The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper

by Mark Frost

  I told April how Mrs. Laudner had tripped on a crack in the sidewalk in front of her house, smashing her nose flat against her cheek, and now always looks like she's walking sideways. A few minutes later I left after Mr. Hord talked about how George Washington's wooden teeth disappeared after his death and then mysteriously were found thirty years later under his bed by a maid looking for loose change.

  I still have no answers, and apparently little chance with April, who suggested that maybe someone closer to my own age could be of more help.

  June 10, 5 P.M.

  The school year is over. The summer is ahead. Dad very busy all the time with moon maps. Saw April one last time before she and Mr. Hord left for a commune in Colorado. She wished me luck, then gave me a C in English. Believe I will accelerate my studies so I can graduate early and get the hell out of here.

  July 1, 11 A.M.

  Just learned that Dad has agreed to go on a trip with the Schlurmans up to the Poconos. Have examined various ways to get out of it but all seems bleak at the moment. He's packed the Scrabble game. Marie has packed her Bible. I am doomed.

  July 4, 3 P.M.

  Have arrived at Promised Land Lake. The Schlurmans are slowly turning around in circles in a rowboat. Dad is asleep on the couch on the porch. Believe Marie is out trying to convert the creatures of the forest to Christianity. A cookout, sack races, and fireworks are planned for later. This is more than I ever dreamed of.

  July 4, 4 P.M.

  Marie lies on the swimming float in her bathing suit, reading a waterproof Bible. Observed her for some time when she was swimming from underwater with my mask and snorkel. Very much wanted to grab her legs from below and pull her into the mud.

  July 4, 7 P.M.

  Finished the cookout and are now waiting for the fireworks. Noticed that as Marie was skewering her hotdog she kept glancing at me as she slowly slid the stick through the wiener. This must be my imagination. I have been in the wilderness too long.

  July 5, 1 A.M.

  The following record is as close to fact as I am able to remember at this time:

  At approximately 9 P.M. the Schlurmans and Dad boarded a rowboat and headed to sea to watch the fireworks. I was preparing to cast off another when I heard Marie say, "Us kids will stay ashore." I looked around and quickly realized that there was no "us," just Marie and me. The folks waved and drifted out. I looked at Marie. She looked at me and then ran into the woods.

  There are those within the scouting world who say that the skill of tracking has outlived its time. I disagree. The ability to follow a trail is fundamental to understanding the world. Marie's trail was clear in both direction and intent. Fifty yards into the woods I picked up the first trace. Her shirt, hanging on a tree. The first bottle rocket exploded somewhere to the south. Twenty-five yards farther on another sign-her bermuda shorts. I quickened my pace. A shoe was next, then another. From the lake I could hear the first oohs and aahs as a cluster rocket exploded. On a branch ahead hung a small white sock with daisies on it. I gathered it up, and moved cautiously on around a large tree, under a deadfall, into a small clearing. Marie rose up out of the grass, unhooked her bra, and slid it down off her arms. Although I do not actually remember doing it, at that time I apparently removed my clothes. We then stood inches apart, her breasts touching my chest.

  "Do you believe in God?" asked Marie. I said I most certainly did. She smiled, kissed my chest, then slid her tongue all the way down to my penis and took it into her mouth.

  The explosion that followed was unlike any I have ever experienced before. The rocket landed within thirty yards and exploded with a concussion that knocked me over. Then smaller clusters began exploding and streaming into the air. I believe at that point Marie stopped sucking and began screaming. I pulled her down and shielded her as best I could from the missiles landing around us. It was with only the greatest of luck that we did not suffer a direct hit. They landed to the left of us, the right of us, above us in the trees. And then it was quiet. I told Marie that it was all right, that we were safe. She sat up, looked at me, wiped away a tear, then emitted a scream of such a high pitch as to render it almost inaudible, and ran off into the night.

  Few forces in nature are as frightening as fire. Particularly when one is naked. The battle that followed lasted for almost an hour. What is left of my pants could hardly make a handkerchief. The hope that Marie had run off to get help was a false one. With only my clothes as weapons, the fire and I fought a running battle up and down the clearing from one hot spot to another. I lost my shirt to a small spruce, Marie's to a blueberry bush, and most of my pants to a large clump of grass. Believe Marie's socks and bra were also victims because I was not able to locate them after the flames were out.

  I left Marie's blackened tennis shoes outside of the Schlurmans' cabin. Dad took one look at me when I returned and asked me what happened to my pants.

  "Wildfire," I replied. He nodded, thought for a moment, then we both agreed that fire was a very dangerous thing and not to be taken lightly.

