Book of Days

by James Rubart

  Ann waved Jason off. "That's okay, thanks."

  "Come now, I think you have some fans here who would love to hear from you."

  The crowd laughed and broke out into a louder round of applause.

  "See?"

  As Ann made her way to the stage, Jason gave an impromptu introduction. "If you don't know already, Ann hosts a very popular cable program that I believe is seen weekly across the country. Please welcome to our town, Ms. Ann Banister."

  Ann sprang up the stairs in jeans and a maroon polo shirt with an Adventure Northwest logo. She walked over to Jason, shook his hand, and turned to wave at the crowd.

  "Hello, Three Peaks!" A big smile creased her pretty face. "I didn't dress tonight with the idea of being onstage. I hope this works for you." She smiled again as the crowd applauded and nodded their approval.

  A sudden movement to his left made Cameron pivot.

  Taylor Stone stumbled forward and hunched over, as if he was choking on one of the mini crab cakes Jason had provided for the event. His wife steadied Taylor, and after a few seconds he stood erect again, apparently recovered. But his face wasn't red as it should be from choking; it was stark-white. His eyes narrowed and his lips parted, the look on his face was one of shock.

  No question as to the source of his surprise. Stone stared directly at Ann Banister.

  Taylor finally turned to his wife, who glanced rapidly back and forth between Ann and him. After sharing ten or fifteen seconds of intense whispers, Taylor and his wife eased out the back door.

  The Taylor Stone saga had just added a fascinating new chapter.

  Taylor Stone, you and I are going to get to know each other much, much better.

  Cameron looked back at the stage and listened to Jason banter with Ann about life as a television-show host and his favorite episodes of Adventure Northwest.

  "Now friends, I want to bring up a subject dear to my heart and many of yours. Ann, I'd love to have you stay onstage and answer a few questions if you don't mind." Jason turned, opened his palms, and tilted his head.

  Ann gave a quick nod.

  "Great." Jason turned back to the crowd. "I know some of you think Future Current is a joke and that the Book of Days is a figment of my overactive imagination. But I recently met a man whose father saw the book in physical form. And touched it. He carried this secret till just before he passed on."

  Wonderful. Of course Jason couldn't keep his mouth shut about what Cameron had revealed. He glanced at the back door. If Jason threw out an invitation for Cameron to come up onstage, he didn't want to be in a position to accept.

  "I believe this man told the truth. It brings to light something I've hoped for for years. That the book is not just real on a spiritual plane but in the physical realm as well. Are you ready to read about your future? Remember your past? With this book we can change mankind forever." Jason grinned. "Friends, please show your appreciation to this man's son for bringing us renewed hope. I give you Cameron Vaux."

  Cameron gave a quick wave as a smattering of applause filled the room. He looked toward the door again. Kirk Gillum stood at the door glaring at Jason. A moment later he shoved his shoulder into the door and strode out.

  "I'm sure Cameron will be interested in talking to any of you as soon as I'm finished."

  Right. Maybe he should follow Kirk out onto Main Street.

  Jason paced the stage, his head moving down then up then down again, then he turned to face the crowd. "I know many of you have heard the legends of the book since childhood, and the claim of someone who has seen the actual book in living color does nothing to bolster your faith.

  "Regardless of where you stand, it is time to address the pink elephant that has taken up residence in the middle of our town. I haven't spoken of the book in a public gathering such as this for a long time. But now the time is right. It's time for you all to join us in our quest for the truth."

  Cameron stared at Ann. Her face looked like she'd just stepped off a dingy that had been navigating twenty-foot swells.

  "Friends, I don't think the timing of Ann coming to our town is coincidence. She's dug into stories around the Northwest as an investigative journalist for many years now and has found some intriguing and unusual things during that time. So now I ask you, Ann, from someone who has seen their fair share of strange stories, is it possible the book actually exists? That it is genuine?"

  A wave of concern washed across Ann's face but she recovered a moment later. "Would you like me to give my professional or personal opinion?" Ann tilted her head to the side.

  The crowd chuckled.

  Jason tilted his head to the side. "We'd like to hear both."

  "Okay, reporter first." Ann pretended to crack her knuckles and lowered her voice. "Since I am completely without bias and entirely objective," Ann smiled, "I don't know whether a Book of Days exists or doesn't exist. It would be fascinating if it did, but I will, of course, keep all emotion out of my mind as this story unfolds. And if you find it in the meantime, can you let me know if my show is going to be canceled next season? I'm a little worried."

  Jason gestured toward Ann as they both joined the crowd's laughter.

  "Sure it would be wonderful to find a book that told the unique story of every man, woman, and child on earth and explained the whys of their past and what will happen in their future. There are things I'd love to know about my past . . ." Ann cleared her throat. "And, of course, my future."

  Jason's slight smile grew into a grin. It was obvious he considered Ann's words so far an endorsement of sorts.

  "But to be serious for a moment"—Ann turned to Jason, whose smile froze on his face—"having talked to a great many people over the past ten years that have had, um, fascinating beliefs, I have to confess I think we all have a better chance of finding the lost city of Atlantis out back than finding a hidden Book of Days written by the hand of God."

