by David Cline
Over the years a few had offered to rearrange their entire lives to fit Wood into the picture, but he had always felt too guilty and wouldn’t allow them to give up their ambitions for him. It would be like taking an instrument away from a musician. Or the paint brush from an artist. He wondered if he would ever meet someone who he would give up his job at S.A.T.R.A. for. Was it an issue of finding the right woman, or timing? Perhaps he would need to have a paradigm shift of sorts before putting the passport away and buying a ring.
Deep down, he sometimes longed for stability. Waking up in an unfamiliar place every day grew wearisome. There was a hollowness in it. Ironically, it seemed that in the social media culture of the new generation the nomad lifestyle was what everyone desired. A life of nothing tying you down, no responsibility and no commitments.
Wood smiled. He couldn’t blame them. As a teenager, he wanted the same thing. Now though, his perspective had transformed. Maybe matured would be a better word. The house with the picket fence in the suburbs with a few kids and a dog did not sound too bad.
He stole another glance toward Amara and marveled at her tranquility. She was independent, intelligent, and gregarious. Could she be interested in a life like that? He decided that before their journey together ended, he would make sure to find out.
Wood had met people over the years who were convinced there was only one soulmate for everyone. Wood disagreed. He had thought any of the amazing women he had met throughout his life could potentially be his soulmate. It just took commitment and a shared vision of the future together.
The bow of the boat lowered in the water and the night became quiet as Wilkins shut off the engine. A raven squawked at them from the shoreline.
“The channel we are looking for is right over there,” Wilkins said.
Wood and Amara looked in the direction he pointed. It was hard to distinguish much in the darkness. The top of the moon had crested the mountain ridge and provided just enough light to make out a channel of water branching off the main body of the lake.
“Talk about complete isolation,” Amara said. Her voice was hushed but full of excitement. “Even after all these years, there isn’t a soul nearby. If the world were hunting me, I would definitely consider this spot when contemplating a location to live in exile. Especially back in the 1940’s.”
Wood bent down, picked up two long oars and tossed one to Wilkins. “Maybe when we arrive there will be a for sale sign out front. Lake side property. Could be a great vacation house.”
Amara shivered. “For some reason, even being this close to the mansion gives me the creeps. I think I’ll pass.” She swapped places with Wilkins so he could paddle. “If you find any souvenirs though, make sure to snag me one.”
“Hope you own a collection of moth balls and cobwebs,” Wilkins said, rearranging some gear to get comfortable. “I doubt we will find much more than that.” He looked at Wood with an eyebrow raised. “Except for maybe shotgun pellets in the back. Last thing I need right now is a crazy hermit chasing us through the woods in the darkness. That would ruin an otherwise perfect vacation.” He looked up at the sky and drew in a long breath. “This place is too perfect to possess evil.”
Wood smiled. “Just make sure to give me a head start. You know how I am sprinting through low hanging foliage in the dark.”
Wilkins lowered the oar silently into the water. “Of course, old buddy. You would inflict more damage on yourself than any firearm could. Just make sure not to forget about me when I go down. You might need to carry me out.” He gave Wood an appraising look. “Think you would still be up for it? I’ve seen how you’ve been eating lately. Pretty soon when you go to a restaurant instead of giving you a menu, they’ll need to give you an estimate.”
Wood and Amara both laughed a little louder than they should have. The echoes rebounded off the far shore and faded into the night. After a few moments of silence, the crickets began to chirp again. “You know I would defend you like a mama bear defending a cub,” Wood whispered. “If you go down, I will be by your side until the end.”
Wilkins looked out across the water for a moment and then nodded slightly. “I know you would,” he whispered, almost to himself.
“Will you two quit talking about going down in fire and glory,” Amara whispered, “and instead focus on getting this thing done. I would love to be in bed before the sun comes up.”
“I think the lady makes a strong case for us to proceed,” Wilkins said.
“Indeed, proceed we shall.”
Amara rolled her eyes and sat back in the cushioned seat.
