Ep 1.5 - Vantage Points (Closed)

[Deleted]

Max's gaze lingered over the courier's entry. Even she had made a log entry in the worn book. A simple message, nothing but earnest admiration for the scenery and the horses.

She had picked up trash, for Primus' sake. A Decepticon.

Still sitting hunched, Max ran his thumb over her silvery handwriting. Then he reached into the bucket and picked out the Columbia River pen. He did his best to ignore the little fish that floated up to the top of it as he folded the journal open to the first empty page and laid it against his knee. After a pause to gather his thoughts he began to write.

The pen scratched over the paper.

Nice view. Recommended to me.

Gruff and awkward. Max lifted the pen and read the words with a sense of regret. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. The bird sprang into flight, making a leaf in the brush flash as it caught the sunlight, and the spell was broken as he glanced at it. Max exhaled and wearily ran his hand over the top of his head. Oh well.

He dated the entry and signed it: Fort. He slid the journal back into its plastic bag and buried the bucket back into the dirt and rock. Only then did Max turned and began the hike back up the wash. The river stone lay heavy in his hand, smooth and warm from the sun. It's weight was oddly comfortable.

The horses were waiting for him when he reached the top. His avatar gave them one last looked over its shoulder as he turned onto the trail that led back to the place where his tank form lay quietly under cover. They were stark against the sky, their manes and tails tossing as they raced across the hilltop. This had been no trick. No ambush. Just one traveller leading another to something she had discovered. A desire to show, to share.

His gaze hardened. But it could have been. It was inexcusable to let his defences slip, to follow the trail of a Con for anything other than its capture or destruction.

"But what the hell," his avatar muttered as it opened the hatch and descended into the hull of the tank. "I'm not on duty now, am I."

The rock was placed carefully on the driver's seat as Maximus hailed the ground bridge and let the next set of coordinates whisk him away to god knew where.

[Feldspar]

The familiar green swirl of the bridge opened up into...

A deep, deep section of the woods tucked within the Columbia River Gorge.

Towering trees rose into the sky; deep ruddy trunks covered with moss and shaggy bark. The second set of coordinates she'd given him were within a clearing that was enough to easily conceal his frame.

Unlike the arid dry country he'd just departed, this was wet and misty. Grey fog drifted, curling along the massive trunks. It shifted softly with the air currents.

Overhead, the sky was hidden, diffused among the canopy of interlocking branches. The light was soft and green.

It appeared to have just rained recently, perhaps within the last hour or so. Any of the ferns and young cedars that Max brushed against scattered faint gleaming drops. Water rivuleted down the center of the tall sword ferns; it soaked into their bases. Nature had designed perfect culverts to catch all the moisture from the air and deliver it straight where it was needed most.

Several of the ferns were growing at awkward angles along a huge upended root base of a fallen pine. It must have come down last winter; it had smashed several of the smaller trees and the long trunk had wedged about ten feet off the ground, caught between two cedars.

The deep hole it had left in the dirt was still bare within of plantlife, but worn by weather around the edges. It was fairly deep, and honestly, if you were to walk on casually by and not wander up to the edge, you'd probably not see anything concealed within it.

Beneath Max, the damp ground was cushioned by a thick carpet of shed pine needles. The duff muffled his tread the moment he was free of the bridge. A few protruding boulders were scattered here and there among the forest; the half-buried stones that were as tall as his avatar were wet and slick with moss. There was no sound of traffic or cars, but there was the sharp, shrill squawk of a pair of Grey Jays as he emerged. Apparently the birds had never seen a portal before; they fluttered from branch to branch and then came to sit on a nearby broken stump.

One stared at the other, before they began raucously gossping about the random appearance of tank. They sounded like a a couple of old men derisively hooting from a stage balcony.

Other than the birds though, nothing moved. Nothing metallic or electronic came up on a scanner sweep-- wait, no, there was a small something about an eighth of a mile away from his location that pinged back as metal. Several small somethings, at intervals, spaced neatly among the trees on short wooden poles.

They appeared to be trail markers, and headed to the north. The mech would have to pick his way through the woods to get to it though. Max's broad shoulders likely wouldn't get through this part of the forest without causing damage to the trees if he attempted to walk through in mech mode; the gaps between them were about half his width and slim...

