SODIUM:1 Harbinger
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Authors: Stephen Arseneault
SODIUM
1 Harbinger
By: Stephen Arseneault
Freedom is every man’s right. Freedom is every man’s responsibility. What’s the use of living if you can’t live free? What’s the use in dying if you can’t die trying!
S.A.
Dedicated to my three diamonds. Lori, Caitlyn and Ashley!
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Copyright 2012-2013 Stephen Arseneault, All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
SODIUM:1 Harbinger
Chapter 1
I was sometimes an obsessive compulsive when challenged. That personality trait could be a blessing or a curse depending on the circumstance. It was early June of the summer of 1957. A peaceful getaway with my sister and friends had just begun, a getaway that would change the course of my life.
I had been bouncing around in the back of a Jeep for several hours as we crept our way along an old Indian trail. We were heading to our first night’s camp. The danger that lay ahead would call on me to summon a level of courage that I was not sure I had; confidence was not one of my stronger traits.
The four of them had great stories to tell whenever they returned from an adventure. I was looking forward to finally taking part in one. Little did I know that it would be a story that I could never tell. It was one of those that no one would believe unless they had been there and witnessed it with their own eyes.
The terrain on the trail was rough and the old World War II Jeeps seemed to constantly struggle to make their way, but make it they did. I was riding in the back of the second Jeep and had been holding on for dear life to a leather hand strap that was bolted to the side of the back seat. It was the only thing that had kept me in the constantly bucking and jerking metal contraption.
We were on a high trail that offered a steep incline on one side and a 60 foot cliff that dropped into a ravine on the other. As we came around a bend the Jeep bounced heavily and came to an abrupt halt. With that bounce I went up in the air and came down hard on the back left side of the vehicle.
The fall bruised my ribs and knocked the breath out of me. The trail edge had given way, probably due to weakening from the winter snow melt. The result being that the Jeep now tilted heavily towards the cliff’s edge.
In my shock and pain I proceeded to helplessly roll off the left side of the Jeep. I was faced with a long drop down into the craggy, rock infested ravine below. As I began my roll, Bruce (we called him Bull), reached out from the driver’s seat and made a lucky grab of my right arm, it was nearly pulled from its socket.
For several seconds I dangled over the edge as Bull held strong. The old seat-belt of the Jeep and his grip on the steering wheel held Bull in place as he steadied himself. With a long loud grunt, my friend since junior high pulled me with one arm up and over himself and into the now vacant passenger seat of the precariously positioned vehicle.
Allie (Allexa, Bull’s wife) sprang into action from the passenger seat and was reeling out the cable from the winch while at the same time looking for a large rock or tree to secure it to. As I lay upside down in the passenger seat moaning, another pair of hands grabbed under my arms and pulled me out onto the safety of firm ground. It was Kyle, my soon to be brother-in-law.
As the Jeep continued to slowly slide Bull unbuckled himself. He followed me out of the passenger side moving carefully as to not send the Jeep over the edge before his escape. Meanwhile, Allie had found her tree and secured the cable. Just as Bull’s first foot hit the ground the cable tightened and held fast, stopping the Jeep just as it began its death roll.
As fast as the cable pulled tight, Allie was back at the ratcheting winch pumping away. She worked the three foot long lever handle with her strong back and athletic legs. Inch by inch she slowly pulled the Jeep back to secure ground. Except for the pain I was now feeling the whole episode seemed to be over almost before it had begun. We took a ten minute break to rest and regain our composure.
Allie was not afraid of a little “heavy work” as she called it. For 1957 she was not your typical woman. At 5‘11” she towered over most of the women of her day. She had an athletic build that was also feminine and very well proportioned. She often prided herself in being compared to Annie Oakley, only she would say she was much taller.
In the face of danger Allie seemed fearless and quick minded. Those traits had saved her and Bull from a bear attack some years earlier when she distracted the bear just as it was about to maul her husband. It was a story Bull loved to re-tell whenever they made new acquaintance.
Bull was a big ole country-boy. He had a quick wit and a big toothy grin that somehow made everyone around him smile. At 6‘5” and 260 pounds he was also a big intimidating fella. And most of that weight was muscle. If you met him, he had a manner about him that quickly put you at ease.
From the first time I saw Bull I imagined him walking barefoot behind a plow horse in his coveralls with a straw hat on his head and a hayseed hanging out of his mouth. It was either that or the plow horse was walking behind him. I was sure it would have worked either way. For Bull having the country-boy persona was all part of his charm. It helped him to disarm business clients when deals were to be made.
For 25 years Bull’s father had been running a small general store in the town of Roswell just north of Atlanta. After growing up watching his father deal with the business he had plans of opening a business of his own. Those plans were put on hold when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and war was declared. Bull was 14 then and by the time he turned 18 the war was ending. Even though he volunteered to join the Army he was an only son and they had told him to stay put.
So, at 18 he took the money he saved from working and opened Big Al’s hunting and fishing supply, aptly named after his father. Big Al’s had been an early success and over the next 12 years had grown into a chain of five such stores spread around the North Georgia area. If you were interested in hunting or fishing around the northern half of the state then Big Al’s was the place to go for outfitting.
