The Onyx Seed - A Story of Survival by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 2

“In the weather, it’s going to be a bit warmer with highs in the mid-seventies and in the upper sixties in the mountains. Later tonight, an onshore breeze will cool things down just a bit and ocean conditions this weekend should be smooth sailing.”

Friday had been too slow in coming and Marty was looking forward to hiking Iron Mountain. It was a rocky peak that lay east of the city and Marty needed to check the weather before driving to the trailhead. It had been a long week, and he desperately needed to get away from people. He knew that hiking alone in the mountains was a bad idea. But he wanted to be alone and being in the outdoors helped him to retain his sanity. Besides, he didn’t plan on hiking to the summit. It was spring, and the rattlesnakes were just coming of hibernation. So, Marty took the proper precautions, taking a hiking staff and wearing snake proof boots. He sat on his bed, exhausted from a long week at the restaurant. He switched the channel on his T.V. to CNN. It was broadcast as a thirty-minute repeated loop that played, uninterrupted throughout the day. The news stories coming in from around the world were almost predictable. Shootings, global warming, politics, civil uprisings, and natural disasters. It always seemed to be more of the same shit. And right on cue, a report was broadcast about the new avian flu coming out of China. Every fall and spring, reports were released by the CDC. They were simple, bland and seemed to be worded exactly the same every year. Marty didn’t really take the news seriously anymore. He had come to see it as a different form of entertainment. And when he picked up his T.V. remote, he would say to himself, “Well, let’s see how much the world sucks today.” It was eight o’clock at night. Marty and Lucas had ordered out and split a large pizza between the two of them. It had become a weekly ritual that both of them looked forward to. He would never admit it to himself, but Marty needed the company and Lucas had no family. His mother and brother were dead and his father had disappeared years ago. So, Marty took it upon himself to look out for him and Friday night Pizza seemed to be a good way of maintaining their connection.

“So, Marty,” Lucas began. “What have you got going on this weekend?”

Marty spoke between bites of Pizza. “Well, if the weather holds up, I’m going to hike through Iron Mountain,” Marty answered. “How about you?”

Lucas took a sip from his beer.

“I’ve got a paper to write,” he replied. Marty pretended to be interested.

“What are you writing about?”

Lucas took a moment to organize his thoughts. “Well,” he began. “It’s going to be about how the civil war affected civil liberties by looking at the fact that Lincoln suspended something called the writ of habeas corpus.”

Marty was clueless.

“Habeas what?” he asked.

Lucas washed down a mouthful of pizza with another sip of beer.

“It says that you can’t be detained without formal charges or trial.”

Marty looked a bit dumbfounded. “Can they do that now?” he asked. Lucas put some thought into Marty’s question. “Um, I think that depends on the situation,” he replied. “Our rights are a lot more complicated than people think.”

Marty found the conversation somewhat interesting. But mostly, it just gave him a headache. He wasn’t someone who understood complex issues and leaned more toward simplicity. Getting up early the next morning, he filled a large day pack with everything he needed for an overnight in the woods. He had been trained by the Army to use a GPS receiver, but couldn’t afford one, so he often resorted to using a map and compass. Pausing momentarily on his way out the door, he turned to Lucas.

“Hey, Luke!” he said. “See you later!” There was no response. Lucas was buried in books and hard at work on his paper. Unlike other students, Lucas was never one to wait until the last moment to complete his assignments and seemed very aware that as his education progressed, it would become more challenging. He also understood that if he wanted something badly enough, like an education, he could expect to work for it. Marty locked the door behind him and walked down the street. He drove a ten-year-old Chevy. The body was covered with Bondo, but the car’s age and appearance served as an effective disguise for a finely tuned, customized engine and transmission. When Marty got out of the Army, he immediately felt the need for a hobby. He picked up what he felt was a true beater car and turned it into a work of mechanical art. He left the body as was so as not to attract attention to it. But under the hood roared the soul of an enraged tiger.

The engine came to life as he turned the key while putting a slight amount of pressure on the gas pedal. He drove northeast out of the city and made his way to Big Tujunga Canyon Road. Following it west, he pulled into a parking lot just beyond its intersection with Doske Road. He put on his pack, fastened its belt around his waist and walked toward the head of Long Valley trail. Out of the concern for safety, he wrote the date, his name, and address in the registry and started up the trail. He decided not to go as far as Iron Mountain, due to the fact that he was only there for two days. So, his plan was to hike to the top of Condor Peak. But he wasn’t about to push himself. He knew that even a mild injury could be potentially fatal, being alone in the middle of nowhere. So, if he didn’t get to the summit, that would be okay. He would try another time. The trail wove its way uphill with a few downward slopes, crisscrossing through the mountains. It was easy for Marty to lose track of time as he walked through the low-lying brush of the southern California mountains. He preferred to walk the valley trail where it was cool and shaded, as opposed to the open heat of the ridge. He knew it was always easier to warm himself up than to cool himself down. At the trails halfway point, Marty stopped for water. He turned to look back down the valley and was struck by its incredible beauty. He’d hiked the Long Trail before, however, he never seemed to tire of the view. The valley sat low between two mountain ridges that stood like the columns of some ancient Greek temple. They were as old as time itself and a constant reminder of the ongoing march of nature’s power.

