Atlantis Chronicles: Prince of The Olympics

April 27 PM

“Are you an elf?”

“Wh- what?” Michael stammered.

“Are you an elf? Like your friend? I saw his pointy ears.” Michael turned from the little blond girl that had been staring them, to Guy sitting next to him. He watched as Guy’s right ear instantly

rounded behind his white hair.

“N- no! I’m not an elf, and neither is my friend. Guy, show her your ears.” Guy pulled his long hair into a ponytail behind his head, exposing his perfectly round ears. “See? He’s no elf. I’m not

either.” Michael tugged his own ear tops. “No elves here! Unless . . . it’s you! Are you an elf?” He looked down at the big blue-eyed cutie as she snuggled closer to her mom. The bus turned a corner and

started rattling up a hill.

“No.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rayne.”

“Hi, Rayne. I’m Michael. This is Guy. Can you show me your ears? I bet they really are pointy!” She pulled her golden curls back revealing one little round ear. Then she turned and finally sat in her seat.

“Michael,” whispered Guy, “you are good with children.”

“Thanks,” he whispered back, then, “This is our stop. Bye Rayne! Good luck finding those elves!” They headed up the last few blocks to the visitor’s center, when Guy broke the silence.

“Michael, I have become so comfortable around you that I was careless. I am sorry.”

“Guy, I don’t know the secrets that you have. I didn’t know that you had pointy ears, or that you can change them at will. All I know is that you’re amazing! You can do so many amazing things! I’m glad

that you’re comfortable around me.” They continued half a block in silence. “We’re still on for June 10th right?”

“Well. . . yes.”

“Great! Hurricane Ridge?” They resumed walking up the hill.

“Yes. Bring warm clothes.”

“Gotcha. Say, Guy? Are you an elf?”

“’Elf’ is one of those names given to my race. It is not a term we use though.”

“Sorry. So, do you, or your brother have children?”

“In our culture, few choose the role of parent.”

“Are there any Atlantean children up in the Olympics right now?”

“There is but one under age thirty, though I know a couple that will soon have an infant.”

“How many Atlanteans did you say were up there?”

“We are asked to keep our numbers secretive. The Enrai felt that information could be dangerous to our communities.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” They walked quietly as the Olympic National Park Visitor’s Center came into view.

“You said that ‘elf’ is only one of the names you’re called. What are the others?”

“I can only name a few, as I am not very familiar with human history, but in our history, we have been called naiads . . . dryads . . . fairies . . . witches . . .“

“Ha! Most human women have been called witches from time to time. Even here in the twenty-first century!”

“There is ogres . . .”

“Ogres? Human men are called that on occasion!”

“They have called us wizards. . . vampires.”

“Why vampires?”

“I guess because we are so long lived. We travel mostly at night. The closest we can figure is superstition.”

“You don’t drink blood do you?”

“Michael, you are alive. I have slept in your bedroom for two nights.”

“Yeah. That’s right. Sorry.”

“There was one name that humans gave us that was my favorite. It was from the children of Eyurro. There were a couple communities of Atlanteans, one that lived on the top of a mountain in Greece, another in the mountains of Norway. The locals ended up worshipping them as gods.”

“Actually, I can understand that.”

“Really? I was always amused by it.”

“Guy, I am walking and talking with a being that learns in seconds, reads minds, heals anything in minutes, and can change his appearance in a moment. Humans can’t do any of those things.”

“We never thought of it that way.” As they continued the climb to the park offices, Michael noticed that he was breathing hard. Guy was not.

Michael grabbed the door to the visitor’s center, but he didn’t open it, yet.

“Are all Atlanteans like you? You know, the healing, and all?”

“No. Not all. And very few can do it to the degree that I can.”

Michael yanked the door open. “See, I knew you were special!”

He led Guy through the lobby to the physical wall map of the park. He then spent some time explaining to Guy how to read the gigantic plaster wall piece, where they currently stood, Hurricane

Ridge, the Dungeness and Elwha Rivers. Guy was soaking in the place names, as though memorizing for a test. Soon, he was explaining to Michael, about the rain forest on the western slopes, how quickly the nine glaciers near Olympus were receding, interesting sites not served by trail. Soon, five people besides Michael were listening in on Guy’s in-depth descriptions of a starry sky from the ridge above Buckinghorse Creek, the morning dew in a meadow south of Kimta Peak, the ‘Old-Man’s-Beard’ in the old growth along Finley Creek. It was when the group had grown to nearly a dozen, and when Guy started talking about where to find the black bears, cougars, and

mountain goats of the park, that he was interrupted.