“There is only the faintest hint of a breeze up here,” Wood said. “Not enough to affect the water.” He gestured out to the dark expanse. “Not even a ripple.”
Wilkins braced his feet against one of the containers and began to row. The veins in his neck bulged as he took long deep strokes. “With no wind, and no current, we should make excellent time.”
Wood looked back at Amara. “My sweet lady,” he said, in a voice of an age long passed. “By the strength of my arm, like the many knights errant before me, I take upon my shoulders the defense of kingdoms, the protection of damsels, the succor of orphans, the chastisement of the proud, and the recompense of the humble.” He paused. “And now, the strength of my arm will act as your engine to ensure your imminent arrival at the worthiest of destinations.”
Wilkins shook his head but remained silent.
“My only request,” Wood continued, “is you steer this vessel true like you steer the heart of so humble a knight like myself. Your exquisite elegance supersedes the very heavens whose celestial light even now illuminates such flawless and raw beauty.”
Amara laughed softly. “If it be true,” she said, without missing a beat, “that the valor of thy mighty arm correspondeth to the accounts of thy immortal fame, thou needs must favor this most unfortunate maiden who hath come from such distant lands, following thy famous name and searching for thee to remedy her most egregious of afflictions.”
Wood stopped rowing and looked at her with his mouth agape. He had been rendered completely speechless. “Touché,” he finally mustered as he turned and focused back onto the oar knowing he had fallen a little more in love.
“No more wisecracks from you two,” she said with a smile. She wagged her finger like a chastising parent. “We’re getting close and I don’t want either of you to get shot.”
They rowed in silence for a minute and then Wood asked, “Why don’t mobsters like Jehovah witnesses?” When no one answered, he said, “Because mobsters don’t like any witnesses.”
A few more seconds of silence passed and then Wilkins said, “Hitler, Bormann and Goebbels walk into a bar…” Before he could continue, Amara threw a drybag at his head.
They continued up the inlet by the light of the rising moon. Tall, fallen pine trees sloped into the water from the shore. A couple times Wood braced himself when the boat passed over the trees, sure the bottom would scrape. A group of ducks gave them an apathetic look when they drifted silently by.
The channel was wider than Wood had estimated. He had seen many lakes smaller than just the arm they now traveled up. His gaze swept the shoreline, searching for any beaches or gaps in the thick foliage, but the dark mass looked impenetrable.
Amara hugged the left shore. According to the map, and local legend, the mansion was located on the right side where the channel formed a shallow cove. Two nearby islands hid the property from view unless you were positioned perfectly.
Wood squinted into the darkness and tried to make sense of the black shapes. He thought about what Amara had said and agreed with her assessment. This would be the perfect location to live in exile. Besides the sheer geographical remoteness, the position of the mansion was strategically chosen because of how easy it would be to defend. Back in the 1940’s the occupants wouldn’t have to fear threats from the air. The only practical way to arrive would be by boat. The two small islands offshore from the mansion’s dock cr
eated a sort of gauntlet where boats would be forced to squeeze between them.
The German’s were famous in WWII for building strategic defensive positions all over Europe. If they had set up various machine gun nests with a few MG 42’s, any unwelcome visitor would be toast. Those spit out 1200 rounds a minute and had an effective firing range of over 2000 meters.
“I think that’s it,” Amara whispered. Wood and Wilkins swiveled toward her. Across the channel Wood saw two dark shapes rise out of the water. “Those are the islands,” Amara said. “The mansion is located on the far side. We’re close. I’m going to drop you guys off a quarter mile farther up shore.”
As Wood and Wilkins muscled the oars, Amara swiveled the bow around and pointed the boat at a 45-degree angle back toward the opposite shore. If they followed her line the entire distance, they would hit land where a group of boulders jutted a few meters into the water.