  July 5, 11 A.M.

  Saw Marie this morning. She thanked me for saving her tennis shoes, and said that she was sorry that I was going back to the city. She then swam out to the float and began reading her Bible.

  I lied last night. I do not believe in God, at least one who isn't actively working against me.

  July 12, 9 P.M.

  Finished last requirement for Eagle Scout status by giving a five-minute speech on fire safety and prevention. The scoutmaster said I brought an excitement and realism to the subject that he had rarely heard.

  July 14, 11 P.M.

  Received news today that Marie drowned this morning at Promised Land Lake. She apparently hit her head while diving off the swimming platform. She was alone at the time, so there was no one there to know she was in trouble. When they found her it was too late.

  I do not believe in goodness in the world anymore. What is good either dies or is killed. I know that if I had been there, I could have saved her. I also know that does not matter and that wanting something to be different will not make it so. Marie is dead, and I feel empty and sad.

  "Thanks for saving my sneakers" was the last thing I will ever hear her say. "Sure thing" I said back to her. I want to remember it having been better than that. I want to remember saying all the things I had never said and wanted to say to every person I had ever known. "Don't forget your civics homework." "Thanks for saving my sneakers."

  * * *

  Moments of silence.

  * * *

  Sure thing.

  July 17, 10 P.M.

  They buried Marie today in a bright silver coffin. There were large white clouds in the sky. She would have liked that.

  July 20, 1 A.M.

  Do not see the meaning of it.

  August 2, 4 A.M.

  Cannot sleep, cannot sleep, cannot sleep.

  August 15, 3 A.M.

  Talked with Dad for much of the night. Both agreed that change is needed, or I will lose my marbles. Dad always seems to find the right words. Told him that I feel very guilty because I was not in love with Marie and that she might be alive if I had been. He said that the only way love ever affected death was in making it more painful. He then told me the French farmer that they had killed during the war was not a collaborator, and that the villagers who told them that just owed him money. We both sat for a very long time without saying a word. Then he told me that we all fail, and that we would again and again, and that was just the way it was.

  September 11, 9 A.M.

  Have completed all necessary requirements for graduation from school. Dad has given me a thousand dollars, saying that it would give me a good start. Do not know where it is that I'm going or for how long. All I know is that I do not believe in anything anymore and that I must find something to believe in or I will cease to be. I know that there are people, there must be people in the world who do have answers.

  Dad said that no matter where I go there are two
things that I must watch out for. Bad water, and snakes. I promised that I would be very careful in both of these areas. We then hugged each other for a very long time, and he left for work to print more moon maps. I hope he will be well when I'm away.

  Have decided not to take along the tape recorder, it would not be practical, and I do not feel the need of its companionship, if that is what it has provided for the last several years. Will stop on the way out of town at Marie's grave to leave a note and the small glass pyramid April gave me. Have also made some calculations. Expect that by the time I cross my first ocean, the lightest of Mom's ashes will be drifting out to sea.

  A strange thing happened last night. I woke to find her ring back on my finger. That is where it will stay.

  * * *

  Several seconds of silence.

  * * *

  This is me, Dale Cooper.

  * * *

  Part 2

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  On September 10, 1970, Dale tested out of the remaining requirements for graduation from school. On the eleventh he made one more recording, then stepped into a bus on Germantown Road, and was not seen for three years. The following letters are the only clues as to his whereabouts for those years.

  * * *

  January 1, 1971

  Dear Dad, Water bad, have seen no snakes. Health sound. Moon very bright. Would like very much to eat some good chocolate. Hope you are well.

  Love,

  Dale

  January 1, 1972

  Dear Dad, Snakes very bad. Water good. Saw some nice rocks. Need a good ship.

  Love,

  Dale

  January 1, 1973

  Stopped looking.

  Dale

  * * *

  Part 3

  Chapter 1

  "It was the spring of '73 when I saw Dale again. I had just bought a Dodge Charger, midnight blue with a silver racing stripe, was stopped at a red light, and there he was. Standing on a corner of Germantown Road, in a black suit. I could tell right away that this was not the same Dale I had seen three years earlier. He seemed older, stronger, and his eyes had an intensity I had never seen before. I remember asking him how the trip had been, and all he said was "Damn good." I don't know what it was that he saw or did out there, but it was obviously a very powerful experience. I can only imagine that it was somewhat like the car accident that started me on the road to the ministry."

  Bradley Schlurman

  Best friend

  Minister

  April 19, 1973, 9 P.M.

