Wildfire

Chapter 15: Double Trouble

Monday, June 28th

"Hey, I just got informed about the possible suspect of who the culprits may be," Mark spoke too fast and unclear for me to understand.

"Wha— the culprits? You mean they've finally found the paparazzi pyromaniac?"

"No," he flatly said. "One of the rangers told me, to tell you, to watch out for the names Justin and Josh. Apparently, those two are the ones who raided," Mark snorted into a laugh. "what was the name? Muzzle nose?"

When I discovered the ruined campsite and sprinted towards the tower, Mark and I spent the night remembering today's events. He got a call from one of the rangers (Bruno or John) that the campers didn't show up at the gate, and that I was the last person to see them. In an attempt to brush away a possible interrogation section from the Oregon Park's director, Mark settled to relax and talk. On one occasion, I referred to Christoph's nostrils as more spacious than a muzzle. We both laughed for two solid minutes.

"You mean the ones who raided their campsite..."

"Justin and Josh," Mark repeated. "are they on your list somewhere?"

"Hold on!"

I leaned underneath the desk, grabbed a listing of five pages in total, and scanned for any J letter words. There were at least two Joshuas and one Justin. Different dates. Not related at all. Still, I informed Mark about my findings.

"No, those can't be them." He sighed.

"How do they look like?"

"Average. A buzzcut and a flannel sweater? Bruno didn't give out plenty of details about the campers."

"Was that Bruno the guy you were talking to a few weeks back?" In five seconds, the cypresses behind me clapped like a soft spring rain, and a robin sang on the balcony railing. However, the silence broke every sound barrier that surrounded me. "Mark?"

"How did... how did you know?"

"You left your line open the day I received the Polaroid," I said calmly. "I mean, the day we both got that Polaroid."

"Huh, that's weird. Usually, your line shuts down automatically when I talk to another ranger." His words drifted like the warmth of the summer breeze. Mark knew it was unusual for this to happen, but managed through his stammer and remain professional.

"That was only one time. I couldn't hear what Bruno had to say."

"Oh good," Mark said with relief. "At least you're unaware of our complot to secretly kill you."

I rolled my eyes, still grinning. "Hardy har! Hate to break it to you, but you're not getting rid of me that easily, Mark Reyes. Much luck next time."

I felt his smile radiate from across the radio. "Do not forget that I know where you live, Walter. I'll get you next time." Before Mark hung, I heard a faint whisper, clear enough to understand what Mark was saying, that wasn't supposed to happen.

Monday evening, June 28th

The heat from today's winds slowly shifted into a cool mountain breeze. I felt even more refreshed thanks to that river bath, no campers, nor stalkers to deal with now. It was pretty much the everyday evening agenda: fill a couple of crosswords, talk to Mark, eat canned peaches along with the syrup, and watch the sunset from the watchtower balcony.

Lately, I've been allowing my mind to visit my life back in California. Anxious memories of lies and the kind of environment I had surrounded myself with since I was born.