  Jason swallowed. "But you are here to scout out what could be the story of the century before bringing in the cameras, correct? This is the ultimate adventure."

  "No, actually I'm not. I'm here entirely on a personal matter. Sorry." Ann held up both hands and grimaced playfully.

  Jason's eyes clouded over. "But if the book is discovered, certainly many people would want to broadcast the story, yes?"

  "Yes, of course, I'm sure a hoard of TV reporters would race directly here, right after finishing up their interviews with King Kong and the Abominable Snowman."

  Laughter erupted through the crowd and Ann smiled kindly at Jason. "Sorry, Jason. I couldn't resist."

  A wave of anger flashed across Jason's face. "I'm serious. If we showed you hard evidence, would you cover the story?"

  Ann looked at him and it seemed for the first time she realized the level of intensity he carried regarding the book. She took a half step away from Jason. "My apologies. I didn't realize this search was quite so serious."

  "Deadly."

  "Okay." Ann took another step away from Jason. "If you find a genuine book of God, your town's population will make Woodstock look like an empty field."

  Ann left the stage, the look of concern back on her face.

  Jason answered questions for the next ten minutes before he wrapped up his talk and stepped down from the stage where his followers gathered around him and offered congratulations.

  Ann was surrounded by people as well and Cameron moved near her to watch her work the crowd.

  She was as charming to others as he remembered. Why couldn't she treat him half as kindly?

  She smiled at the right times and always asked the people around her at least two follow-up questions, unlike most people who asked one return question to be polite but really didn't care what the answer was. She looked into people's eyes when they spoke, as if they were the only other person in the world, and her laugh was addictive.

  No wonder she'd been Jessie's best friend.

  "Have you met her yet?"

  Cameron gave a start. Jason had sauntered u
p to his side without him noticing. "Yes."

  "Do you know each other?"

  Cameron nodded.

  "Really. How?"

  "Mutual friends from our past." Cameron rubbed his temple. He didn't want Jason to know his connection to Ann. Jason seemed much too interested in her. "That shouldn't surprise me. You're in the same type of business, and you're ambitious like she is."

  "Not really."

  "Oh yes. I Googled you myself last night. Three years ago you entered a short film in five different contests and you finaled twice. Your Facebook page is full of links and likes within the film industry." Jason clapped his back. "You've made no secret of the fact you want to move up in the world of video. Scrap it altogether and move into making feature-length films."

  "What's your point?"

  "If we find the book, you could make any film you wanted. You would never have to concern yourself with money again. You'd know the future. What if you knew which script Universal Studios would approve and which ones they wouldn't? What if you knew which films would be a massive success? You'd be planets ahead of every other director in the world.

  "I'm going to use this book to help the world, but I'm only going to let a few people have direct access to it." Jason paused a moment. "You need me."

  Cameron walked away. Jason was right. If the Book of Days was authentic and they controlled it, it could make his career. But his dream of making movies had faded. All he wanted now was to remember Jessie and find a cure for his disintegrating brain.

  He filled his punch glass and went to study the core teachings of Future Current spelled out on two four-color posters sitting on large easels.

  "Are you learning anything?"

  For the second time in the past ten minutes Cameron was startled by someone sneaking up on him. He spun on his heel.

  Ann. He tightened his grip on his plastic cup and it snapped, a trickle of punch wound its way down the cup's side. Great.

  Where should he start? Seeing her in person was different than talking on the phone. Far different. Those eyes. Captivating. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was. And she looked leaner than when he'd last seen her. Maybe hosting Adventure Northwest required more than just standing in front of the camera.

  "Hey, Ann, hi." Cameron leaned in to give her a quick hug at the same time she extended her hand, which caused her to poke him in the stomach.

  She pulled her hand back. "Sorry."

  "No, my fault, I wasn't sure if I should . . ."

  Awkward. Just like the last time they'd seen each other.

  "Thanks for coming down here," Cameron said.

  "Sure." Ann nodded.

  "I'm thinking we'll connect tomorrow late afternoon and talk about our game plan. I have some things I need to do the first half of the day."

  "Good. Perfect. What time were you thinking? Three? Four?"

  "Let's say four. I'll call you around three thirty and we'll pick a spot."

  "Fine." Ann turned and waltzed back into the crowd, greeting fans along the way. She'd never been athletic like Jessie, but she moved with a fluid grace that was a bit mesmerizing.

  He slogged back toward his hotel and stopped to look at the Three Peaks Bakery. Closed. A sign said the building was constructed in the mid-1920s. In the window were three apple fritters that looked like they needed a home.

  He patted his stomach. Jessie and he used to have an apple fritter night two or three times a year where they'd gorge themselves on the treats and curse their decision the next day.

  Had Jessie done the same thing with Ann when they roomed together in college? Probably. He turned and trudged on. Five days already in Three Peaks. And little to show for it.

  "I'm not getting much of anywhere, Jess. You think a fritter could make me feel better?"

  By the time he stepped into the lobby of the Best Western, his legs wobbled. His exhaustion was more emotional than physical, but his body still felt like he'd spent the day climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.

