Book of Days

by James Rubart

"I have to find the book. For my dad, for Jessie, for myself."

  "But why are you calling me about it?"

  "I need someone who knew Jessie to help me. Who might know something more about her story."

  "I don't think I'm the person you're looking for."

  "You know you are. Who else can I trust?" He scratched at the dirt with his forefinger. "Who else do I know who has a background in investigative reporting?"

  The silence lasted more than thirty seconds.

  Ann sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

  The next morning his cell phone shattered the silence. Who was calling this early? He fumbled through his pack to find his phone. Ann. Cameron unzipped his tent and glanced outside. Not a hint of dawn. He might be able to get back to sleep.

  He slid his Bluetooth over his ear. "Why are you calling me at this hour?"

  "I thought you wanted answers."

  "It's four forty-five, Ann."

  "My foster dad always said, 'Never any point in burning daylight.'"

  "It's not light," Cameron muttered.

  "Do you want to know what I've discovered or not?"

  He blinked and shook his head to wake up. "I want to know."

  "Your dad said he found this thing when he was a kid?"

  "Yes."

  "Did he ever talk with you about his childhood? His early childhood when he lived in Central Oregon, in a town called Three Peaks?"

  "No, I knew he grew up in Oregon . . . and I remembered him saying it was a strange time for him, but I didn't remember where. Where is Three Peaks?"

  "I just told you, Central Oregon."

  "Hey, I'm still waking up." Cameron crawled out of his tent and sat cross-legged.

  "How long did he live there?"

  "Till he was nine. What does this have to do with—?"

  "Remember what he said to you?"

  "About?" He scratched the back of his head.

  "Wake up, Cameron. You need to be on point for this. Your dad said he saw this book thing as a kid."

  "Yeah."

  "I got up early and dug through the Internet, grabbing everything I could find on Three Peaks, which wasn't a lot. But I did find one item worth mentioning."

  "What?" Cameron massaged his feet and slipped on his shoes.

  "Have you ever heard of Future Current?"

  "No, should I?"

  "Probably not. It's not that well known outside of New Age circles. But in that subculture it's pretty well known. Their whole focus is unlocking memories from the past as well as trying to look into the future. Know it, tap into it, control it, use it to shape future events. And their headquarters are in—"

  "Three Peaks, Oregon."

  "Yep. For them to choose to locate in a town of only seventeen-hundred people . . . seems like a pretty interesting coincidence. Why there, you know what I mean?"

  Cameron started breaking down his tent.

  "So what's next?" Ann asked.

  "When can you meet me in Three Peaks?"

  She sighed through the phone. "Sorry, Cameron. Why don't you check it out and call me if you need help once you get there."

  "Ann? Please?"

  "I'll think about it."

  "Ann, I really—"

  "I said I'll think about it."

  The line went dead.

  He didn't need her to think about it; he needed her to come. Cameron dug his fingers into his knotted shoulder and stared at the horizon, now a lighter gray streaked with hints of gold.

  I have to find the book, huh, Dad? That will bring my Jessie memories back and keep them intact for the rest of my days? Will it keep me from losing any more of my mind? He rubbed his brow as the cords in his neck tightened. I can't afford to lose my brain, Dad.

  Cameron finished breaking down his camp and glanced at his watch. He could be back to Seattle and packed for a trip to Three Peaks by early afternoon.

  As he stuffed his tent into his pack, Jessie's stone around his neck fell out of his shirt. He dropped his pack and held the stone, staring at the markings on its surface.

  This was the key?

  All right, Jessie, if the wild goose is running, I'm ready to go on a chase.

  All he needed to do on Monday morning was convince Brandon he could handle an extra fifty hours for the next couple of weeks.

  Piece of cake.

  Yeah, right.

  CHAPTER 4

  Cameron sat in his office on Monday morning, chewing espresso beans and getting more irritated by the second. Brandon and he played tug-of-war over his going to Three Peaks, and Cameron was getting tired of the rope burns.

