Chapter One
Simon Frost’s small well-worn
civic ascends the one lane unpaved road that leads to the State Park lodge and
trail entrance. The journey that was
once so nerve racking has become second nature to him, and often not as
carefully driven as it should be. His
head bops in rhythm as he raps along to the stereo;
“And this is
like a miracle, to linger past your passing,
a blessing that’s lasting: a horde fast amassing.
Please forgive loved ones who aren’t missing you,
photo albums they’re not reminiscing through.
Remember what the preacher at your funeral said:
it isn’t quite a tragedy, you’re not quite dead...”
With the cabin coming into view Frost stops rapping and
pilots the civic over the gravel parking lot. He comes to a stop in the closest space to the
lodge, the one marked and reserved for the on duty ranger. Frost turns the car
off and feels a sense of relief as he always does that his car did not die on
the way to its destination. He steps out
of the civic and stretches while depositing his thick key ring into his
pocket. Frost then leans down and
reaches into the passenger seat from the open door. He grabs his official Ranger’s hat and places
it on his head. Next he grabs his extra-large
extra black coffee from Jimmy’s Grindhouse and places it on the roof of the civic. Frost shuts the unlocked front door then
opens the back door to retrieve his messenger bag. As he does he catches sight of his reflection
in the window. “I look like I’m in a
fucking costume.” He mumbles, still not
used to the look of the brown ranger’s uniform on him. He slings
the messenger bag over his shoulder and grabs the plastic shopping bag
containing his lunch. With the messenger
bag over his shoulder, his lunch in one hand and the coffee in the other Frost
moves toward the stairs leading up the porch to the Park’s main entrance. The lumber used on the porch and stairs has
sizable gaps between each plank and a sign beside the entrance lets visitors
know to be careful not to drop anything, as it could easily fall through the
cracks.
The old wooden steps creak under his weight as he makes his
way to the front door and realizes the key ring is in his pocket, again. With two fingers Frost awkwardly fishes into
his pocket with the hand holding his lunch bag to retrieve the keys. After fishing vainly for a moment he manages
to get a finger through the key ring. Slowly Frost brings the keys up and
shuffles them with his knuckles to try and take hold of the main entrance key. “I don’t know why we lock it, no one is ever
up here.” He mutters to himself in
frustration.
The key ring slips from his hand and Frost fumbles for
it. As he leans forward the top comes
off his coffee cup and the hot dark liquid splashes into his crotch before
spilling down his thighs. “Fuckin’ swell.” He says, watching the warm liquid’s steam
rising in the early morning air.
Frost throws the empty coffee cup past a trash can and a
sign reminding him this is a bag in-bag out park, then thanking him for his courtesy
in this manner. Even if he loses his
keys Frost knows he can get down on his ass and scoot through the basement
window, but would just rather not do that.
Frost’s knees creak as he slowly squats to see the key ring
hanging in the slot between two pieces of lumber, equally above and through the
gap. With two steady fingers Frost takes
hold of the warm coffee soaked ring and pulls up the keys. He rises awkwardly and then unlocks the main
entrance. The door opens and he steps
inside the Ranger’s Head Quarters moving toward the main desk.
Frost holds the wet keys away from his body with two fingers
as he moves past the giant taxidermy black bear. “Still no picnic basket?” He asks the bear as he does most mornings. “I thought you were smarter than the average
bear.” Once behind the desk Frost drops
off his lunch and messenger bag before heading to the small employee bathroom
at the end of a very narrow hall off the main room. In the hall leading to the bathroom on the left
there is a small staircase that leads up to emergency quarters in case any of
the rangers get stuck here due to weather.
Though in Frost’s case he suspects that it would be less likely due to incremental
weather, and much more likely due to his civics engine being
temperamental.
Frost moves past the doors on his right labeled ‘Bear Emergency’
and then ‘Communications’ room. A whisk
of air from the large floor level vent that leads into the basement causes
Frost to shiver as the coffee soaking his legs draws goose bumps from his skin.
The last door on the right is the bathroom, which reads simply, ‘Employees Only.’ Once inside Frost washes off the keys while
trying to avoid looking at the mirror above the sink. He has still not gotten anywhere near used to
the image of himself in the Ranger’s costume as he thinks of it.
A lifelong city boy Simon Frost has only held this state
park job for three months. While there
were elements from his urban home he missed, like not needing a car, he could
no longer deal with the people. With a
BA in social work Frost had grown tired of watching the droves of depressed
souls that entered the Welfare building every day. The unending stream of shit stories was just
overwhelming, and he knew based on the available data the trend would only continue.
The few people he could genuinely help were but a few droplets of water in a
large bucket that was his workload.
On his off hours he drank with what he called his friends
but now considered enablers as they all shit deservedly on their bosses, and
lamented their comfortable existences. No
one had any real hobbies or interests so they created social drama that Simon
always seemed to be policing and fixing.
While he cared for his girlfriend, the two had been drifting
apart physically and emotionally for years. With each passing day they were
more and more consumed with their jobs, but they had created a no work talk at
home rule. This left little else to do
but go drinking with their mutual acquaintances and watch TV, though they would
always compromise and neither was ever watching what they wanted to. Sexually they had been growing distant long
before Simon’s metabolism slowed to that of an adult and the obscene amount of
bar food and beer began to take up permanent space on his ass and gut. As they began to go out separately Simon had
learned that she had been seeing and having sex with another man, and he
noticed her mood and demeanor improving.
Without ever letting her know he knew Simon said that they should spend
some time apart and offered to move out.
After crashing on a co-worker’s couch for a week he had found, applied
to and been accepted over the phone for his current ranger’s job.
On his way back to the front desk Frost looks down, peeling
his pant legs away from his thighs, and remembers the spilt coffee. Once behind the desk Frost sits down and kicks
off his boots. Next he slides off his pants and leaves them in a soppy pile
beneath the desk, and him in his Batman boxers.
Next he pulls his lunch, a chicken salad out of the plastic grocery bag
and places it in the small fridge behind him, next to the old CB radio and the
window overlooking the park. The view
allows him to see the ranger’s storage shed beside a tall thick oak tree. Past this are three marked paths for
beginners, intermediates and the advanced.
With his lunch away Frost turns
to the main desk and out of habit searches briefly for his coffee, before
remembering why he isn’t wearing any pants.
After cursing his poor short term memory Frost slides his
wheeled high backed office chair to a nearby filing cabinet and pulls out his
coffee maker. He sets the machine on the
desk, fills it with grounds before getting up and returning to the bathroom to
fill the pot with water.
With the whirring and bubbling as the machine brews behind
him, Frost again remembers about his pants, or his lack of pants, which is when
the front door opens and he realizes the day had officially began.