  He fumbled in his front pants pocket for his hotel card and couldn't locate it. Where . . . ? Right. Back pocket. Cameron pulled it out and stared at the green stripe.

  What was his room number? 304? 324? Think! He popped himself in the forehead twice with his fist. He looked over at the hotel's night host who stared at him with raised eyebrows.

  Why couldn't he just ask the night guy behind the counter? No, he'd figure it out; he just needed to stop thinking about it for minute. He glanced around the lobby for a distraction.

  A rack of brochures next to the check-in desk caught his eye. He wandered over to it and found leaflets that boasted of guided hikes that would fascinate him, a Bavarian Village fifty miles down the road that would fill him with unforgettable memories, white-water rafting that was the "trip of a lifetime" and world-class golf courses that promised to "Take you away from it all." He was ready to be taken away from it all and checked into a new life. One with a brain that wasn't missing a spark plug or three. Where do I sign up?

  After five minutes of pretending he was reading the brochures, he broke down and approached the front desk. "Hey, can you remind me what room I'm in? Too many hotels in too many weeks and all the numbers start to blend together."

  "No problem, Mr. Vaux."

  Eschewing the elevators, he took the stairs to the second floor, the whole way fingering the rock Susan Hillman had given him. He rolled the cool, almost cold surface of the stone around his palm and stared at its intricate pattern of red lines, each one ending at a black spot on the stone. It was comforting.

  On impulse he pulled Jessie's stone out from under his shirt and held the two stones side by side. They looked good together. Jessie had said her stone was a key, but he had no idea what that meant. He'd shown the stone to three northwest historians just before he left Seattle, but none of them had any idea what the markings were. If it was a key to finding the book, he needed some way to locate the door.

  When he reached his floor and finally his door, he stuffed his card into the lock and pulled it out. The green light flared. He pushed the door handle and trudged into his room, not bothering to turn on the light. All he wanted was for sleep to consume him.

  Let me escape. Sleep come quick, okay?

  As soon as he plopped onto the russet bedspread, he jerked back up and rubbed his neck. A sharp corner of something had poked him. He fumbled for the light on the nightstand and snapped it on. A square dark maroon envelope held a thick red card inside. As he slid the card free, he couldn't help but think of Ann. She'd worn a maroon polo shirt at Jason's gathering. A great color on her.

  My dearest Mr. Cameron,

  I hope you have enjoyed our hospitality during your short visit to our town. If you don't leave within the next day, and instead choose to prolong your unwarranted escapade here, the consequences will be, shall we say, disagreeable.

  Regards,

  A friend

  Cameron crumpled the note in his hand, his eyes darting around the room as his smile turned into laughter. Excellent. He was on the right track. And he had a pretty good idea who that trail would lead to.

  CHAPTER 15

  Midmorning on Saturday, Cameron unclipped another nut from his rack, jammed it into the crack and clipped in with a carabineer. He wedged his chalk covered fingers into the crack and adjusted his foot so he could stick the hold.

  He was seventy-five feet above the forest floor and trying to keep his fear in check. Another hundred feet or so and he'd crest the ridge of the cliff and have a look at the amber and green valley below without a cascade of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  Right now the adrenaline was a torrent because the fear he'd confronted when he and Jessie learned to climb together had never left him. Could he manage it? Yes. Conquer it? Not even close. Even looking out a window from more than three stories up filled his stomach with stampeding butterflies. But the price was worth it. When he climbed, he felt Jessie and nothing else. Every other extraneous thought vanished as his concentration na
rrowed. And he didn't have to remember anything except how to stay alive.

  His next move was a micro hold about two feet above his head. With a shove off the edge with his foot, he should be able to reach it with his fingertips. He stiffened his left hand in the crack, bending his fingers to create a human anchor, then released the wall with his right hand. Cameron plunged his hand into his chalk bag then returned to his hold; trying to ignore the burn in his arms and calves.

  He took a breath and focused on the wall a quarter-inch in front of his nose.

  The climb was listed as a 5.9 in Spectacular Northwest Climbs, but it seemed closer to a 5.10. The difficulty of finding decent holds increased the higher he got. Always have three points of contact; it was a fundamental of beginning rock climbing, but this route wasn't for beginners. And while Cameron wasn't a beginner, no one would describe him as advanced.

  Squinting into the sun he saw his next hold and stretched out for it. Short by at least five inches. He reached the crux. The hardest part of the climb; the spot where the 5.9 rating came from. The only way to reach it was to shove off with his foot. His anchors would hold.

  He was taking too long deliberating the next move. Momentum. Climb with momentum, few pauses. Just go!

  Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

  Should he descend? No. He was almost halfway up and down-climbing would be harder than moving up. As his options pinged through his mind, Cameron looked down. A tactical error. Sweat seeped through the white chalk on his palms and fingers. Not good.

  To think people free climbed this route without ropes. Insane. His right leg started bouncing, the panic inside pushing its way out.

  Closing his eyes he sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slow. He laid his cheek against the cliff face and took another breath. Then another.

  You want to live without me? You want to live with your memories vanishing? You want to try to live without a mind?

  The thoughts flashed through him like they were spoken.