  "You can't go now, bud, we've got five jobs on the front burner. They're jumping off the stove, they're so hot. I'm supposed to shoot, edit, write, and do the voice work all by myself? Oh, that's right, I forgot, I don't do voice work. And I can't animate like you can. But other than that, sure, count me in for a 120-hour week. Sign me up, lock and load, make it happin' captain." Brandon did a bad version of The Twist.

  "Stop."

  "Huh, what? Say again. One more time?"

  "Stop talking. Now. You're not funny and your dancing makes you look like you've got the dry heaves."

  "That's your big comeback for why you have to go?"

  "I have to do this, Brandon."

  "Listen, sarcasm aside, I get it. Great. Go. That's why we started this biz. Have the freedom to get out of here and go without checking with some corporate suit. But hello, uh, not when we're in the heart of the game. Two months, then you're outta here for three weeks. Four. Six. Whatever."

  "I need to go now."

  "Okay, okay, I'm with you. Just give me a good reason why, and I'm on the team."

  "I think I'm . . ." Cameron stopped himself. Right. As if he could tell Brandon he was losing his mind. And his dad's whacko last words and a recent recollection of Jessie's accident were about to send him on an insane goose chase to find some book that would restore his memories, cure his mind, and maybe answer ninety-nine of the other one-hundred questions of life.

  "I can't tell you."

  Brandon slouched back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. "Oh, great. Let me guess. It's some weird trek, like the time you were convinced Bigfoot had visited your campsite up near Tumwater Canyon and you needed to hang out up in the pine trees for three days trying to get his picture."

  "I was seventeen when I did that. I was a little more impressionable in those days."

  "So you don't believe in Bigfoot anymore?"

  "No, I've shifted my focus to something fully based in reality—the Loch Ness Monster."

  Brandon laughed and slumped back in his chair. "It's hard to stay ticked off at you, even when you're being an idiot."

  Cameron smiled. "Thanks, I think."

  "So why can't you tell me what's going on?"

  "Three Peaks is where my dad grew up till he was nine. Something he said to me might be a clue as to why he died so young. I need to check it out."

  "You're killing me, Cam."

  "I have to go now."

  "You already said that." Brandon sighed and pulled up a calendar on his computer. "How long?"

  "A week, maybe two."

  "This be July 19." Brandon pointed to the date on his computer monitor and then moved his finger down two weeks. "This be August 2. You gotta be back at de veddy, veddy latest by that date, cool?"

  "It'll probably be sooner than that. I just want to see if there's anything of my dad's history there that will explain how Jessie and he ended up talking about the same . . ."

  "How Jessie and he ended up talking about the same what?"

  Cameron dug the nail of his forefinger into his thumb. He needed to be careful. He wasn't ready to tell Brandon what was going on. He had hardly come to terms with it himself. "I need some space on this one. Okay?"

  "You got it. No worries."

  No worries? Right. They were the only thing filling his mind.

  An hour later Cameron checked to make sure hi
s mountain bike was securely mounted on top of his MINI Cooper, then slipped behind the wheel. He tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat on top of a couple of books on Central Oregon history and buckled up.

  The backseat was stuffed with his laptop, video camera, clothes, and climbing gear: ropes, carabineers, tapered wedges, SLCDs, harnesses, shoes, and chalk. Always lots of chalk, so he wouldn't slip. Climbing safe meant climbing in control. No emotion, only execution.

  Even the adrenaline rush that coursed through him when he climbed wasn't emotion. It was a drug, an endorphin high that buried his pain. A way to keep the loss of Jessie at bay for at least a few hours. And a way to be close to her at the same time.

  His mind shifted to Ann. She had finally relented and agreed to meet him, saying she'd been meaning to come to Three Peaks anyway on a personal matter. She would arrive in Three Peaks in a couple days but could only stay for a week at the most. Fine with him. All he needed was a little help.

