Chapter 4 - Cartographer’s Call Sign
March 26th, 1989 - Tuesday Afternoon
Caroline caught my attention twice during my reunion to the shoreline. My perception sailed on auto pilot while daydreaming filled every idle second with a warm, soothing elixir. Lee became a refreshing thought for the last days of summer. Resuscitating from muddy depths the idea that two halves could make a whole. The sentiment echoing as soft shimmers of reflecting light tickled my eyes from her jewelry newly placed around my neck.
I was approaching roughly an hour of seafaring when a lucky cluster of trees shed the lost status from my arrival. Sev’s dock would soon be upon me, preparing my eager lips to retell every golden detail that illuminated the morning. A collection of renegade wooden planks drifted past me in the water, leading my eyes to notice the slender remains of a boat dock. My thoughts backtracked to recollect the intensity of last night’s storm and its proximity to Sev’s Starling. Shock continued to fall into view as the bar revealed smashed in windows that were lost within a sea of graffiti and dense vegetation. A doorless entry summoned fear deep within myself, fostering singularity in the thought to find Sev.
Pouring through the front threshold provided an intensified version of what had been outside. Flipped over tables, aged trash, and an endless sea of vines littered the floor. A shiny half empty bottle of gin caught my attention towards the end of the bar. Two undusted glasses lay next to the mystery, one containing a full dose of liquid while the other looked empty. I peered around the counter in desperation when I noticed a stack of blank envelopes, pen and paper resting alongside them.
Cruppled fragments littered the floor below the stationary companions. Choosing one piece at random, I untangled the letter and felt sick. I peered upon Carmine’s dear words of urgency, although some sentences had been crossed out with new ones written above them. It was a draft copy of the one that had me fleeing into the Deep Pines last night. A note in my hand writing, our similarity in style no longer feeling as a sign of our potential. An uneasiness that itched between my thoughts signaled my time to leave this delirium.
Turning towards the door, my attention drew to the back wall of the bar where the words ‘Your Her, You’re Her’ had been spray painted on through multiple sessions. A polaroid camera with a single ejected photo posed on the counter next to the wall. I would be sent into a delusion if the half blurred relic depicted a night moth, tying my weekend to this ruin. Panic replaced discomfort as my mind hunted for an answer to all of this.
The necklace. Feverish hands tore the chain clear off of my neck and threw the gift against the ground. Shattering into pieces, defeated fragments of metal disappeared underneath a sea of overgrown ivy. A stack of newspapers piled high next to the counter fell victim to my sudden movements as I lost my balance and spun towards the tower. Searching for a scrap of stability I sat down with my back up against the bar.
Discouraged eyes peered upon the doorway, a thin mist could be seen sneaking in across the floorboards. The pale blanket reached my boots, growing in density around the mound of newspapers. I watched as the lulling moisture climbed the aged publications, consuming the entire stack in a sash of vapor. My hand reached out to grab the top article, unknowingly eager for a distraction. A bold, maroon headline announced ‘Officials Look into the Disappearance of Local Bar Owner’. I tossed the paper aside, gripping the next article on the stack which glared at me with the same words. Damnit all, none of this made sense.
The slight mist accompanying my position on the ground thickened with a newfound desire to become an ocean. I began to hear a soft rustling outside towards the entrance of Sev’s. I turned my body behind the bar, temporarily hiding from any increase in tension plaguing the moment. The gentle clanking of heels landed on the hardwood floor when a familiar voice found flight.
CARMINE: Darling, are you going to wallow or are you going to make me a drink?
Defeat accompanied Carmine’s words, awakening the truth that none of this was real. My understanding of the tolerance I thought I had for the Deep Pines became discarded. Suddenly the highlight of the morning felt drowned in the clarity that surrounded me.
CARMINE: Excuse me but I don’t ever recall asking to wait.
I had to imagine that if I closed my eyes she would dissolve, testing such a theory as my vision went dark.
CARMINE: Poor Atmos, sad and sleepy. What ever am I going to do with you?
The piercing echo of each step grew louder, her proximity closing in on the small space where I hid.
CARMINE: Dearheart, doubting me again?
The term of endearment ripped open the blinds that had kept my eyes shut. I took in her petite figure, towering above me as if caught by a predator. This time she was absent of any black attire. Instead a white linen cardigan clung to a deep red tanktop, overlapping slightly above a thin black leather belt that looped through dark washed jeans. The outfit complete with pitch black, long heeled boots commonly found in her appearance.