[Deleted]

The usual disorientation of travelling through a ground bridge gave way to the sensation of loam beneath his treads.

After the dry rock bed of the desert it caught Maximus off guard. He instinctively responded with a shot of power that sent his heavy tank mode lurching forward, clots of soil thrown up behind it. Fallen branches snapped and crackled as they were chewed into mulch by his treads. It took him a moment before he realised where he was.

Trees. He was in a forest.

A thick one too, judging by the green and dappled way the light fell though the foliage. His engine whined down as he sat tensely within the dense brush, idling. Raindrops gleamed on the dark green needles and leaves, and on the beds of ferns that blanketed the forest floor. A layer of thin fog clung to the ground. He sensors could all but taste the moisture in the air.

The tank exhaled, blowing out exhaust.

It was quiet here, at least. No humans in detectable range, only birds and lush plant life. Buzzing insects. A fallen pine tree provided a pit of dark, raw earth that seemed to be large enough to conceal him as a tank. It only took one look around himself for Maximus to acknowledge that his robot mode would be all but useless in a forest like this. Not if he wanted to move quickly, and remain undetected.

He eased behind the fallen tree, trusting its earthy roots and the scattered boulders to hide him from sight. Thus secured, he popped his top hatch. His avatar climbed out and dropped to the ground. It stamped its boots experimentally into the soil. Soft and damp, littered in bits of leafy debris. Good for walking.

There seemed to be a trail nearby, heading north. Max allowed his sensors to orient him as he hiked towards it. Maybe it would lead towards wherever it was he needed to go next.

[Feldspar]

The damp ferns brushed against Max's avatar as he walked through the forest towards the trail. They flicked shimmering drops upwards, catching what little there was of the light before the soft ground absorbed it.

Around him, the Douglas Firs were immense. These were old growth trees, the sort that had weathered drought and lightning-struck fires. The avatar he sported could probably lie down by the base of one and not be long enough to stretch from side to side. If he looked straight up, he'd have to tip his neck back to see the tops, and even then... well, some of them you couldn't tell where one huge tree ended and another began among the canopy. Long trails of moss arched down from the lower branches, creating loops and twists of dark green.

The path he followed through them soon led him out onto a landscaped trail. It was narrow, and it wound among the trees. The metal bits he'd detected earlier turned out to be trail markers, little metal caps on the top of wood poles. The thick forest duff had been tamped down to bare dirt here- and the longer he walked on it, the more he would realize that it was a gradual slope that was heading upwards.

Overhead, broad leaf maples were interspersed with the pines now. There were tiny wildflowers right off the trail, most of them delicate and lacy, their low-growing leaves ruffled and pale green. There were still boulders along the sides as well, big chunks that were taller than his avatar, covered with moss and wet trails where eons of water had worn away grooves in the stone. It was a good guess they'd crashed down off the slopes long ago and come to rest down in the lower valley.

A mile or two later of walking and the trail had become steeper. There was even a sharp switchback cut into the hill that carried him up an embankment. Wooden handrails were on the sides, like split-rail fencing, smoothed by thousands of human hands.

Once he'd passed that point, the soft sound in the woods became more audible. At first it had been so quiet as to be barely recognizable, no more than every other natural sound around him. Now it was a low, constant, gurgling rumble, and the more the path climbed upwards...

Water? A lot of water, falling from a height?

The trail smoothed out again, and... now came the sound of voices. Humans, talking. They were around the bend. A man and a woman.

"I wish the bridge was open... "

"When are they going to fix it, do you know...?"

[Deleted]

Distracted by the murmur of running water, Max nearly missed the voices. He froze, alert and tense.

They sounded near, just a little up the trail. A man and a woman were speaking together, their voices drifting back through the trees. Another pair of hikers perhaps, following the same markers he was.

Max muttered a quiet oath. He should have known. It was plain to see that the scenic trail had been worn down by countless feet. The day was warm and sunny. Humans were bound to be out walking, just as he was. But his mind had been lulled by the solitude of the forest; it had simply not occurred to him that he was anything but alone.