  He fired up his car and headed south on I-5 toward Oregon. Wispy clouds moved across the sky, covering and uncovering a brilliant sun framed by a sapphire sky. That old sixties song nailed it: the bluest skies were in Seattle. He glanced at his dashboard temperature gauge. Seventy-seven degrees. A perfect summer day.

  He'd read that depressed people killed themselves more often on sunny days. They were supposed to feel better when the sun was out. When they didn't, any remaining hope died, and so did they.

  He'd traveled that road hundreds of times in his imagination. When Jessie died, the idea shoved its way into his mind at least a few times a day.

  The blackness had tried to draw him in. It invited him to a place with no pain, no emotions, no longings—nothing but sweet relief from despair, so thick every day felt like he was slogging through waist-high tar.

  The past year had been better. His mind said ending his life wasn't the answer, even if his heart continued to argue back.

  These days whenever the dark thoughts surfaced, he shoved them underwater till they drowned.

  He shouldn't worry about it. If he ever got serious about the idea again, Jessie would probably swoop down from heaven or wherever she was, stop him and say, "How can you think about destroying your life? You have a destiny. One that no other life can fill. Live free, Aragorn."

  A king that loses his mind. Yeah, what a great tale that would be.

  "Where are you, Jessie? Are you and Dad together? My heart is so barren without the two of you."

  Cameron pulled into Three Peaks late that afternoon looking for Dream It, Do It Hardware, the place he'd get his first shot at finding answers.

  A hair salon anchored the corner of the first building. Midway down the street was Bronco & Buster's Grill & Saloon and a sporting goods store with rubber canoes out front and a basket of clearance items spread out on the sidewalk.

  On the other side was Palino's Pizza, the town hall, and Java Jump Start. At least he'd be able to get a decent caffeine jolt each morning.

  At the end of the next block was the Ponderosa Lodge Best Western. He glanced at the name of the hotel on his itinerary. Yep. The Ponderosa would be home for the next two weeks.

  Across the street stood the hardware store. He pulled into the parking lot on the side of the building and sat in his car, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. One minute. Two. Probably the place where his journey would end before it started.

  Jessie loved her dreams and visions. About God, about life, about all things spiritual.

  Maybe the book was just another one of her fantasies.

  Maybe his dad's words were the final ramblings of a mind shutting down forever.

  Only one way to discover the truth. Start asking questions.

  Lots of questions.

  As he stepped through the door of Dream It, Do It Hardware, chimes announced his arrival. He scanned the store. No customers. To his right a small fan pushed a faint smell of sawdust and grease into his nostrils.

  "How can I be of help to you today?" said a man with thinning, dirty-blond hair. He sat behind a low counter on a tall maple stool and pecked at a computer keyboard with his forefingers. He wore a rumpled blue polo shirt with a Benjamin Moore logo and khaki shorts. Cameron guessed the man was in his late fifties, early sixties.

  He eased toward the man. "I'm looking for Mayor Kirk Gillum."

  "Mind if I tell him who it 'tiz that's searching for him?" The man stepped out from behind the counter, his eyes narrow.

  "My name's Cameron Vaux, I'm—"

  "Right, we met on the phone. I'm Kirk." He folded his arms across his chest. "You don't look like you sound on the phone, Mr. Vaux. You've got one of those deep radio voices, so I thought you'd be six foot ten or something. Of course, I probably don't look like I sound either. People rarely do." He unfolded his arms and gave Cameron a weak handshake. "I suppose I should offer you a drink."

  Kirk moved back around the counter and opened a small refrigerator. "I've got Diet Mountain Dew; that's about it."

  "Mountain Dew is fine."

  He tossed a can to Cameron who snagged it with one hand.

  Kirk stepped back to the counter and leaned forward on his elbows. "You mentioned you're a videographer, right? Will you be doing any filming while you're down here?"

  "Probably not."

  "Too bad. It would be a real treat to have someone make a documentary about our town," Kirk said.

  "Treat?"

  "The wonderful things about a small town outweigh the downsides, without question, but one of those downsides is wheelbarrows full of monotony. Three Peaks is great for tourists, but sometimes we locals like a little shot of excitement. Having a film crew here would be kinda fun."