Besides their labored breathing, the night was quiet. Wood wondered if it was unusually quiet. He tried to remember all the nights spent in the mountains back in Utah. As the temperatures continued to cool, he remembered the insect’s symphony would decrescendo into stillness. The branches of pine trees would rustle in the wind. The warm fire would crackle. The thought made him smile. There were few things in this world that spread comfort and hope like a warm fire on a cold and ominous night.
“Stop rowing,” Amara whispered, now standing, and looking ahead with furrowed eyebrows. “Our momentum should take us the rest of the way in.”
Wood scooted forward and reached out to one of the boulders. The surface was covered in a soft moss.
Wilkins leaned out wide over the side. “If we maneuver 10 more feet to the left, there is a perfect spot. The boat will be concealed in these rocks.”
Together they secured the boat and then created an assembly line over the slick boulders to unload all the gear. The beach was only a few feet wide and strewn with rocks and fallen pine trees.
“This spot is perfect,” Wood said. He tightened the strap to a headlamp and placed it around his forehead.
Wilkins knelt beside a large canvas backpack. He placed the metal detector to one side and sat back for a second to prioritize what they might need.
“It looks like you guys are going on a month-long backpacking trip,” Amara said. She opened a bag and donned a pink fleece jacket. She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s getting cold.”
Wilkins played with the scruff on his chin as he appraised the gear scattered around him. He looked back at her. “I am a gear junkie,” he said. “You never know what we will need.” He looked at her jacket and grinned. “I bet people can spot you from space in that thing.”
She raised her hands defensively. “At least I’m going to stay warm. Besides, not much happening around here.” She gestured to the tiny beach.
Wood turned on a radio and handed it to her. “You can communicate with us anytime. We’ll have headphones so don’t worry about calling us at the wrong moment.” He clipped a radio to his belt and ran a wire under his shirt.
Amara shook her head as she watched them prepare to set out. “This is like watching the Air Force napalm a forest to kill some mosquitoes.”
Wood lifted a backpack to his shoulders and tightened the straps down over his chest. “There is no such thing as overkill when it comes to mosquitoes.”
“Right,” Amara said. “One of the three things you hate in this life.”
Wilkins put a pair of headphones over his ears and clicked his radio on. “Don’t leave without us,” he said. “National Geographic would find us years from now living with a pack of wolves.”
“I would obviously be the Alpha,” Wood said, taking a quick swig from a water bottle.
Amara laughed. “Obviously.” She put an arm around both of them. “Don’t take too long. I don’t enjoy being alone for extended periods of time. I get bored easily. Don’t be surprised to come back and find a wild boar rotating slowly over a bon fire and me girded in nothing but a loin cloth dancing in circles.”
“Don’t tease me,” Wood said. He looked around the tiny beach. “If you start getting bad vibes or feel threatened at all, I would take the boat and park it in the middle of the channel. Not many things can get you out there.”
“If something does start coming at you in the middle of the water,” Wilkins continued, “open the throttle and set a speed record back to the city. Don’t look back until you are tied down to the dock.”
“I am more worried about something happening to you two,” she said. “I doubt I could organize much of a rescue effort down here by myself. It could be a while.”
“We will be in contact through the radios,” Wood said.
She kissed them each on the cheek and walked them to the tree line. “I feel like I am escorting my kids to their first day of school.” As they crossed the threshold into darkness she whispered after them, “be careful.”
Wood fell into pace behind Wilkins who swept the metal detector in front of them as rhythmically as a metronome. The dim red lights from their headlamps illuminated only a few feet in front of them. Beyond was ominous blackness.
The ground was as soft as carpet. Short wild grass grew through pine needles and scattered leaves. They traveled a couple hundred yards in complete silence. An owl perched in a nearby tree swiveled its head and hooted at them. The large eyes glowed red in the light from their lamps.
Wood kept his right arm at eyelevel to shield himself from wayward branches. Ahead of him Wilkins was careful not to spring branches backwards, but his attention was mostly focused on the metal detector.