Marty spent the night beneath the shadow of the summits’ southern slope. He reached the top of Condor Peak, but the day was growing short, and he needed to make camp while there was still enough light. Finding a small group of boulders, the first thing he did was to inspect the area for rattlesnakes. The southwest was teeming with snakes. At night, they would curl up against the rocks that had been warmed by the heat of the day. After making a close inspection of the ground around the boulders, Marty decided it was the ideal place to camp. The boulders would give him shelter from the wind and reflect heat back from the warmth of a small fire. As darkness overtook the valley, Marty watched as Los Angeles slowly lit up in the distance. With a small fire crackling near his feet, he sat mesmerized by the glow of the city. He wondered how such a violent place that, for many, was an inescapable hell, could be named city of angels. If he didn’t have to worry about money, he would simply drive out of the city and never look back, and where he’d go would also be of little concern. Marty spent the night in a makeshift tent using an insulated rain poncho he’d saved from the Army. Before turning in for the night, he stoked the fire to ward off predators. The California mountains were also known for its scattered population of mountain lions. Marty had a strong feeling that he was being watched, but knew that the fire would keep any curious eyes from becoming too curious. His suspicions were confirmed as he rose the next morning to discover a pile of scat about fifty feet from his camp. By its appearance, he knew it was from a carnivore. Something had marked this area as its territory, and it was enough to prompt Marty’s hasty departure.

Marty took his time hiking back down the trail. He was certainly in no hurry to return to L.A., but within only two hours, saw the parking lot coming into view. He signed out on the registry and loaded his gear into the back seat of his car. The drive back was far too short and within the space of forty-five minutes, found himself parked in front of his apartment. It was the second floor of a run-down, red, brick building that looked as if it had been built around the turn of the century. Marty’s room was in the back, just off the kitchen. He was very comfortable being away from the street and felt that the less he was noticed, the better. He walked in to find Lucas still hard at work on his paper. In spite of the fact that he had no family, he seemed almost obsessed with succeeding in his college career. On a deeper level, it was the tragedy of his past that drove him to make a better life for himself.

“Hey, Luke,” Marty said. “How’s the paper going?” He stopped in front of Lucas room to let him know he’d returned, but mostly, he was checking to see how Lucas was doing. Marty felt that as long as he was around, Lucas would never have to be alone. He unlocked the door to his room, walked in and dropped his pack in the corner. Stepping back into the kitchen, Marty opened the refrigerator and took out a cold beer. Back in his room, he sat up on his bed and turned on the T.V. He switched back and forth between news channels until stopping at CNN. Among other things, there was a report of this seasons flu and that people in some large cities were being advised to wear masks. The usual warnings were announced that the flu was potentially deadly to the very young, the elderly and those with weakened immune systems. Every spring and fall it was the same thing. Wash your hands, get the flu shot, cover your mouth. Not interested, he said to himself. He was more interested in what was going on in the middle-east and switched to the BBC. The next day, Marty got up at five in the morning and got ready for work. Monday had arrived far too soon. It wasn’t his turn to open, so he had a little more time. Upon arrival, he noticed that the restaurant was still dark, and the waitresses had gathered at the front door.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Tiffany, a nineteen-year-old girl, straight out of high school was the first to complain.

“Thank fucking God!” she said.

Tiffany had a child at a very early age, even by L.A. standards. In high school, she developed a reputation for being a girl who had a problem keeping her legs closed.

“Can you get the door open? It’s fucking creepy out here.”

Life as a teenage mother in Los Angeles had already begun to leave its mark on her, and she expressed them through an angry, demanding personality. “I don’t have the keys,” Marty answered. Who’s supposed to open this morning? Tiffany folded her arms tightly against her body in an expression of frustration.

“Maria,” she said. “Who do you think?” Maria didn’t seem like the kind of person who would dodge her responsibilities, in spite of her attitude. She knew how important it was to be on time when it was her turn to open. Their attention was drawn to the street by the sound of an approaching car. “Fuck!” Tiffany whispered. “It’s Vinnie. We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

Vinnie got out of his car and approached them with a noticeable degree of agitation.

“What’s everyone doing out here?” he asked. “Whose turn is it to open?”

Tiffany spoke up immediately with an obvious tone of satisfaction.

“Maria!” she said, with a slightly childish demeanor. Everyone thought of Tiffany as something of a brat and wondered how she managed to interact with the public as a waitress. That is everyone, but Vinnie. He hired her knowing she had a child, with the idea that there may be an opportunity for a relationship. Purely physical, of course.

“Shit!” he replied.

Vinnie, naturally, had his own set of keys to the restaurant, but he often forgot to bring them. To everyone’s relief, he remembered to bring them and after unlocking the door; it seemed to be business as usual. But Vinnie wanted to know what had happened to Maria. He knew how responsible she was and asked Marty if he had noticed anything different about her.

“You mean if she’s been sick or something?” Marty asked. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Alright,” Vinnie responded. “We need an extra pair of hands. Marty, see if you can get Lucas down here.” Marty gave his request a few moments of thought. “Um, Lucas has classes today,” he said. Vinnie was frustrated beyond words. “Son of a bitch!” he said. “Fine, I’ll give Maria a call and see what’s going on.”

He walked away toward his office, thinking out loud to himself.

“She better have a damn good reason for this!” The day went by at a painfully slow pace. Without Maria, everyone was forced to work that much harder. And Mondays were difficult enough when everyone was there. Vinnie had tried Maria’s phone number several times. But by day’s end, Maria had still not shown up for work. Right before closing, Vinnie quietly approached Marty, giving a piece of notepaper with Maria’s address on it. “Marty,” he said. “I got a not so good feeling about Maria. It’s not like her to skip out and no one’s answering the phone. If you get some time today, would you stop over at her place and check on her for me?”

Marty took the piece of paper and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

“Yeah, sure Vinnie,” he answered.

Now, Marty was concerned. It wasn’t like Maria to just disappear, and if Vinnie was unable to reach her, there was definitely something wrong. The only thing Marty could think of was that Maria and her parents might be the victims of gang violence. Maybe her father missed a payment. L.A. was one of those places where bad things often happen to good people.