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“I wonder if we should take it to
the station and give it to lost and found?” said Joe.
“But, Joe,” said Maurice, “you know very well that no living soul walked here in all the time we have been walking back and forth.
“Something very strange is happening. I feel it! I think the book was given to us.”
“That’s pretty strange, Dogboy, even from you,” said Joe.
I was the only one of us who had touched the red book. I must admit that I was a little drawn to it. But it felt OK. I didn’t sense evil on it. Cat’s can pick that up you know? It’s a thing!
“I say we take it with us,” I said. “I believe it was meant for us.”
“Your instincts are usually right,” agreed Joe. But he didn’t look very happy. Not upset or anything.
“Maurice, I believe that you should carry the book!” I said. “That seems right and proper to me. Maybe you should be our recording angel. Maybe you could write it all down! You know how to write!”
Maurice sat down on the bench. He looked far into the distance, not speaking. At last he picked up the red leather bound book. He held it in both hands and looked at it carefully, flipping through the pages.
“Alright, Sneaky Snue, you’re the boss, and you never told us wrong. I’ll need a pen,” said Maurice.
The pocket in his jacket was just the right size to hold the book. That’s where he put it too.
It was time to get back on the train by the time we figured that all out.
It was warm and sleepy in our compartment. After dinner we dozed off. While we slept the train covered miles and miles. Flat land, prairie land, pastures and fields.
Before it got completely dark I woke in time to see rolling hills, populated with scatterings of short fat trees. It looked for all the world like an illustration in a child’s book, almost humorous.
Joe sat up and picked up his guitar. He played some tunes I didn’t know, quietly. Finally Maurice woke.
“Here, Dogboy, I have more pens. Use this one,” said Joe, tossing one of those roller ball things to Maurice.
“Thanks, Joe. I’ll make a couple of notes about finding the book,” said Maurice.
It was too bad, but the train went through Glacier Park in the dark, so we didn’t see any of that powerful scenery. Near morning there was a layover east of Spokane. Amtrak trains must wait for freight trains to pass sometimes. So we waited there for a good half hour.
We drifted off to sleep again, while lights outside the windows shone bleakly. The train started moving again while we slept.
In the morning we traveled through eastern Washington.
There is always a sense of immanence at the end of a journey, and we felt that. We watched the Cascade Range loom, then we were deep into the mountains. We went through the old railroad siding town of Skykomish.
“This is where we met, Sue,” said Maurice. “Remember trying to break into that box of cookies, and I had to help you? Gosh, we were hungry that night!”
“I sure do remember,” I said. A lot had happened since then.
Maurice wrote in his red book. Joe played his guitar. I watched.
We came down out of the mountains into green and damp western Washington. In what seemed like a few moments our train pulled into a small city and its modern train station.
“Here we go,” said Joe. “Grab your stuff guys, this is Everett!”
I climbed back into the silly pet bag. Maurice put it on, then his backpack. Joe donned his pack and shades and held his guitar case on his knees.
The train stopped and we disembarked into a cool grey day. There was a lot of mist in the air. A good day for walking.
We followed the other passengers through the station building out onto the city streets.
A guy in a black wool beanie with a big full beard said, “Folkie Joe,” when he saw Joe. Joe laughed and high fived him.
“Say, where can we find a grocery store around here, man,” said Joe.
The guy pointed west, and said,” go a few blocks up that way, to Broadway, then head north. There is one a few block that way”
We did need some stuff for the long hike, he seemed to be thinking. I wasn’t so sure.
“Hey, Joe,” I started. “We could get a ride part of the way. Just to get out of town, then do the walk out to Ralph’s place.
“Yeah, good idea,” said Joe.
Maurice agreed. “Let’s get up in the woods as fast as we can!”
We did walk to the big QFC store and pick up a load of easy edibles and water bottles.
Joe pulled out his Samsung and hired a cab to drive up to Arlington and part of the way up 530.
We hung around in front of the store waiting for the cab. Turned out the driver was an old lady. Margaret said “hi, kids,” in a husky voice and wanted to know where we wanted to go.
Joe told her we wanted to go a few miles up 530 and get dropped off. We were hiking in to see a friend. That we had been on the train for days and wanted a walk.
“Jump in, kids,” said Margaret, turning around to drive. So we did. Joe sat in front and Maurice, with me in the darn carrier took the back seat. Joe’s guitar case sat beside us on the floor.
I was back in the wet side of Washington. I thought of my lady, and losing her, and starting this whole journey. I still missed her and her funny ways.
Margaret drove up I-5 all the way to the little town of Arlington, then headed east up into the foothills of the Cascades. We mostly just sat there and looked at the scenery. Joe engaged her in a bit of chat.
Maybe an hour later, Joe said, “this will do, thank you.”
Margaret pulled over and stopped. Joe paid her in cash. He always carried a few hundred in twenties. My, how things had changed!
We got out, Margaret turned around right in the middle of 530 and drove off back to town.
We had started this whole thing because I was worried about Maurice. He sure looked fine now, what I could see of him from inside the bag.
“Maurice!” I said, “you can let me out of the thing now! I’ll walk the rest of the way!”
“Oh, sorry, Sneaky! I was just so blown away being here. I forgot you were in there,” said Maurice. He had to remove his pack, then my bag, which he set on the ground. He released me and I took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Maurice. Thank you for the ride around and thank you for letting me out of that thing. Too bad we can’t leave it here!” I told him.
“But, Joe,” said Maurice, “you know very well that no living soul walked here in all the time we have been walking back and forth.