Humans. His contact with them had been minimal so far. His tank mode kept him away from their settlements, and Agent Fowler rarely need to speak with him directly. He studiously avoided the children that had taken up residence in the base. Even in the Grand Canyon his injuries had allowed him to remain silent and aloof, leaving the courier to interact with the humans aboard the raft. As a species they were all alien to him.

Uneasily, Max looked back down the trail. He could always turn back.

But that was absurd. They were only hikers. And turning back meant admitting that he could go no further.

Max set his jaw. Without further hesitation he walked around the bend in the path, wary.

[Feldspar]

"I don't know, they didn't have a date on the repairs."

The couple soon rounded the corner. They were older - well, as far as humans went they appeared older than his own avatar by far. A slim man with shaggy grey hair. He was accompanied by a short little woman, equally rugged and tan, her white hair wisping out from under a straw hat set floppily on her head and tied with a faded blue ribbon. She wore a pair of gold rimmed round spectacles on her nose.

Both of them were dressed in Northwestern day-hiking clothes, small packs over their shoulders, tan cargo shorts, and matching blue windbreakers. The woman had a small pocket camera looped casually around her wrist. The man had a pair of binoculars looped around his neck, nothing huge or unwieldly. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick and using it to steady his strides. There was a little journal poking out of the side pocket of his cargos as well; a pencil stub was tied on a string and swinging with each stride.

On seeing Max, they simply stopped in mid-conversation and smiled at him.

"Morning!" the man said, lifting his free hand to wave at him. They stopped in the middle of the trail. The woman pushed up her glasses with a finger, resting them back up on her nose. She barely came up to the man's shoulder.

"Good day for a hike up to the falls, eh?" she offered. "Fog's burned off up there."

"Birds everywhere!" the man agreed, and tapped his binoculars. "Hey, if you have any interest in birds at all? If so, there's the biggest Pilated Woodpecker I've ever seen earlier today, might still be up there if you keep an eye out, he's been popping around up there the whole time we were on the observation trail. Lovely morning! You headed up to the falls or the lodge?"

[Deleted]

Max stared at them blankly and wondered if he was having a translation issue.

His gaze slipped down to the binoculars. A light dawned. Oh. They were searching for something. Local wildlife, perhaps. They seemed friendly and harmless, at least. An older couple, dressed for a day on the trail. They smiled at him as if he were one of their own.

“Birds?” he said. “Piliated? I – no.”

Bemused, Max shook his head. “Sorry, you caught me by surprise. Just out for a walk, yeah. Heard the falls in the distance and thought I’d take a look. Never actually seen a waterfall before.”

He frowned. “There’s a lodge?”

[Feldspar]

It was the woman who answered him with an friendly smile. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes crinkled and enhanced her expression - open and pleasant. "Yes. The lodge. You continue on up this a mile or so and you'll run into it and the parking lot up there. It's sort of well -it's got an old feel to it... and that's saying something for me, when was it built, Honey?"

"Ninteen twenty five?" he mused. "Lodge is on the Historic Register. Got the information center up there, and a good hot dog stand -well, if you like hot dogs, they're pretty good. There's the trails up to - eh, half a dozen hikes? One to the top of the falls, but that's a pretty good climb. Couple of miles up, and then you have to oh, walk back, haha!"

"Quiet up there this morning though," he said. "Pretty nice, this early in the morning."

Then he sighed dramatically. "No one likes my birds." There was an underlying twitch of his mouth that betrayed the fact he was poking fun at himself.

"Honey, it's not that no one likes birds, it's that well, okay, not many normal type people think that the Holy Grail is a pigeon."

"A pigeon?" he echoed and then rubbed his chin. "Well, maybe a White-Crowned Pigeon..."

The woman laughed, rolled her eyes, fondly thumped the man's shoulder with one solid little fist before she shook her head. Then she looked over at Max with a bit of confusion as something registered.

"Wait, you've never seen a waterfall before? Where are you from? Arizona?"

[Deleted]

”Yes,” said Max, without thinking. It was close to the truth. He wasn’t about to say Nevada, not when you never knew who might be listening in.