ATMOS: Why did you call me Dearheart?
A smirk slithered into existence.
CARMINE: I’m not in the mood to answer questions this afternoon, try again.
Disappointment replaced my expectations, there would be no point in asking her to provide logic or remedy the situation.
ATMOS: I need to leave this place Carmine, please leave me alone right now.
CARMINE: Oh darling you don't mean that. Care to stay for a drink?
Ignoring the request, I hopped over the bar and reached for the very real satchel that held my camera from its neglected perch.
CARMINE: It won't be so easy, getting away from me.
The strike of a match could be heard as the subtle sound of thin paper burning accompanied its introduction.
ATMOS: I’m saying farewell to playing the fool Carmine. Enjoy your smoke.
Gazing back as I exited the doorway, her sharpened eyes tilted as they followed my motions. Carving through my will power, they came inches from convincing me to stay and indulge in myself. I was grateful that I had been able to escape to Caroline without further regret and felt comfort watching the vessel sway back and forth in the soft water.
Intuition should have raised its hand and cried aloud for attention. It would not be long until I would be joined again by my illusion, our handful of dialogue proving to be not enough for her. I tinkered with the conservative knot system caging Caroline to the dock, a byproduct of finally losing her out in the wild. The unwanted seconds allowed for a passenger to approach the canoe, impatient to steer me further into a delusion.
CARMINE: Shall we set sail once again my love?
My lips did not utter a response, maintaining the belief that she should disappear with properly placed effort. I grabbed each oar, scanning the horizon for the course I would soon chart, unable to resist one last peek upon her immortality. The stew of emotions collecting inside of me sung in unison of the attraction I felt towards her. A confusion that held deep roots and echoed that she wasn’t real, but she was mine. I swallowed some of my sanity, searching for a distraction from the thoughts buzzing around my head regarding Sev’s whereabouts. A cluster of moths had gathered around us, traveling early towards pockets of light brought on by the day.
ATMOS: Can't you and your friends pester someone else this afternoon?
CARMINE: You are more alike to them than I am my dear. I would say they are your friends.
ATMOS: And just how do you figure that to be true?
CARMINE: Oh Atmos, come closer. Listen to my words as they drip from my mouth. You are one in the same, a moth to a flame, burning yourself alive by choice.
She elongated her smirk, showing the admiration she had for our parlay. Her body lifted, elegantly in sync with my rowing pattern, advancing towards my position. The distraction further loosened my grip on thoughts of Sev, his memory now trailing far behind my escape.
CARMINE: Stay with me. You’re not drifting off about your dead friend are you?
ATMOS: I didn’t know that he died, I’m having a hard time understanding what was him and what was me.
CARMINE: Why does it matter so?
ATMOS: You. This, I can accept a slight deviation from sanity because of what happened between us. I lost you out there one day and I. I suppose I kept your image alive, even if you maybe weren’t. I can accept that. But Sev too? If our friendship was simply all in my head, I’m beginning to doubt myself. It’s crippling when I start to think about it.
CARMINE: You have an imagination Atmos. All that you are describing sounds like a helpful thing to have. Maybe you’re looking at it with the wrong lens.
ATMOS: What other lens exists Carmine?
CARMINE: Alright. I’ll settle for this moment.
She moved from sitting two feet in front of me to beside me, placing her arms around my upper torso and guiding me so that my head lay on her lap.
CARMINE: Your lens should be soaked in understanding. What if you are finally understanding yourself for the first time. Shouldn’t we celebrate such an occasion?
She snickered, her skirt was soft upon my neck, dulling the knife edge she usually encompassed.
CARMINE: I’ll forgive your ill preparedness to have a refreshment handy on this stag of yours, I would have wanted to toast the moment.
ATMOS: If none of this is real Carmine, why does it feel so comfortable.
CARMINE: Simple Love, it’ll never be as good as the first time. You can't move past such possession.
I looked up at her with the prompt, her eyes lost their piercing shape and relaxed with a deep breath. I watched her stomach slowly expand and contract, only to glance back at her. The misdirection of my eyes derailed the moment into an invitation to what she craved.
CARMINE: If you’d care to watch me undress, I could allow for an audience.
ATMOS: Why can’t we just stay like this, as we are.
CARMINE: No matter the moment, I’m not the lasting type darling.
She began to shift her body, bringing her head down to mine and regaining her aggressive behavior. Her nails broke the skin of my arm as they marked their territory, causing myself to stammer backwards from the action. She stopped in her tracks and sat up, rolling her eyes as her back aligned perfectly straight.
