Cascadia

6. Danse Macabre

"Will you still be paying rent?" Mark McCreary asked when Avid announced his plan over breakfast that morning. Being concerned about the bottom line was very much on brand for Avid's roommate.

"Yes, I'll still pay rent," Avid assured him. "I'll only be gone for a month, maybe six weeks tops. I have no intention of going out and turning into some Redoubter."

Gavin McCreary, Mark's husband, said nothing as he stared into the toaster waiting for his everything bagel to pop. The man looked exhausted, still wearing his blue satin pajama bottoms and a white undershirt. The fuzzy shadow lining his jaw meant he hadn't yet had a chance to shave.

"What about your job?" Mark paced back and forth, wringing his hands together anxiously.

"I've been saving up my vacation time. I plan to cash in."

"Would you care to weigh in here?" Mark's pale gray eyes shot his husband a pointed look from across the kitchen just as Gavin's crispy bagel popped up.

"We're his landlords, not his parents," Gavin explained as he removed the slices from the toaster slots. "He's an adult. If he wants to go all Chris McCandless and get in touch with nature – and as long as he's still paying rent – then who are we to stand in his way?"

An incredulous look befell Mark's face. He shook his head vigorously enough to cause his dirty blonde hair to bounce around on top of his head, making him look like one of the Muppets. "I can't believe you actually think this is a good idea!"

"Oh, I don't. The kid doesn't know the first thing about surviving in the wilderness."

"Hey!" Avid interjected. "Sitting right here!"

Gavin ignored him, using a butter knife to lift a giant glob of cream cheese from the plastic container. He held it out for his anxious husband to see. "Eating this fat isn't exactly a good idea either, but I'm still going to do it. And so will he. Acceptance is key."

He spread the cream cheese across his bagel as Mark continued pacing back and forth, hemming and hawing. Avid hadn't meant to create such a fuss. Had he known it was going to be this overdramatized, he might have reconsidered telling them first. The conversation, however, had been enlightening in at least one regard. Avid made a mental note to head over to Powell's Books that afternoon to purchase some field guides and how-to survival manuals. He might've been clueless about nature, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn. But first, he needed to clear his upcoming expedition with his boss if he hoped to still have a job when he returned.

He was still a fresh and eager twenty-one-year-old when he first landed a job giving 'haunted' tours of the Shanghai Tunnels running beneath the streets and businesses of Portland's downtown area. Three times a night he took tourists into the historic, rundown maze and told them horrifying stories of kidnapping, human trafficking, drug smuggling, and murder. Often, people convinced themselves they could feel (and occasionally see) the ghosts lurking among the brick, wood, and cement passageways. Of course, just because people felt they needed to convince themselves ghosts were real, that didn't mean they weren't. Avid had learned this his very first night on the job.

After he'd completed his first tour, he returned to the tunnels afterward to get a better feel for the space, hoping to find ways he could improve for future tours. While walking alone through the tunnels, armed with only a flashlight, he watched as a single brick separated itself from a nearby pile and slide across the floor as if it had been kicked. Naturally, he'd been terrified at first, but then his bravery (or perhaps it was stupidity) got the better of him. He'd demanded to know who else was in the tunnel with him, expecting one of his coworkers to saunter out of the shadows, laughing about how they'd scared the new guy. Instead, the faint apparition of an old Chinese man appeared before him and told him, on no uncertain terms, to leave.