Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2019 15:42:40 -0800
From: Wayne Gray <waynewrite4u@gmail.com>
Subject: Camp Refuge - A Silent Song Chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Crowded Solitude

Bailey rubbed his face, his eyes tired.  He had been at the coffee shop
almost all day - studying his options, replying to prospective employers,
and reading the gentle rejections he received from all of them.

'I need a job.'  He blew out a breath.  'I need something.'  He leaned back
in the chair, and he looked up at the ceiling.  Bailey was in a Starbucks
in the Castro, in the city of San Francisco - one of the most iconic places
in gay culture in the United States.  Though reassuring to be surrounded by
gay men and lesbians, the cost of living in the city was astoundingly high.
He was currently staying at a hotel, but he was resigned to the idea that
he couldn't remain much longer.

He traveled to the city from San Diego where he was a US Navy Officer.
After his discharge, he thought perhaps his skills as a trained and
experienced engineer would enable him to land a job rapidly.  But that
hadn't been the case.

In an act of desperation, Bailey cast his net far and wide.  He applied to
jobs up and down the state - to anything which looked even remotely like
something he'd be able to do.  He had just shut off his iPad when his phone
vibrated.  Bailey took it out, and he looked at the message.

'Hello, Mr. Holbrook.  We have reviewed your qualifications, experience,
and your particular requirements for workplace accommodation.  We believe
we can accommodate your needs, and we have an opening for a man of your
skills.  The job description for the contracted engineering consultant is
attached.  If you can interview at our office in Crescent City, California
this Friday, and you feel you can meet the requirements for the work, then
please reply to this message.'

Bailey read the job description, and he grinned.  The company was called
`Granite Construction,' and they did a lot of roadwork in the state for
CalTrans.  Then his smile faded.  'Crescent City?  Where's that?'  He
punched the city into his mapping app.  Bailey made a face when he saw the
three hundred plus mile trip he would have to take north.

`It's barely in California.'

He couldn't afford to be choosy.  His income couldn't take San Francisco
prices much longer, so one way or another, he was leaving the city.

Bailey shrugged, sent a quick reply to say he would be there, and he downed
the rest of his coffee.  He stood up and went outside to the parking lot.

Bailey got into his beat-up Chevy Colorado.  Once on the street, he pointed
it toward his hotel room.  `Okay.  I've got to pack.  I guess I'm heading
to Crescent City tomorrow.'  It was Wednesday, late in the afternoon.  And
he was just about out of options.  This offer had to work out.

Bailey parked in the $25 lot near his hotel.  He grimaced as he did.
`Everything costs money here - a lot of it.'  His room was $180 a night.
Add on food, and a day in the city meant at least a cost of $250.  More if
he didn't carefully watch his expenses.

He got out and walked upstairs to his room.  It was a beautiful, October
day, and Bailey was a little sad he would have to leave the city.  He had
only just started connecting with a small group of people locally.  But
that couldn't be helped.

He opened the door and got his bag.  He started packing, and soon
everything was put away that he wouldn't need for his morning rituals.  It
was too late to leave on a three hundred mile trip, so he'd start out early
the next day.

Bailey lay on the bed, and he unlocked his phone.  `Cheap accommodations
crescent city' went into the search.  After the page loaded, he examined
his options.

`Oceanview Inn.  $53 a night.'  He nodded.  Then he read the `call for
reservations' bit.  He made a face.  `No online reservations?  Really?'
That was a dealbreaker for Bailey, so he navigated back a page and scrolled
down.

`What's this?  $25 a night for a cabin?'  He opened a link to an advertised
nearby campground, and he began to read.  `Lower rates for the offseason!
Family and Gay-friendly destination!  Come spend Fall with us!"

Bailey made a sound as he blew air out of his nose.  `Gay-friendly?  That's
surprising.'  He selected the link and an option for reserving one of four
available cabins came up on screen, along with a hand-drawn map of where in
the campground the cottages were situated.

He smiled.  `This is sort of perfect.  No indoor plumbing, but a short trip
to the showers and bathrooms.  A lot like living aboard ship in that
respect.'

Bailey found the map sort of homey, but cute too.  And he selected the
cabin closest to the river.  He loved to swim.  On the warm days left in
the year, a dip in the river would be welcome.

