis River. Every step reminded the traveler of being a kid and swimming with his cousins all day at Lewisville or Daybreak park. Of the day he got too drunk to take some math final, playing softball, getting sunburned, someone gave him cough syrup with codeine to kill the pain…his cousins knew he needed to take the final so they threw him in a car and two of them drove him to Clark College. He had passed out and awoke with only the math professor in the room, "Are you ready to take your final?" He passed his math class. Then slept for three days.

Two hours to Daybreak. There was no such thing as a “brisk” walk these days. Just something to kill time.

Or fifteen-thousand five-hundred and forty-two steps.

Not that he had nailed the exact number down, he was just guessing. He enjoyed the walk, and it tired out the boys. Cletus was so excited he ran through the fields, left and right. Crossing the once uncrossable road due to traffic, but no cars drove here anymore.

Cooter stayed on the road unless his nose took him somewhere off course, but he always came back to the road to make sure dad was within sight. The traveler didn’t care much. One whistle and both dogs returned quickly. So Cooter and Cletus got be the dogs of old days, roaming in their pack exploring the wilderness that had returned.

The halfway point was the burnt-down church he had spent the last year-and-a-half praying.

Or whatever it is you do in a church. Solitude…? He had enough of that these days.

He thought he must be talking to God, because there was no one left to talk to. Some days they were good prayers, some days he was just pissed and let God know it. Apparently God was big enough to take it. “Why in the fuck did you take everyone else and leave me here alone!? If you didn’t spare my dogs and made me have to take care of them, you know God-damn well I’d take that .45 and pull the trigger until I knew I was gone. You motherfucker. Piece of shit. Just tell me why? Give me my purpose, or I swear to you, once these dogs go…I go too. God, you’re an asshole.”

Today the church still smoldered, apparently either God did it on purpose, or not even God could protect the church from lightening. The traveler lit a smoke and wondered if maybe God was actually mad at him now. He took away one last place of solitude. So…fuck him.

Regardless, it was gone now. And since there was no longer a fire department, he got to pass by the smoldering church for the last four days to watch the remnants of flames licking up under what was once a metal roof. The smoke still black and rising above the trees. The stench of melting plastic from the hundreds of mannequins that once were his congregation.

The smoke now gave him reference to how far he was from the river, and from home.

Cooter & Cletus liked to sprint down the hill to one of the last turns before they were headed directly towards the river. Cletus disappeared around the bend. Cooter got to the bottom of the hill and turned, waiting, for dad to give some signal it was time to continue. Patient enough to watch dad light another stale cigarette and stare at the flames as they did their best to put themselves out. Where to now? There were plenty of churches in Battle Ground, but he was picky enough to know he needed true solitude to talk with God. Of course, he often looked up saying, “You suck, know that right?” He dropped his smoke, turned his head to look at Cooter, and took a step towards the river. Cooter hadn’t moved an inch, but once dad took that step he knew he was free and took off after Cletus.

The last bend. Cooter and Cletus used the time of dad catching up to bounce through the tall grass of the fields that once fed horses and cattle and goats. It doesn’t take nature long to recover what was once its own, so the boys had to jump above the grass to see where they were headed, then with their heads down they played their own game of tag. Ok…maybe not tag. Cooter chased after Cletus to get a good hump in before dad could yell at him to leave Cletus alone. They were too excited to really care, and dad no longer had to yell much…Cooter knew to stop when dad was within sight.

Then a straight line to the river. As soon as the traveler made the last turn the boys made a dash and brought a smile to the traveler’s face when he heard the distant sound of two splashes from the dogs jumping into the river. It was only about a thousand paces before he got to Daybreak Park, and he would soon be throwing a stick into the water. He often wondered how they made this three-and-a-half-mile trek to the river every day, spend two hours swimming, then walk back without anyone (including himself) passing out. But it was quiet, the dogs loved it, and he found some sense of peace there. Good memories flooded his consciousness and he felt good.

Today…felt different. He found a stick, threw it over and over again. The dogs jumped into the river over and over again. But there was something different. A moment you feel someone staring at you, and you turn to find no one around.

That’s when he saw the rocks. It’s a river, so there are a lot of rocks. These ones were stacked. The kind of put together by someone who has too much time on their hands. Small rocks balanced on big rocks, big rocks balanced on small rocks. There were at least a dozen rock statues. On the far side of the river. He couldn’t help but stare at them, Cooter and Cletus dripping wet at his feet waiting for another stick. Which he threw, and they dove in after it, and brought it back.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the statues. They were all perfectly balanced. He looked to his right, upriver, and there were more. As though someone was wandering down the river wasting time making rock statues. Wasting time like his walks down to the river with Cooter and Cletus. All he had to do was walk, one foot in front of the other. These statues were intentional. Carefully placed.

They were not there yesterday.