“Something very strange is happening. I feel it! I think the book was given to us.”
“That’s pretty strange, Dogboy, even from you,” said Joe.
I was the only one of us who had touched the red book. I must admit that I was a little drawn to it. But it felt OK. I didn’t sense evil on it. Cat’s can pick that up you know? It’s a thing!
“I say we take it with us,” I said. “I believe it was meant for us.”
“Your instincts are usually right,” agreed Joe. But he didn’t look very happy. Not upset or anything.
“Maurice, I believe that you should carry the book!” I said. “That seems right and proper to me. Maybe you should be our recording angel. Maybe you could write it all down! You know how to write!”
Maurice sat down on the bench. He looked far into the distance, not speaking. At last he picked up the red leather bound book. He held it in both hands and looked at it carefully, flipping through the pages.
“Alright, Sneaky Snue, you’re the boss, and you never told us wrong. I’ll need a pen,” said Maurice.
The pocket in his jacket was just the right size to hold the book. That’s where he put it too.
It was time to get back on the train by the time we figured that all out.
It was warm and sleepy in our compartment. After dinner we dozed off. While we slept the train covered miles and miles. Flat land, prairie land, pastures and fields.
Before it got completely dark I woke in time to see rolling hills, populated with scatterings of short fat trees. It looked for all the world like an illustration in a child’s book, almost humorous.
Joe sat up and picked up his guitar. He played some tunes I didn’t know, quietly. Finally Maurice woke.
“Here, Dogboy, I have more pens. Use this one,” said Joe, tossing one of those roller ball things to Maurice.
“Thanks, Joe. I’ll make a couple of notes about finding the book,” said Maurice.
It was too bad, but the train went through Glacier Park in the dark, so we didn’t see any of that powerful scenery. Near morning there was a layover east of Spokane. Amtrak trains must wait for freight trains to pass sometimes. So we waited there for a good half hour.
We drifted off to sleep again, while lights outside the windows shone bleakly. The train started moving again while we slept.
In the morning we traveled through eastern Washington.
There is always a sense of immanence at the end of a journey, and we felt that. We watched the Cascade Range loom, then we were deep into the mountains. We went through the old railroad siding town of Skykomish.
“This is where we met, Sue,” said Maurice. “Remember trying to break into that box of cookies, and I had to help you? Gosh, we were hungry that night!”
“I sure do remember,” I said. A lot had happened since then.
Maurice wrote in his red book. Joe played his guitar. I watched.
We came down out of the mountains into green and damp western Washington. In what seemed like a few moments our train pulled into a small city and its modern train station.
“Here we go,” said Joe. “Grab your stuff guys, this is Everett!”
I climbed back into the silly pet bag. Maurice put it on, then his backpack. Joe donned his pack and shades and held his guitar case on his knees.
The train stopped and we disembarked into a cool grey day. There was a lot of mist in the air. A good day for walking.
We followed the other passengers through the station building out onto the city streets.
A guy in a black wool beanie with a big full beard said, “Folkie Joe,” when he saw Joe. Joe laughed and high fived him.
“Say, where can we find a grocery store around here, man,” said Joe.
The guy pointed west, and said,” go a few blocks up that way, to Broadway, then head north. There is one a few block that way”
We did need some stuff for the long hike, he seemed to be thinking. I wasn’t so sure.
“Hey, Joe,” I started. “We could get a ride part of the way. Just to get out of town, then do the walk out to Ralph’s place.
“Yeah, good idea,” said Joe.
Maurice agreed. “Let’s get up in the woods as fast as we can!”
We did walk to the big QFC store and pick up a load of easy edibles and water bottles.
Joe pulled out his Samsung and hired a cab to drive up to Arlington and part of the way up 530.
We hung around in front of the store waiting for the cab. Turned out the driver was an old lady. Margaret said “hi, kids,” in a husky voice and wanted to know where we wanted to go.
Joe told her we wanted to go a few miles up 530 and get dropped off. We were hiking in to see a friend. That we had been on the train for days and wanted a walk.
“Jump in, kids,” said Margaret, turning around to drive. So we did. Joe sat in front and Maurice, with me in the darn carrier took the back seat. Joe’s guitar case sat beside us on the floor.
I was back in the wet side of Washington. I thought of my lady, and losing her, and starting this whole journey. I still missed her and her funny ways.
Margaret drove up I-5 all the way to the little town of Arlington, then headed east up into the foothills of the Cascades. We mostly just sat there and looked at the scenery. Joe engaged her in a bit of chat.
Maybe an hour later, Joe said, “this will do, thank you.”
Margaret pulled over and stopped. Joe paid her in cash. He always carried a few hundred in twenties. My, how things had changed!
We got out, Margaret turned around right in the middle of 530 and drove off back to town.
We had started this whole thing because I was worried about Maurice. He sure looked fine now, what I could see of him from inside the bag.
“Maurice!” I said, “you can let me out of the thing now! I’ll walk the rest of the way!”
“Oh, sorry, Sneaky! I was just so blown away being here. I forgot you were in there,” said Maurice. He had to remove his pack, then my bag, which he set on the ground. He released me and I took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Maurice. Thank you for the ride around and thank you for letting me out of that thing. Too bad we can’t leave it here!” I told him.
Joe, carrying his guitar, set off at a good clip. Maurice followed with me walking beside him. I didn’t know how far uphill we had to go, but I was pretty sure Maurice did.
“Hey, you two, I know this place! We’re not very far away!” he chortled.
I smiled to myself.
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