CARMINE: Scared I’ll etch lines on your skin again, always predictable. You know you’re such a fool Atmos. Sev has been dead for far too long for you to spoil this moment.
She began to smile, lowering her body and placing her head on the side of the canoe. Her curved profile lay across the edge of the vessel, staring at me with its perfection.
CARMINE: Love is but a prison Atmos, trapping us both. Will you be able to take care of me, until the very end?
She began to lean back and in an instant fell into the still water hugging the boat. The movement happened slowly, splashing my eyes with distress and relinquishing logic in the actions I would soon perform.
ATMOS: Carmine!
Standing at the edge of the canoe I leapt into the murky depths towards her wake. The sudden shock of a bitter cold accompanied my newly wet state, peering below as my arms thrashed to keep me afloat. Faintly beneath me I could make out a shadowy figure dissolving with depth. The crowded moment held no space for preparation, forcing a quick inhale before diving down to follow her. Stained glass eyes searched underwater for her vitals, catching a diffused blur of blonde hair. I found myself deeper and ill prepared for the descent, catching my limit as my lungs depleted of oxygen. My entire body began to jolt back to the surface as the soft shimmer of gold disappeared out of view.
Sweet fresh air rewards my return above water, savoring a weighty gulp of goodness. I was out of breath but full of embarrassment. I decided to remain in the water for a cluster of minutes, legs paddling while my mind placed blame. I had to come to terms with the glaring notion that Carmine created a shortcut around what I knew to be the right thing to do. Her seduction overthrowing the patriarch of noble decision making within.
I climbed back into the canoe, eager to reach the shoreline. The only beacon of hope in the matter was my camera bag, still dry and ready to provide ambition for the day. Reaching the familiar dock, I wrapped Caroline's ropes around the first post and placed my soggy boots upon land.
I wrapped Caroline’s rope around an algae infested post twice round and disembarked from the haunting journey. As if an impulse awakening from layers of sediment, I suddenly exhausted my memory for the whereabouts of a phone booth on land. The ballooning downpour of emotion regarding Sev acted as a catalyst for a phone call years past due. Deviating slightly from the return home, I traveled down a narrow side street that held the unused antiquity. Approaching the moment, I plucked out a faded scrap of paper nestled deep within a corner of my wallet. The handwritten words, tired from neglect, ignited guilt amongst their existence.
Essie, call for emergency
My last interaction with Essie had been combative. Her friction towards my continual search for the recently lost Carmine left us estranged. If I recall correctly, we never shared a goodbye. Each polite number dialed brought about an anticipation that aligned with the repetitive dial tone.
ESSIE: Hello, this is Essie Starling, who may I ask is calling?
ATMOS: Essie, it's me Atmos. It’s been a few years, how’ve you been?
A bystander close to the receiver made themselves known with confusion wrapped in their tone.
ESSIE: Fine Atmos. If memory serves me, I wrote out the prerequisite to call me, is everything okay?
ATMOS: Right, I’ve been well too, uh as well, so I rang you about Sev…I uh..
ESSIE: Atmos, he has been buried now for two years, please tell me why you have decided to show interest now?
ATMOS: I, I didn’t know he died. I’m sorry Essie, I just found out and thought of you enough to ring.
ESSIE: Christ Atmos, you really need to leave that place, it's toxic. You've lost touch with reality at this point.
ATMOS: I want to move on, I do. It’s just this business with Sev’s death really has me in a knot.
ESSIE: You need to follow in my footsteps. Move on and start a new life for yourself. I was tired of the love triangle we had created with Carmine. Hell, even her sister Evelyn had a crush on you too. Three’s a crowd, but four was enough for me. It should have been enough for you too Atmos. I’m sorry you're just now learning about Sev, I know he wouldn't have wanted that. But Atmos, I don't know who to feel more sorry for. You missed his funeral, take a step back and look at how far you've drifted from when we were younger.
Her strained insight was joined again by a muffled voice in the background.
ESSIE: I really must go Atmos, please promise me you'll take good care of yourself.
ATMOS: I will Essie, I hope you found more out there, past the shoreline.
The click of the connection introduced a flatline noise that did little to provide any reprieve from the impulsive action. It felt like the right time to go home.
I took off my saturated shoes, socks, and shirt at the front door and entered the private quarters of my solitude. Turning on a cluster of lights, I zigzagged my way to the bathroom with the strong urge to melt under a hot shower. Time held no meaning as I dwelled on my drowned Carmine, had a part of me sunk with her?
