Wildfire

Chapter 8: First Day

Part 2: Oregon

"In Genesis, it says that it is not good for a man to be alone; but sometimes it is a great relief."

- John Barrymore

Tuesday, June 8th

Instead of the clock alarm blare, I woke up to the heat of sun rays above my eyelids. As I lazily opened my eyes, a gold coating draped the now visible mountains from the windows that surrounded my new bedroom. 

My bedroom, dining room, and living room for three months. A sullen moment of anxiety made everything blurry— which was counterintuitive in comparison to the serene nature that surrounded me. Despite the happy chirps of the Robins, the unknown will always create scary emotions, no matter how well I've memorized the fire forest atlas and the Oregon Forest map, from its' peaks to the river canals.

However, as I heard the creaking of the wood panels, I remembered why I was here. The real reason why I decided to travel hundreds and hundreds of miles away from California and from everybody I knew. Sure, there's a paycheck waiting for me, but the reason goes far beyond.

I had a white cotton shirt with wrinkles that shone with the sun. Beforehand were sent a few wooden crates with my belongings still sealed. My watchtower came already equipped with counters, a small fridge, a desk with racks of books above, another map, binoculars, some fax machine doohickey, and cans of food each with a quality sticker Made in Oregon.

I ruffled my dark hair and started to unload shirts, boxers, books, a cigarette pack, a lighter, a pocketknife, notepads, Sudoku, nano-grams, and pencils. I even packed my Gameboy, which served for a quiet night or two before it died.

My uniform remained perched at the entrance, in front of my bed.

There was a scratchy noise, like nails on wood. I pulled my trousers and followed the noise. Underneath the desk, a dusty radio transmitter with a handheld transceiver attached to the side was making that static sound. It was wired, therefore, I carefully unraveled the cord around the desk and placed the radio on the counter.

I picked the transceiver and pressed the ON button, remembering the codewords from the manual the day before I left. "This is Trask Peak; how may I assist you?" There was a vague sound coming from the other line, some breathing with the sound of the wind.

"Uh, yeah, hi, and with who am I speaking?" The voice was deep and aggravated. It left me speechless as I thought of who dared to ask with such an attitude. It definitely felt out of character in a place like this. "Hello? Are you there?" The voice grew more concerned now.

"My name is Heath Walter." I ignored the lump on my throat and stood tall. This could be my boss speaking from miles away from here.

"Oh, so you're the new one?" His voice was deep and youthful with a bit of a Spanish accent— he couldn't be older than thirty. I pictured the guy with the same physiques as Jeffrey and a bit friendly.

"I guess so." I dismissed.

"Perfect, you're here!" he sounded just as relieved as I was. "So, welcome to your first day on the job! Your summer days will be focused solely on reporting forest fires, scavenge for resources, and collect the supply crates Oregon Parks send for us. Well, the reporting fires thingy, that is really your only task, the rest is just basic, survival stuff." He spoke eloquently without stammering; he knew what he was doing. "I'm sure you have already acquainted yourself with the forest guide, right?"

"Right."

"Great! I'll be in charge of supervising and to monitor your every step, um, Heath was it?" I sat down on my desk as I noticed another watchtower in the distance. It was placed carefully near the summit, supported by thick planks of wood. "OK, those will be the rules, any questions?"