The group’s adventure out west to the back country of Yosemite National Park in California had been put together to explore a business venture for the store. The Jeeps were rented from a sports outfitter in Sacramento and delivered to the trail head at Buck Meadow along with most of the camping supplies.
The venture was to offer an outing into the wilds of America where the first ten miles were by Jeep and the remaining 87 would be with backpack on foot. The Yosemite Sportsman Adventure package was to be a two week excursion when counting a flight from Atlanta, Georgia to Sacramento, California and back. The Atlanta Municipal Airport had just begun flights for commercial traffic the month before and the trek to St. Louis, then Denver, then over the mountains to Sacramento and back had just opened up.
Bull and Allie loved the idea of offering the package to their high-end clients and in the process opening up a whole new field of sportsman travel adventures. Aside from expanding their business it would also enlarge their circle of friends and they loved to keep company.
After a day’s ride in the Jeeps, the plan was to camp overnight and then spend the next ten days backpacking. We carried food supplies even though we would be hunting and fishing for most of our meals. It was a rugged trip, but the group was well prepared.
After the ten minute break the wheels of the Jeeps were once again rolling. I winced whenever we hit a small bump along the way and there were a lot of them. We came down off the high trail only to have the path cross a rushing stream. The water moved swiftly and was a foot and a half deep at the crossing point.
With the winter snow melt just finishing up the stream was near its seasonal peak. The Sacramento outfitter had warned about the crossing and its dangers. We would have to once again use the winch on the second Jeep while sending it across first.
Before we started on our crossing plan Allie took notice of my discomfort at every bump and suggested that we stop for lunch. Basecamp was still several hours down the trail and we had half a day of daylight remaining. So we parked, stretched and began preparing our meal. After the bumpy ride I was in dire need of the break.
The stream was an awesome setting for our small feast. The warm sun was shining down through the trees above and the clear blue sky surrounding it was probably the deepest purest blue I had ever seen. The late spring greens of the surrounding vegetation and the large rounded granite boulders of the Yosemite area gave us a show of what the wilds of America were like.
Being there along that old Indian trail and witnessing the beauty that nature had to offer was going to be a big selling point for future adventurers. Even with my banged up ribs I was glad I had come. My life at home had been anything but adventurous as of late.
I had just signed the papers on my third divorce. In the 1950’s getting divorced was frowned upon heavily, but when you had no choice, you had no choice. Shelly, the third wife, had run off with a grease monkey who worked in a local garage installing transmissions. She dumped me to move out of our new 2000 sq. ft. home and into a bug infested trailer.
They used to say that you could take the woman out of the trailer park, but you could not take the trailer park out of the woman. I had just proven that analogy true. I was successful in business, but in life I just did not understand what it was that women wanted.
I sold insurance… homeowners, life, business, you name it… and I was good at it. It wasn’t particularly fun or exciting, but I was willing to work at it to bring home a good paycheck. At the time it was very lucrative for someone with the right connections and I had the financial connections to many of Atlanta’s wealthy, many of whom were looking to invest in the insurance game or needed insurance themselves.
My first two wives had been trophy wives. They were both attractive and very well connected in the Atlanta social scene. It had helped tremendously at getting my insurance business off the ground. It had also placed each of them into situations where men who were much wealthier than I would ‘chat them up’ at the dinner parties and the other social affairs that we attended.
Each wife had been scooped up by the son of a wealthy Atlantan who had inheritances worth way more than I would potentially make in my lifetime. They were also very handsome young men. At 5‘6”, I was always looking up to the taller southern gentlemen that were amongst my clientele.
I considered myself a decent looking guy and I was sensible, responsible and had a good sense of humor. I never raised my hand to my wives and I never confronted them in anger. But my height and the social situation had always worked against me. It didn’t help that my personality was a bit obtuse and self-centered; that was great for sales, but not so good on the romantic front.
That’s why Shelly had been selected as wife number three. She was homely, seemed to be a quiet girl and showed no interest in the night life. And she had no compulsion to spend like my first wives. I thought I had finally found the right recipe for marital bliss when she up and ran off with the mechanic.
I had fallen hard for all three of these women, but maybe what I thought was love was just a desire to be married, or maybe it was just an infatuation with each of them at the time. I was told that I was in need of an education on women because I could not seem to figure it out on my own. My only consolation was that all three had left the marriage with no financial demands. So, I at least still had my money.
My sister Susi was a looker. She was smart, but she was also a big spender. To fund her habits she kept Kyle busy selling autos down at the local dealer. Kyle had managed to make himself the lead salesman for 1955 and 1956. And with Susi’s spending habits he knew he would have to keep it up for each coming year. The one big difference in their relationship from each of mine that I could see was that she really did love him, and it was not for his money.
Susi was my younger sister by six years. She had attained a degree in education from the University of Georgia. She and Allie were cheerleaders for the football team and had become fast friends. They were a strange pair as they were complete opposites. That would all change when they came together with each one taking on the characteristics of the other.