He reserved the cabin, starting the next day, all the way through the next
two weeks.  Then he had the receipt emailed to himself.  `Easy.'  He
nodded, satisfied with the simple process.

Bailey sighed, and he put the phone down on his chest.  He had already gone
for his jog early in the day.  He was packed, and his cabin was reserved.

`I should go buy a cooler and some food that'll keep a while.  Salami,
cheese, fruit, stuff like that.'  He continued to mentally plan, and he sat
up.  He stood and soon, Bailey was in his truck, on his way to REI in San
Francisco.

It wasn't long before the black-haired man had his cooler and the food.
Bailey also loaded the insulated cooler with ice.  He knew the ice would
easily last through the night and the five-hour drive to Crescent City.  He
put most of his things in his truck, set the alarm, and he went back to his
room.

It was only just after six pm.  But, Bailey was in for the night.  He
wanted to ration his money, so his entertainment was limited to whatever he
could find on his iPad.  Though, he had plenty to look up.

He searched for information on Granite Construction, Crescent City, and
Camp Refuge.  And he spent the next three hours taking notes and reading.

Finally, he put the iPad down to charge, and he yawned.

Bailey stripped off his clothes, and he pulled down the blanket and sheet.
He climbed in, and he reached to turn off the lamp.

Then he lay back.  Bailey stared up at the ceiling fan in the room, and he
watched as it turned in the near darkness.

He sighed.  `Well, this time tomorrow I'll be in a cabin, just outside of
Crescent City.'  He swallowed, and he ran his fingers along the left side
of his neck.  He lightly traced the sensitive skin there.

Bailey grimaced, then he rolled onto his side.  He held his pillow, and he
curled around it.  And though it took some time, he finally dropped off to
a restless sleep.

_______________________

Harlan woke.  It was still dark, and the only sounds were the river and the
gentle breaths of the man beside him.

Harlan rose up on an elbow and looked down at Orlando in the little
moonlight that filtered through the tent.  The handsome, brown-skinned man
was asleep.  And he felt warm and comfortable against Harlan's naked body.

But that was done.  Harlan carefully extricated himself from his spooning,
and he pulled on his shirt in the tent.  He found his shorts, and he
unzipped the tent.

Harlan stood up outside next to the tent flap.  He got his shorts on,
hidden in the dark, and he snagged his flip-flops near the entrance. Then
he zipped it back up.

Orlando slept through all of it - just as he had every night over the last
two weeks.

Orlando was working a job in Crescent City.  And the campground was the
best deal in the area.  When he arrived three weeks ago and set up his
campsite, he caught Harlan's eye.  And a week after he came, Harlan made a
move.

Orlando was more than happy to have sex with Harlan.  He would be in the
area for a couple of months, and Harlan found him a great and fun sexual
partner.

But Harlan wasn't interested in anything more with him.  Luckily, Orlando
was okay with that as well.

Not that it'd have mattered.  Harlan didn't do relationships.  Orlando was
someone who didn't require anything of him except for Harlan's cock up his
ass.  And that Harlan could give him.

He went to the shower room, locked the door, stripped, and he dropped a
dollar into the coin-operated device.  The water came on, and Harlan
stepped in.  He cleaned up and urinated down the drain while the warm water
ran.

The water kicked off, and Harlan dried himself. Then he put on his shorts
and flip-flops.  Harlan carefully opened the door.  He never turned on the
lights in the shower, so his eyes were still adjusted to the dark.  Harlan
didn't see anyone.  He knew it was likely around one or two AM, and nobody
was up.

Harlan padded silently to his cabin.  He slid his hand along the top of the
door.  The clear tape he put there when he left to go see Orlando was still
intact.  He smiled, sure his cabin didn't house any unwanted visitors, then
he unlocked and opened the door.  The tape snapped, and he entered.

Harlan still checked the inside of the small space.  Finally satisfied, he
crawled into his bed.

Harlan was eating well, exercising, sleeping enough, had shelter, and he
was now getting regular sex.  His basic biological needs were met.

"Can't ask for much more," he murmured.  Then he rolled into his sheet, and
he went to sleep.

_______________________

It was just after four PM on Thursday when Bailey's truck crept into the
campground.  He started at eight AM from San Francisco, but he didn't count
on the slow going required for the northern portion of the 101, and then
the 199 highway.