  The moon map business seems to have taken a downward plunge. Dad otherwise seems well. Will make no attempt to record the events of the last three years, other than to say the whole universe is one bright pearl, and there is no need to understand it.

  Have noted the following changes have taken place while I've been away. Heels on shoes are larger. Tempers shorter. Awnings seem to be declining in popularity. Trust and elm trees are disappearing. And J. Edgar Hoover is dead. Do not know whether any or all of these events are related.

  Am not sure of the direction my life will take at this juncture. I am sure of nothing except that to believe you know where you are headed is not to understand where one is at the moment. Saying that, there are several things I am interested in. The circus, puzzles, and sex.

  May 7, 7 P.M.

  Have taken the SAT test in preparation for college should I find myself there instead of the circus. Believe both offer great opportunities to explore my stated interests. Noted several inaccuracies in the verbal portion of test and have passed these along to testing officials.

  I know that it had been my intention for many years to enter into the service of the FBI. I must admit that my experience of the past several years does not lend itself to the belief that good can or will defeat evil. This is not a pessimistic view, but simply an observation of facts as I have experienced them.

  May 20, 7 P.M.

  Have received test scores back. Believe the concentration techniques that I learned on my travels did do some good. Scored 800 in both English and math. I find the need for testing in this manner to be of little use in truly evaluating an individual. A truer test, I believe, is the challenge of emptying a mind. A good leap from a bamboo tower with a vine tied around your ankles would go a long way in filling our colleges with a better caliber of students.

  May 30, 11 P.M.

  Have decided to seek employment for the summer. Have compiled a list of skills that I believe will be useful in acquiring needed funds.

  1. Fire building

  2. Map reading

  3. Walking

  4. Knife throwing

  5. Chanting

  6. Breath control

  7. Bread baking

  8. Juggling

  9. Rice planting

  10. Sitting in small dark rooms

  This should prove more than adequate in finding challenging employment.

  June 10, 9 P.M.

  Have gotten a job digging holes for trees to be planted in. Could not be happier. Dug eighteen very good holes today. My digging partner is a man of about fifty who I believe was once incarcerated in prison from the look of a tattoo he has on a forearm. He is black, from the South, and walks with a slight Iimp, but that is all I know of him at this time. We dug together for eight hours and didn't exchange one word. I believe there is much to learn from this man.

  June 12, 8 P.M.

  Note that my knife-throwing skills have eroded to a less than satisfactory level. Lost several dollars in a test of skill to my digging partner, who I now know as Jim. He hit the mark ten out of ten times, whereas I missed on my tenth throw, splitting the toe of my boot. Jim said that I wasn't seeing the target. I asked him if he practiced Zen, and he said that all he practiced was staying alive.

  June 18, 1 A.M.

  Accompanied Jim to his room in a run-down section of downtown tonight. In the many places I have seen, never have I walked into one single room and seen such a sight. The room was. small, maybe ten by twelve. It had a bed, a chair, but no other furniture. A single bare light bulb hung from the wall. It was full - floor to ceiling - of boxes of paper that Jim said he had been writing on for twenty years. He called it his remembrances. No one had ever seen this before. He said that I was the first. "Just so someone would know, someone who would remember." Then he told me that I dug a good hole and that I should get out of here before someone started thinking something was going on.

  On the bus ride back to home the meaning of the visit to his room became apparent to me. By the time I was able to catch another bus back downtown, already too much time had passed. The firemen were just mopping up. Jim's room and several of the surrounding ones were gone. The firemen said the place went up like a torch. There was little they could do but stop it from spreading to the entire building. Jim's body was not found in the room, and no one saw him leave the building. The firemen suspect that the heat was so intense from all the paper that only a forensic examination of the room will turn up any remains.

  I do not believe they will find any. As I stood watching the firemen wrap up their hoses, the shadow of a man became faintly visible for an instant in an alley across the street. I then detected what I thought to be the muffled sound of crying. I moved through the crowd toward the alley and soon realized as I drew closer and closer that it was not crying at all, but laughter. When I reached the alley it was empty. I called out, searched up and down to no avail. All that was there was a freshly sharpened pencil where the laughter had come from. A message, I suspect.

  July 1, 7 P.M.

  Have been rejected by a small traveling circus that I sent a letter of introduction to. The owner of the circus pointed out that anyone who would write a letter seeking employment from a circus was probably not the kind of person they were looking for. He also said that he was plumb full of knife throwers already and was only looking for a bearded lady at the moment. I have therefore accepted an offer to attend Haverford College just ou
tside of Philadelphia.