Not that he suspected these two of being at all related to MECH or the Decepticons. Realising that he sounded gruff, Max forced himself to relax. He touched the pockets of his jeans, then slid his hands into them. “Flagstaff, Arizona. Just south of the Canyon. This is my first time in...”

In... damn.

“... In Oregon,” he said lamely. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s a lot different from where I come from.”

Max looked around himself. Sunlight shone down through the towering trees and their thick needles, making their edges glow. Branches swayed in the light breeze, rustling and verdantly alive.

“I’m on leave,” he said. “A fe– a girl I know wrote and said I should make a trip here, so I did. Maybe I’m supposed to go to this lodge. I just follow this trail upwards and I’ll find it, you said?”

[Feldspar]

"Oh! Flagstaff! We have a grandson in Tempe. It's hot. Went down there once to visit, and ah, Oregon's totally different from Arizona," the woman agreed. She didn't even seem to notice his gruffness; or if she did, it didn't bother her one bit. Hiking brought all sorts out on the trail, and a lot of them were just into the quiet of nature and not incredibly social sorts, which was fine.

Or in her husband's case, birds. All the birds. She had to listen to his stories about birds all the time. Birds this, birds that, did you see that bird?

Yes, I saw that bird. Same bird who was here yesterday, same bird that will be here tomorrow.

Now chipmunks? Those were wonderful.

"Yep, the brownies are way different," her husband chortled with a wink. "Oregon's got the best handle on that, for sure. On leave, eh? Well, thanks for serving, sir."

Respect in his voice at those words.

"But yes sir," he offered. "You just follow the trail upward, it ends up at the parking vista up there and the lodge. You'll find it no problem. All the trails branch up to the falls, there's several maps you can pick up at the lodge if you need them. Benson Bridge is closed though... hit by a big boulder that got loose off the falls."

"Got to say," he continued with a smile. "When a girl writes you and tells you you should take a trip to somewhere well, you probably should. Can lead to the best things."

"I wrote you a lot," his wife admitted.

A fond look. "I know," he replied.

"But we better not keep you chattering," the man laughed and shifted his binoculars again. "Take up valuable walking time with talking. Girls are far more important, yes sir. Well, mostly. If an Ivorybill comes swooping, then sorry dear, you're to the curb."

"I accept that," the woman said, and rolled her eyes. She flashed a smile to Max though. "Take care! Have a good hike today! Nice saying hello."

[Deleted]

Benson Bridge was out. Further up the trail was a parking vista and a lodge. There were maps at the lodge. Max took note of it all gravely. A map might be useful, especially if there were branching trails to navigate. On his way to where, he still didn’t know.

But he was already here. It couldn't hurt to take a look around, at least.

“Yeah, nice meeting you too,” said Max. Something about the woman’s warm smile made a friendly answer little more natural. He nodded to them both. “Thanks for the directions. Enjoy the rest of your walk.”

That hadn’t been too hard, he thought with some relief when he finally turned and resumed climbing the trail, his boots crunching through the needles on the path. They had been nice. Approachable. A little quirky maybe, but good. Humans probably weren’t all that different from they were when you got right down to it. Gruff ones and friendly ones.

[Feldspar]

Max met no one else on the trail on the way up. It had a few switchbacks, but nothing seriously taxing, just a solid, steady climb. The sound of the falls grew steadily louder; the whisper of water became a constant background noise. It rumbled in the air; and the breeze that moved around felt damp. Little beads of moisture dripped off the split rail fencing and the low pine branches over the trail scattered it as he brushed past them.

When he glanced back down, the low valley spread out below. All he could see was treetop and green, laced so tight that his alt mode really had no chance of being spotted from the air, as tucked away as it was.

In front of him though, the trail opened up into a paved parking lot. It was curved, the sides lined with short walls built from tumbled stone. An elegant black iron rail graced the top and the sides all the way around. It opened up into a parking area and right in front of him was the lodge the couple had spoken of. It was obviously old, and built from the same stones as the ones lining the walls of the parking lot. Two chimneys curled lazy wisps of smoke up into the morning. A bright red sign on the front was lit up softly as well, and gleamed an open welcome. There was a hand-painted sandwich board that had multiple arrows on it; they pointed to the gift shop, restaurant, and the visitors center.

