Ch 32

Ben was bored, sitting in a cheap lawn chair by his RV, which was parked in a different patch of 'the middle of nowhere' than the 'middle of nowhere' his single-wide trailer. He had bought the RV years ago with the idea that having two places he could live was better than one. He didn't own the land it was sitting on, but nobody in Hope gave a shit about the wasteland surrounding the town. The RV had been inexpensive, a big rambling pile that might make it to the Pacific coast and back before the wheels fell off and the engine literally exploded. Vaughan, who had always been the go-to man for oil changes and other in-depth car maintenance issues, promised an explosion if they pushed the vehicle too far. He had suggested that they purchase some black market explosives and accelerate the process, but Ben had told him no.

There were large, expensive solar panels surrounding the site, tripods that folded out three panels like a flower and followed the sun automatically; on the ground of the front, back and side opposite the entrance. Ben noted with some amusement that each solar pod had cost as much as the RV itself. The panels were attached to to a bank of high end rechargeable batteries that were advertised to provide two weeks of constant power at full charge, but Ben had never had a chance to test them, and basically just used the whole system to run three light bulbs and a computer. He distinctly remembered thinking 'Do not cast pearls before swine,' as he was buying them, thinking of the dirty exterior of his rig, and then, while laughing hysterically to himself, wondered if Jesus was in-fact trying to make a joke.

It seemed an odd thing to laugh about, but Ben had been running the kind of high that only comes from spending a large sum of money after coming into wealth unexpectedly, back when his endcoins had massively increased in value.

Ben knew he was bored, because as he stared at the solar panels out the side window of the RV, he felt a surge of laughter coming on. Ben's stash of weed, a quantity large enough to attract the attention of the DEA if he played his cards really wrong was untouched as he sat there, staring out the window. Memories he wasn't supposed to think about, of the resurrected man and his battle with wolves, bears on two legs and walking trees, bubbled to the surface and then fell back down, suppressed by his own better judgment.

In the end, it wasn't the thought of treasure, or combat, or even power that compelled him to stand up suddenly and stuff a backpack full of essential survival items, along with a bubble wrapped bong and a healthy supply of weed. He sat in the drivers seat of his old brown Accord and hesitated one more time, before the reason rose up in his mind, clear as day.

No, in the end, it was his memory of a peaceful breeze, of the deep breath he had taken with Doug and Lou. Never in his life, never had he felt so all right, and never had he felt so alive.

–

Ben drove slowly, doubt eating away at his resolve. His old Honda bucked and jumped, hitting every bump and hole, threatening to give him a headache. The sun was high overhead, and the yellows and browns of the desert badland around him passed unnoticed. Ben stared straight ahead, body hunched over the wheel, his mind tense.

“What the hell am I doing? That place is fucking dangerous, Ben, you stupid son of a bitch. It's full of wild animals, vicious wild animals that WILL attack you. You're going to die out there, you know that right? You're going to get yourself killed, and Polk's gonna cry. Just turn around. Just turn the fuck around.”

Ben kept driving, now glancing in his side mirror, checking the possibility of a U Turn. He was, of course, right. He had no business going to such a dangerous place. Nobody invited him, nobody needed saving up there. It was so selfish of him to be doing this alone. More than that, it was wrong. Who the hell did he think he was? Some kind of adventurer? He was just a fucking stoner following another stupid fucking idea, only this time it was going to get him killed.

Ben slowed down and turned the wheel hard left, turning around. He drove even slower away than he had towards the mountain. His mind was quiet, and he had a sick feeling in his chest and his stomach, along with a perverted sense of relief. He was just another coward, after all. Nobody in his family was brave, nobody in his town had any drive at all, and he was just another one of them. Just another NPC wandering around, waiting for something good to happen to them that would never come. They were weak. He was weak too.

Ben turned on the radio to drown out his mind. All the stations were static this far out, and he began cycling through them, one at a time, growing more and more frustrated as he went along.

PSSSSSSST.

PSSSSSSSST.

PSSSSS-rock-SSSSST.

On and on. Then, abruptly, he got a clear station. On it, 'The kids aren't all right' by the offspring had just started playing. As he listened to it, and the very familiar lyrics washed over him, Ben started to shake. The road under him was cracked and torn. All his friend were grown up now, and all of their hopes and dreams were dead. All their chances in life, all the meager good fortune that had ever been afforded them had been lost.

Karen was an addict. William shot himself five years ago. McCrea couldn't afford that college he'd been accepted to. Brian OD'd three years ago. And me? I just sit around all day smoking pot and floating from temp job to temp job. They'd all had so many dreams when they were younger, and all of them were sure, so fucking sure, that they were going to get out of this shitty town and take life head on.