“Sorry, but the park service will be conducting a count of mountain goats this summer. It sounds as if you have a bit of that information already. I’m Ranger Traci Johnson. If you have a few minutes

afterwards, could I have you meet with my supervisor? I’m sure he’ll be glad to talk with you.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Michael grabbed Guy’s arm and headed into the empty theater.

“We’re drawing a lot of attention here! That attention is about to be from the experts themselves. These rangers are the guys that are supposed to know this area. If you show them up, they’ll be

suspicious. There are rules here you know!”

“You are correct, Michael. I will be more careful.” They spent the next forty minutes watching a history of the park before heading to the gift shop. They had just chosen a good map for Guy, and were waiting to buy it, when Ranger Traci stepped up to the counter.

“Guys?” she said. “Is this the one you want?“

“Yah,” Michael replied.

“The price is $10.99. With tax, it’ll be $11.91.”

Michael handed over twelve bucks, pocketed the change, and handed the map roll to Guy, who squeezed it into the backpack.

“If you have a minute, would you come with me?” Guy nodded, and followed her toward a back door. Michael shook his head at him, then hurried to catch up. She led them out back, into one of three small buildings. Two rangers were at work, one on a computer screen, the other on a cell phone. Ranger Traci stood with them while the ranger with the nametag labeled “Gene” completed his call.

“Ari?” He hollered to the ranger on the computer, “We’ve got raccoons in a garbage can at Olympic Hot Springs Campground. Give the crew a couple extra hours tomorrow to deal with it, okay? Have them bring a couple live traps.”

“Gotcha!”

After Ranger Gene waved her over, Traci offered, “Gene, these are the guys I told you about. They seem to have a lot of info about the park’s mountain goats.”

“Thank you, Traci.” Gene nodded, stood and then made his way to a map on the wall. “Gentlemen, can you join me please?” As Michael and Guy headed over, Traci gave a reassuring smile, then she headed back out of the building.

Gene grabbed a yellow marker and made four circles on the laminated map. “Gentlemen, mountain goats, like all of us, are creatures of habit. Historically, the bulk of the population can be found in any

of these areas. The Needles, The Valhallas, The Bailey Range, or The ridges north of the Duckabush River, usually, on the southern exposures- or the rocky crags.”

“He is correct.” Guy whispered to Michael. “That is where most of the goats are.”

“Of course I’m correct!“ he hollered. “We’ve been keeping an eye on these goats since they were reintroduced, and we became a national park! My question is, are there any areas missing that might be home to any other mountain goats?”

Michael felt the Ranger’s eyes on him. In fact, this was the first time that Gene had even looked at him, or at Guy. Glancing over, Guy had a shocked expression on his face while staring at the ranger.

Michael didn’t like the ranger’s condescending tone, either.

“Well?” Gene insisted shortly. Suddenly, Michael was getting irritated.

“Just as I thought . . “ the ranger began.

“What was it, Guy?” Interrupted Michael, “Pyro Peak? Isn’t that the group of goats that you said was getting bigger back in there?”

“Piro’s Spire,” Guy corrected, “They range from Piro’s Spire to Chimney Peak. Just a small group, Maybe eight to twelve goats. Mostly young ones that probably separated from your Duckabush group.”

Now, it was Gene with the shocked expression. He was staring at the map. Michael enjoyed the ranger’s silence.

“How recent is this information?”

“I was by there myself about eight weeks ago.” Said Guy.

“Two months. That’d be late March. . . “ Gene stopped his calculations and looked Guy over. What did you say your name was?”

Michael jumped in. “My name is Michael. His name is Guy.”

“Well, Guy, the hiking trails at high elevation do not open until June. Are you working for a firm, or do you lead hiking groups on your own?”

“I was by myself.” The park ranger, took half a step back, and squinted his eyes.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked.

“How is your back, Gene?” Guy whispered. The ranger looked quizzically at Guy for a while, then his whole mood changed. He had a bright smile, and reached out to shake Guy’s hand.