  Cameron took a swig of Mountain Dew. "Sorry to disappoint you, but maybe someday."

  "No problem. So you want some history on Three Peaks, huh?"

  Kirk didn't wait for Cameron to answer. "Like I said when you called from Seattle, I'm not much of a historian, but a few folks around here can tell you everything, from the highest and lowest temperatures for the past fifty years to who won the Doggie Dash ten summers back. I've already told them you'd be coming."

  Kirk yanked a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Cameron. On it were three names with addresses and phone numbers.

  "They're looking forward to meeting you. First is Arnold Peasley. He's a little off center—most folks around here would say he's certifiably peculiar—but he knows his history like I know nuts and bolts.

  "Next is Laura Moon. She was the mayor here before me and owns the crystals store in town. She runs the local theater and writes her own plays sometimes. Her plays are about as exciting as bird-watching, but we like her too much to complain."

  "I know some people who really enjoy birding."

  "Sorry to hear that." Kirk almost smiled. "Just kidding."

  He tapped the next name on the list. "Then we've got Susan Hillman, the best of the bunch. She works at the library, so she can point you to the history books. She's a rock, solid as they come, and is one of the keenest observers of people you'll ever meet. A little whacked out when it comes to her spiritual beliefs, but we overlook that as best we can."

  "Thanks, I appreciate all the help."

  "No problem, young Cameron." Kirk attempted another smile. "Anything else you want to know before we say good-bye?"

  Should he tell this guy the real reason he was here? Kirk Gillum wasn't exactly heating up the hardware store with his warmth. But what could it hurt?

  "I want to talk about my dad."

  "Your dad?"

  "He lived here till he was nine."

  Kirk rubbed his chin. "Interesting. It is indeed a small world. Is this the first time you've visited Three Peaks?"

  Cameron nodded. "First time."

  "And you wanted to see where he spent his early years? Is that what this history thing is about?"

  "That and hopefully a little bit more."

  "More?" Kirk leaned back and folded
his arms again.

  "My dad died eight years ago, but before he did, he said something strange. His mind was gone at the time so I didn't pay much attention then. But some recent . . . circumstances have made me think again about what he said and take it a little more seriously."

  "And what did he say?" Kirk titled his head.

  "That I needed to find the day's book. I have to find out if it exists."

  "The day's book? Hmm . . . ?" Kirk squeezed the tip of his tongue between his lips and looked like he'd taken a bite of lemon pie without any sugar.

  "Does that mean anything to you?"

  The mayor stared at him with a condescending smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, Cameron, but why in the world would you want to go searching for something like that? Trust me, leave it alone."

  "So it does mean something to you."

  "Of course it means something to me, or I wouldn't have suggested you drop it." Kirk stood and strolled toward the front door of the store. "But since I'm one of the friendliest people you'll meet in this town, young Cameron, I'll say it again. You might consider just leaving it alone."

  Cameron planted his hands on his hips. "Mind telling me why?"

  "You are a free citizen and can do whatever you want within the confines of the law." Kirk pushed open the front door. "But I do hate to see anyone in my town, especially a fine new friend, waste his time chasing down some fairy tale that is none of his business when he could be out doing so many other interesting things." He motioned through the door toward Cameron's car. "Thanks for coming by."

  Cameron took the not-so-subtle hint and walked out. He climbed into his car and fell back in his seat.

  Until that moment, he hadn't given his dad's and Jessie's words more than a fifty-fifty chance of having any validity. No longer.

  A fairy tale? Not to Kirk it wasn't. So what was this book?

  Cameron pulled Gillum's list out of his pocket. Time to meet quirky Arnold Peasley.

  CHAPTER 5

  What are you still doing here?"

  Ann Banister looked up from her desk to find Drew Silster standing in the doorway of her office, arms spread to both sides of the door frame, his eyes twinkling behind his squared-off glasses. Good boss. Good friend.