Not one of them had done it. And in a moment of clarity, Ben realized why. It was a thousand little moments like this one, a thousand surrenders both big and small over their lives. They all turned away from the mountain, one way or another.

Ben scowled and turned a hard left, flipping around and driving towards his original destination with considerable speed.

Not today, he thought. I'm doing it for all of us. I'm going to see what happens when you say yes.

–

Ben stood at the base of the mountain. He was strapped in with an automatic rifle of some kind, Ben didn't know very much about guns, fully loaded magazine locked in, scanning the area for threats; weapons were disturbingly easy to come by in Hope.

“Well,” Ben said aloud, calming his nerves “now that I'm here, alone, on a mountain that shits out wolves and actual monsters, alone, I'm starting to once again think this is a really stupid idea.” He looked around, first to his left and then to his right, scanning the area. There really was nothing and nobody around here, nothing but miles and miles of scorched flat desert ground.

Well, Ben reflected, stalling for time, there was almost nothing; he was able to pick out the occasional bit of trash from Louden's party, along with some cigarette butts that had been left behind from his last trip. Remembering Vaughan's favorite movie, Ben took a deep breath and shouted as loudly as he could.

“Fuck you, Fear!” and began his hike.

--

He was taking his time as he climbed, leaving the path he had used the previous three trips and exploring around the base, occasionally stopping for a cigarette and throwing the butt on the ground as he cautiously listened and scanned the area for any signs of danger. After about two hours of nothing, Ben's level of caution had significantly lowered, and he began to backtrack to a defendable area he had scouted out earlier to take a break.

Ben's defendable area was at the bottom of a sheer cliff face, about fifteen feet high with a large clearing at the base, and surrounding the clearing were tall spiky desert bushes and short, thick limbed desert trees with sparse leaves at the end of their branches. At this point in his trip, Ben felt comfortable enough to set out one of his collapsible camping chairs and take a load off of his feet. After about ten minutes of this, Ben took off his hiking boots and gave himself a foot massage, enjoying every moment of it. With a final look and listen to his surroundings, Ben mentally said 'Oh, to hell with it, I deserve this' and pulled out his bong, filled it with water, packed the bowl and began smoking.

Ben couldn't have said how much time passed from that point on, but he had totally burned through one bowl and was about half-way through the second when he noticed the sound of bushes rustling. Inebriated, Ben instantly felt himself go from relaxed to utterly terrified in less than half a second, and hastily set his bong down, spilling most of the water in the process of picking up his rifle. His heart was pounding, and the noise of moving brush got ever closer, until eventually he could make out a crouched, large creature making it's way noisily through.

Finger on the trigger, Ben hesitated, a crucial half-second of dulled reaction time that would have permanent, world-changing consequences. If he had pulled the trigger, then his bullets would have ripped through the concealing underbrush and fatally wounded the creature that even now emerged from hiding, glowing green letters over it's head spelling out it's name.

“Aim hero renegade,” Ben mouthed aloud, not lowering his weapon as the naked man wearing a water jug on a belt approached him, totally relaxed with a blank, but curious expression on it's face. Ben might have been reading into things too much due to the weed, but he could have sworn that the creature seemed a little relieved. Without much ceremony, he walked into Ben's camp, made several man-beast like grunting and ooking noises, and promptly laid down, giving off an entirely human sigh of relief as he did so.

“Can you understand me?” Ben asked, his mind cutting through the obvious questions like 'Where are your clothes' and 'What's your name', favoring a more basic and pressing matter.

The renegade made several grunting noises, indicating quite clearly that he understood he was being spoken to, and that was the extent of his ability. He did not get up, and shut his eyes, breathing softly.

Ben stood for a little while, then, feeling relieved and a little cheated, went back to his chair and sat back down. Without really thinking about it, he grabbed his bong and lit it, the sound of the lighter causing the renegade to lift his head and stare in the direction of the noise. With polite body language, he rose from laying and crouched next to Ben, staring. Feeling uncomfortable, Ben blew out the smoke, prompting several confused ooks.

Laughing to himself, Ben held the bong out, and the renegade immediately took it, examined it, and then tossed his head back and drank the water inside. The reaction was near immediate, a monkey like shriek and spittake as he stood up and stumbled back, keeping a careful grip on the bong and not breaking it in the process. Ben began openly laughing, and the renegade glared at him for half a second, then began laughing himself.

“You've got water in there?” Ben said, pointing to the jug at his belt. The renegade looked at it, then handed it and the bong to Ben, who poured some of the water from the jug into the bong and began explaining how to use it while slowly performing the actions.

Little did he know, embedded above him, a shining dark purple gem glinted in the sunlight, very occasionally moving, watching the scene with curious, infinite eyes.