“It’s doing fine!” he bellowed. Then they shook hands like old friends. Now it was Michael’s turn to look shocked.

“Ari? I’m taking a break. Be back in fifteen.”

Gene led Guy out of the building and to a picnic bench nearby. Michael followed.

“I prayed that I’d get a chance to thank you someday. Thank you!” Gene extended his hand to Guy, again.

“I am glad you are doing so well!” Guy replied with a smile.

Michael interrupted, “What is happened here? Are we in trouble?” Guy shook his head.

“Sorry, kid,” answered Gene. “My name is Gene Sartonni.” He again extended his hand, “A while ago, I was hiking around the park and managed to pull a tree down on top of myself. ‘Manning?’ here pulled the tree off, and healed me up, then took off before my brother could thank him. You are just like my brother’s descriptions.”

“That sounds like Guy all right.” Michael shook hands with the park ranger. “He wants to go back up into the mountains again.”

“Really? I was kind of hoping I could . . . well, never mind! Let me go check out. I’ll take the two of you up myself.” Five minutes later, after Michael exchanged numbers with Gene, Guy climbed into Gene’s gray four by four, and pulled the door closed. Michael stood outside the passenger door.

“Michael, thank you for helping, and for allowing me the time and place to recover these last two days. Thank you for the clothes, and the map, and teaching me so much about you. Thank Marie for me as well.”

“Now wait a minute! We are still getting together in June, right?”

“. . . I will try and be there, just as we discussed.”

“All right! Take care, Guy! ’Bye Gene!”

“I’ll give you a call later, Michael. ’Bye.”

“Seems like a nice kid.” Gene said as the truck rolled out of the parking lot.

“Yes. He is. He may have saved my life these last two days.”

“Wow!” Gene waited for more, but none came. What could possibly have laid low someone like Guy? He could lift trees! Michael is definitely someone that needed more talking with. “You know that there’s still six feet of snow on the ground in some places up there? You don’t exactly look ready for the weather this time.” Guy looked at the borrowed ‘Motor head’ t-shirt, the sweat pants, the windbreaker, and Michael’s old runners.

“True. My hiking clothes and boots are in here,” he casually patted the blue and black loaner backpack of Michael’s.

It took Gene ten minutes to piece together what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it, before he continued.

“Guy, You sure look a lot younger than I would have imagined. I feel like I’ve known you for years, and, look, you’re barely a man yourself! Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that I’ve done quite a

lot of thinking, and I’m glad that you spend summers here at the park. It’s nice knowing that there is someone that can do what you can do, and they’re on the way, if you can just hold out for a while.”

“Thank you, Gene.”

“My brother, Tony, do you remember him?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he remembers you, too. He doesn’t seem to like the idea that you’re running around up here, so close to his home, and that you are strong enough to lift trees, heal people, and god knows what else.”

Gene and Guy briefly held each other’s gaze.

“Anyway, I just want to say that . . . I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to make him see the gift that you’ve given me.” They, again, locked eyes.

“He’s been in contact with the media. Some Seattle reporter is doing a piece on the weird happenings in the Olympics. They interviewed me, at my boss’s request, but I really had nothing to say. They even took me out to Carrie Creek to shoot where the log jam was. Then they went out to Zion National Park in Utah to talk with Jordan Jackson. Anyway, Tony doesn’t seem to want to paint a very pretty picture of you.” Gene slowed as the truck neared the Olympic National Park entrance. “Just to let you know.”

As Gene slowed to stop at the park gate, Guy cleared his throat.

“Ah!” he said, “we are here.”

“What? The campground?”

“No. There. The trailhead to Angeles Lake.” Gene followed the signs to the trail parking. A sign pointed to a trail heading up the mountain.

“Anyway, I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I’m married now. Our second child, another daughter, turned one last month. I’ve never been happier.”

“I am glad that you are happy now, Gene.” Guy rolled down the window, and got out of the truck. “Please, do not worry about your brother.”

“You know, I’m glad you’ll be meeting up with Michael again. It pains me to think that you’re up here alone with those reporters after you.”

“How can I be alone with friends like you and Michael? Besides, they will have some difficulty catching up to me in these hills. They are my home. Goodbye.” Guy turned and headed up the trail at an astonishing clip.