As if reuniting with my stationary state, thoughts of Sev bloomed into an obsession in my mind. Stamen pierced through my misinterpretation of the Deep Pines boundary, pollinating the need to understand where the impacted area ended. Cameron would have to be in possession of a current map of the city, including the large red circle denoting the place all should avoid. With the decision made, I readied myself for company and headed to his door for relief.
Three attempts of knocking were made with no luck, perhaps NightLight still had him working feverishly towards both ends of the candle. My knowledge of Cameron’s actual position at NightLight stopped at the words confidential. Unable to shake my appetite for the latest map of Forest City, I resorted to plan b. Years ago a neighborly pact had been made, sharing with each other the location of our spare keys. Even if Cameron were to come home right at the moment my fingers were ransacking his belongings, I could simply explain myself and he would understand. His cool demeanor solidified my faith in this assumption.
Underneath the short wooden staircase leading to his backdoor, a small shotglass in the shape of a beaker would contain a bronze key for what came next. Upon retrieving the beacon of hope, I marched to the front and made my way inside. A stale air greeted me, anchoring the theory that he had not yet returned home from his departure Sunday evening.
Looking around I speculated about, trying to determine where Cameron would keep his maps. Every January the city published an updated map of Forest City, a needless release that seemed as a money grab for an area heavily documented. I did not bother keeping up with the act of civil robbery as my knowledge of the landscape surpassed that of the government’s. This questioned belief had me eager to understand exactly where the Deep Pines border had been identified.
I went through an entertainment cabinet in the living room, noticing Cam’s unmentioned pleasure in reading TV Guides. Striking out in the kitchen junk drawers as well, I peered around the friendly walls for any hint on where to search next. Cameron had mentioned on a few occasions his office that lay tucked away towards his bedroom. Although I had not personally been invited to such quarters, the room found designation as the next place to look. Walking up three creaky steps, I glared into the twin glass french doors into his room of mystery. Holding confident that our collected years of friendship afforded me the liberty to snoop, I opened each door to reveal a perfectly average office. This would be a brief search, reducing the time I felt that my act of trespassing was wrong.
A quick scan of each shelf identified one area in particular of value. A row of black bound binders, each with the words 'Cartographer's Logs’ tattooed along the spine caught my attention. Picking up the volume with the current year written next to the heading, I opened to the first page.
Cartographer: Cameron Holt
Codename: Tigerman
Log of the surrounding area of Forest City Shoreline, Volume IX
Uninterested in the subtle secret that I had just consumed, I continued further into the document for an aerial illustration of Forest City. Page seventeen rewarded my burglary with a full sized map, spread across two pages. Easily deciphered was the location of the shoreline, followed by a red dot that had been marked north east of the watery border. A hatched circle could be seen roughly 2 inches in diameter around the dot with the words ‘Impacted Radius’ alongside. Scanning the notes next to the dreary shape, an essential sentence acted as knowledge newly gained.
The measured growth of the impacted circle has been observed as roughly 40 feet, year to date. This is an increase of approximately 7% greater than last year’s growth, signifying that the border has been increasing with time.
Although my best guess of where Sev’s Starling was located on the map appeared to be within the hatched pattern of the Deep Pines, knowing that the boundary had been growing with each passing year cemented the truth that I had been wrong along. My mind wandered in the moment, as a barrage of questions flew through the sky above me. I could not focus on any one in particular, but exited Cameron’s office and closed the door behind me. My footsteps led me back to the front door when unexpectedly the familiar slab opened, revealing an alarmed Cameron.
CAMERON: What the hell are you doing buddy?
I halted my response. Choosing to trust the knowledge that we were good friends, regardless of my decision to break in.
ATMOS: I’ll go grab a bottle of gin from my house and tell you all about it, you in? Trust me, it's about the level of good as why I would trespass.
His eyes held a tired weight, closing briefly with the splash of my words.
CAMERON: Can I at least take a nap first? I truly am exhausted.
I looked down at my wrist watch, the time was 5:00pm.
ATMOS: I’ll go grab the bottle and meet you back here at seven on the dot. Go get your beauty rest, I have a tale to tell.
CAMERON: Two hours sounds heavenly.
I exited his house and prepared the narrative I would soon tell, eager for his insight on the matter. Maybe all of this honesty would shake the truth tree from him as well, him and his Tigerman codename.
With hours to spare I decided to mimic the actions of my well mannered neighbor and laid my head down, instantly drifting off into a slumber.