Curving windows around the base threw warm yellow light out from the shadows of the overhangs. There were solid thick doors, painted white and crisp against the grey. this was not the same architecture of Jasper by any means. No row house, slapped together in a subdivision. This was a building built by hand, one of a kind, meant to withstand the weather of the area it had been set into. The roof was constructed with sharp, sloping peaks to help slide off the winter snow. Garden beds were filled with plants and winding roses.

It framed the waterfall right behind it. White water, pouring down in a sheer vertical drop, tumbling and frothing among the verdant green ferns and plants.

There were not many cars up here in the lot though. It seemed very quiet.

There was an old Toyota Tercel, the back panel covered in bumper stickers like "Visualize Whirled Peas" and "My Other Car is a Bike." A white Mazda truck. A silver Prius, practically shining new. Sort of an eclectic car combination. A few others. A couple of guys were pulling their bikes off of a bike rack, helmeted up and ready to ride on.

A sign in front of him on the edge of the garden bed- it appeared to be an informational one.

[Deleted]

At the edge of the parking lot Max stopped.

It hadn't been a difficult hike, and his avatar did not tire. It was the breadth of the scenery that brought him to a halt. He stood and stared up at the lodge, at the backdrop of sheer rock and trees that rose behind it.

He had to admit it was impressive.

The lodge was old. It was plain to see in the grey stone and mortar, the steep roof, and the antiquated windows, upon which was reflected the treetops and sky. But it was square and solidly built. The neat white paint around the window frames and the smoke that puffed from the chimney gave it a warm, friendly appearance. The waterfall roared distantly, a single thread of white water that plunged into rock and spray.

Max looked around the parking lot. There were cars there, and humans on bicycles. More hikers. At least it did not seem to be busy. He read the sandwich board; so there was a restaurant here too. The visitor's centre was probably where he would find a map.

The sign in front of him looked useful. With a frown Max ran his eyes over it, looking for information.

[Feldspar]

The sign was good sized, and easy to read, even from where he was standing.

Multnomah Falls, it proclaimed in letters that stood out easily from the board. Columbia River Highway National Scenic Area. There was the logo of the US Forestry service on it as well. Below that were arrows pointing to different trails. It would be 1/4 mile up the Larch Mountain trail to the Benson Bridge (this was marked with a tiny closed sign.) One point one miles to the top of the trail. There was also a six mile loop on that one as well.

The final direction pointed towards the falls as well, but was a nearly five mile hike on a different trail - the Wahkeena Trailhead.

The coordinates she had left him appeared to land right in the middle of the the Wahkeena trail. So at least two miles from here, maybe a bit more by foot.

The visitors center was marked clearly on the outside of the building. It appeared to be on the East end of the Lodge, where the gift shop was also located. As Max watched, the door opened and couple of hikers walked out. They unfolded a map, checked it, and then began to head down the curving bit of pavement that lead away from the lodge. One of them was wearing a flannel shirt similar to his avatar's own.

Apparently that was a pretty common article of clothing among humans. Well, among hiking humans down in Washington and Oregon.

[Deleted]

Max studied the marks on the sign.

Perhaps he wouldn't need a map after all. This board had all of the information he needed - including the location of the trail that would lead to the place that the coordinates indicated. Once he got closer he would be able to use his avatar as a locator beacon of sorts to hone his scanners in on. At the middle point of this Wahkeena Trailhead his sensor range would be stretched however... he might be stuck digging and hoping he got lucky.

He grimaced. Hopefully there would be no other hikers nearby. Digging in the dirt with his hands would likely look strange.

The Wahkeena Trailhead lead up towards the falls as well, it seemed. That was good. It looked like it would be a long hike, but at least a scenic one. He shook his head. He'd never paid much attention to scenery before. Earth just offered so much more of it than Elba did. Or the ruined cityscapes of Cybertron.

He did a quick calculation. Two or three miles to the coordinates. The day was still young. He could make it. It wasn't as if he was due anywhere else. He could afford to go for a walk.

Max backed away from the sign and glanced around himself to get his bearings. All right. Multnomah Falls. According to the arrow the Wahkeena was this way.

With a new determination in his step he set out in the direction of the trail.