When another branch swung and knocked the left headphone out of Wood’s ear, he allowed Wilkins to move further ahead before setting out again. He pulled a couple pine needles from a nearby tree and brought them to his nose. If there was one scent that immediately brought on a strong feeling of nostalgia, it was fresh pine needles.
His legs began to burn and realized they must be gaining elevation. It had been hard to tell from the maps they had scoured but it had seemed there was a ridge they would have to crest before starting down again toward the mansion.
He stepped through a narrow gap between two thick trees and tripped over Wilkins, who had stopped abruptly. He was on his knees, carefully brushing dirt aside with his hands. Ahead of them was a small clearing. From the light in the sky, Wood saw the elevation flatten and then descend on the other side. They must have reached the crest of the ridge.
Narrow game trails crisscrossed through waist-high plants. Young trees battled thick bushes for dominance as they raced toward the sun. Below him, Wilkins whistled softly.
Wood crouched down beside him and adjusted the headlamp to point down. Wilkins had uncovered about six inches of undergrowth and dirt. He carefully brushed away one more layer and something metallic reflected harshly in the red light.
“That doesn’t look like a landmine,” Wood whispered.
For a moment, they both stared. The shape was rectangular and about the size of a domino. The once shiny brass was now stained a dark brown. Moisture in the ground over the past few decades had caused the metal to corrode and tarnish.
Wilkins gently picked it up and scraped some grime away with his thumbnail. He flipped it over and leaned in close. On the front, preserved after all these years, an eagle with a swastika clutched in its talons was engraved into the metal. He looked at Wood and smiled. “It’s a lighter,” he whispered.
In a quick motion he flipped open the lid and tried to spin the spark wheel against the stone. After a few attempts, a weak spark appeared. “Still works.”
He handed it to Wood who held it closely in front of his eyes. He spun it slowly. “In all our years together, have we ever been this lucky? I can’t recall one instance we found what we were looking for in the first half hour.” He traced the engravement with his forefinger. “I’ve seen a picture of the same lighter in war history books. I would place this lighter back to around the 1940’s. The
timeline fits. What’s it doing all the way up here?”
He looked up at Wilkins who had stood and was now staring toward the far side of the clearing with a thoughtful expression on his face. He turned his gaze southward, and without a word, picked up the metal detector and set out again.
They wound through thick vegetation on a narrow trail, probably used by deer and rabbits. Instead of traversing across the clearing and heading down the other side, Wilkins swiveled right and began heading to the south side. Even in the darkness, Wood saw the slope fall away at a steep angle.
When they arrived at the edge, Wilkins paused for a moment. From his vantage point, Wood saw the reflection of the Milky Way out on the lake’s surface. They were high enough now that, he could see the entire length of the channel, as well as almost the entire way back toward the city. The view was spectacular, even in the middle of the night.
Wilkins suddenly lifted his arm and pointed. “There,” he said.
The direction Wilkins pointed angled down over the edge. Wood didn’t see anything but barren rocky outcrops. The slope was too steep to walk straight down so they made a series of switchbacks traveling diagonally. Wood was so concentrated on his footing that this time he did run into Wilkins, who had once again stopped in front of him.
“Incredible,” Wilkins whispered. The excitement in his voice was palpable.
Wood peered around Wilkins’ dark silhouette and saw a structure directly ahead of them. They approached and stopped at the threshold. The roof had long since collapsed but everything else seemed as sturdy as a bunker. The walls had been constructed from a myriad of uniquely sized rocks. Their placement was so perfect, it felt as smooth as cement when Wood ran his hand along the outer wall.
Wilkins finished Wood’s thought for him. “I bet these rocks were quarried from somewhere nearby.” He gestured behind him. “I would guess somewhere above us.” He put his hands behind his head and let out a long breath. “The masonry skill is exquisite.”
Wood looked out toward the lake. “Another perfect location for a lookout,” he said. “Your view is unobstructed for miles up here.” He pointed out in the direction they had traveled. “If someone had been stationed here, even in the middle of the night, they would have been able to spot us before we had even killed the engines of our boat in the main channel.”
