A Map of Firdale and the Surrounding Area [https://i.imgur.com/KsVhvDh.png]

FIRDALE

‘So these are the woods.’ Flanagan looked ahead through the windshield. ‘Less woodsy than I pictured.’

The hills to the right of the highway and the flat to the left were dotted with stumps. Low bushes and thickets filled the spaces between.

‘Pull off here, would you?’ Jones said, pointing to a Christmas tree farm coming into view on the left side of the highway.

‘Well,’ Flanagan said as he turned onto the gravel driveway of the tree lot, ‘this is kind of a forest.’ The rocks popped under the tires as he pulled forward into the empty parking area. ‘A tiny, tiny forest.’

He brought the car to a stop in front of a small trailer, like the kind used for offices on a construction site.

Even rows of trees, five to six feet in height and several hundred in number, extended back into the flat from the edge of the parking area. Back toward the highway and at the other edge of the parking lot stood a wooden shed with the large, double doors of a barn.

The door to the office trailer swung open and a man with a dark, trim beard emerged. He made his way toward the car.

‘Bit early for a tree.’ The man said as he drew closer and as Jones emerged from the passenger side of the car.

‘I’m looking for Firdale.’ Jones said.

Now that the man was nearer, Jones could see that his beard was unnaturally black and at odds with his greying eyebrows.

‘You’ve found it.’ The man said. ‘I’m Scales, proud proprietor of the Firdale U-Cut-Em.’

Flanagan rolled down the driver’s side window and chimed in with theatrical solemnity. ‘He yearns to sleep beneath the trees.’

‘Well,’ Scales laughed, ‘you’re welcome to sleep under these trees, for the time being.’ He extended his hand to Jones for a shake.

Jones took Scales’ hand and shook it. ‘I’m Jones.’ he said.

Without releasing his grip, Scales said. ‘The U-Cut-Em won’t get busy for a few months. And I can always use the company.’

The handshake grew awkward for Jones and he took the initiative to end it.

‘I remember trees everywhere.’ Jones said as he scanned the scrub growth beyond the bounds of the Christmas tree farm.

‘There’s still some big trees,’ Scales said, ‘as you get into Firdale proper.’

Scales motioned to the hills on the other side of the highway. A small number of mobile homes were dotted throughout the heavy brush. Between them, a two-lane road climbed the hill and disappeared at its crest.

‘Just over the hill and on the lake.’ Scales finished.

Flanagan opened the rear passenger door and grabbed a frame pack loaded with sufficient equipment for an extended camping trip. He slung it onto his shoulders.

‘Then I guess that’s the plan.’ He said.

‘You sure?’ Flanagan asked, still in the driver’s seat with an elbow propped out the window. He beckoned Jones closer with a finger and whispered low enough that Scales couldn’t hear. ‘And you want to carry all the cash?’

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Jones pursed his lips, nodded, and adjusted the pack.

Flanagan offered. ‘I could hold it and run some out whenever you need.’ 

Jones shook his head. ‘Defeats the purpose.’

‘Well then,’ Flanagan made an open-handed sign of the cross from the driver’s seat, ‘May the Lord God bless and keep you.’

With a wink, Flanagan swung the car around, accelerated down the driveway, and made the right turn onto the highway.

As he watched the car depart, Jones noticed a woman walking the shoulder of the highway, approaching the tree lot from the opposite direction from which he and Flanagan had arrived.  She smiled and waved. Her camouflage t-shirt and green hiking shorts were set off by the red bandana over her hair. She stopped at the entrance to the tree farm and stood, thumbs popped under the cords of her string pack.

Scales’ friendly demeanor cooled a few degrees on seeing the woman. ‘Well,’ he said without taking his eyes off of her, ‘the offer stands to camp here for a while.’ He made his way toward the office trailer and turned back just as he reached the door. ‘If things don’t work out in town.’

After the door was shut, Jones could hear Scales lock the door behind him.

Jones walked across the parking lot and it wasn’t long before he was at the entrance to the lot and face to face with the woman.

‘Hey.’ She said with familiarity.

‘Hey.’ Jones answered, unsure whether this was someone he should remember from somewhere. 

‘Headed toward town?’ The woman asked.

Without another word, she crossed the highway and started up the road on the other side. When Jones caught up and matched her pace, she introduced herself.

‘I’m Essie.’

‘I’m Jones.’

They continued past the driveway to the first mobile home on the hillside before Essie spoke again.

‘So, Jones,’ she asked, ‘I take it you’re looking for something?’

Jones couldn’t hide his surprise that this person he just met was so seemingly in tune with his thoughts. 

‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘you could say that I am.’

A man sat under the awning of the mobile home they just passed.  Upon seeing Jones and Essie, he stood from his camp chair, folded it closed, and went inside.

Essie took the string pack off her shoulders and held it in front of her as they walked up the hill and past the driveway to a second mobile home. She drew the top of the bag open and inserted a hand.

‘Then I guess,’ she said, ‘you’ll be wanting this.’

She extracted her hand and, in it, she held a bright, red bandana. She extended the bandana to Jones who, after a hesitation, reached out and took it.

‘Okay.’ He said. ‘Thank you.’

Soon, Jones and Essie had reached the driveway to a third mobile home and were at the crest of the small hill. Jones stopped as the view beyond came into view.

‘This,” he said, ‘is more like I remember.’

Stretched into the distance were the waters of a lake. At the foot of the hill lay a collection of bungalows. A few two-story buildings, the type with retail at street level and residences above, lined each side of the road as it approached the water. A large building with a wraparound porch sat at the end of the road where it met the shore. Large, plywood letters spelled out ‘OWL’ on its roof. The shore on the left edge of the town was dominated by a complex of industrial looking buildings. 

But the most stunning feature and what matched Jones’ memories was a peninsula filled with tall fir trees, just offshore and connected by a spit of land extending from the right side of the town. The green stand of forest stood in contrast to the blue of the lake and the scrub along its shores.

‘Lake Firdale.’ Essie said. And then she smiled. ‘You’re here.’

Jones smiled at the forested pocket of what he remembered from camping as a child.

‘This will work.’ He said.

Essie smiled in return.

‘But first,’ she said, ‘a quick errand.’

She raised her eyebrows and started down the driveway toward the mobile home at the crest of the hill.  After she’d covered a few steps, she turned back.

‘You coming?’ She asked.

‘I’m good.’ Jones answered. ‘Need to double check my gear.’

Essie continued down the drive until she disappeared into the thick brush on the side of the mobile home.

Jones leaned his pack against his leg, checked the attachment of the sleeping bag to its base, and then pulled open the drawstring of the uppermost section. On top of the folded clothes lay a clear, plastic bag. Within the bag were several, banded stacks of cash.

Jones reclosed the bag and took a deep inhale of the fresh air off of the lake. The only sounds were the rustle of the wind through the scrub and the chirp of a lone bird which circled him once overhead before gliding down the driveway and taking perch on the front gutter of the mobile home.

The flash which followed was overwhelming. An instant later the explosion of the mobile home punched him with heat and debris. Jones was just registering the concussive sound as he flew backward and landed on the asphalt of the roadway.