Regardless, he made it.  He pulled in next to the silvery shell of an older
Airstream, and he saw a forty-something brown-haired man step out toward
the road.  A lanky young guy sat at a patio table next to the Airstream at
a table, along with a broad, salt and pepper haired fellow.  The two at the
table looked casually over as Bailey waited for the man to get to him.  He
held his phone, a screenshot of his reservation on the device.

"Hello!"  The man smiled.  "I'm Greg.  I'm one of the camp hosts here at
Camp Refuge."  He cocked his head.  "Are you Bailey?  The guy who reserved
cabin five?"

Bailey nodded, and he handed over his license and the phone.  He watched as
Greg's eyes read the reservation information and look over Bailey's
license.  Greg nodded to himself, and he handed the items back to Bailey.

"Looks good."  Greg grew serious for a moment.  "I want to be sure you're
aware - we are a gay-friendly facility.  Do you have any issue with that?
If so, I'll refund you, and you can be on your way."

Bailey grinned, and he shook his head.  It was great to hear this guy lay
it all out right off the bat.

Greg smiled, and he extended a hand.  "Then, welcome to Camp Refuge,
Bailey."  As he shook Greg pointed.  "Keep heading along the loop.  Your
cabin is the first after you pass the river trail."  He dug in his pocket.
"Oh, and here's your key.  Let me or either of those guys at the table know
if you need anything."

Bailey took the key, and he nodded his thanks.  Greg stepped back, and
Bailey drove slowly along the paved, well-maintained road.

He looked with some interest at all the tent sites and at the cabins as he
motored along.  There were only a few tent campers, as the season was
almost over, and it was getting wetter and colder.  Though, cars were
parked at half of the cabins.

He also passed a structure near his cabin.  Bailey parked at his assigned
spot, and he got out of his truck.  He looked, curious at the open-sided
building.  That was the covered kitchen he saw in the information he read
on the campground last night.

`Huh.  That's different.'  Bailey knew that use of the kitchen was included
in his reservation fee.  And he planned to take advantage of that resource.

He unlocked the cabin, and he stepped inside.  The little building smelled
clean, and like the forest which completely surrounded the campground.
Bailey smiled.  `This is really cute.'  He put his bag down on the full
bed, then he went to fetch his cooler.

Soon he had unloaded all of his gear.  Bailey sat on the futon, and he
pulled up the email with his reservation on his phone.  He typed the wifi
password for the free internet into his iPad.  He smirked.  `I'm really
roughing it.'  Bailey was there for the meager cost, and not for the
camping experience.  And he needed the internet for his interview the next
day.  As well, if he got the job, he'd need the connection for various
aspects of the work.

He spent the next twenty minutes writing an email to confirm his interview
at ten AM in Crescent City the next day.

He finished, sent the email, and he stood up.  It was close to five PM, and
he was hungry.  Bailey took a plastic bag of marinating chicken thighs out
of his cooler, a plastic-wrapped box of mushrooms, and a little plate with
him.  Bailey left the cabin, and he checked the kitchen.  Nobody was there.
A few people were starting fires in their fire pits, and Bailey noticed
that he had a fire pit in front of his cabin as well.  `That'll be nice
when it cools off in the evening.'

Bailey walked over to the kitchen.  He quickly puzzled through how the gas
grill worked, and soon his chicken and mushrooms sizzled on the hot
appliance.  Bailey flipped the meat.  As he was focused on that task, a
shadow fell across the grill, and he looked up.

A plain-looking, brown-haired fellow eyed him.  The man glanced from Bailey
down to the meat as it cooked.  "Smells good."  He brought his green eyes
back up.  "I'm Harlan.  Nice to meet you."  He extended a hand over the
grill.

Bailey smiled.  He shifted the tongs he held, and he shook Harlan's hand.
He nodded affably.  Then Bailey went back to tending his food.

Harlan stood there a moment longer, then he cleared his throat.  "Okay.  I
guess I'll leave you to it."

Harlan walked away, his face neutral.  Bailey eyed him as he left.  Bailey
rushed through the remainder of his meal preparation.

Just as Greg, the camp host approached Bailey finished up.  The man smiled
at him.  "Hi, Bailey.  Find everything in the kitchen?"

Bailey nodded, put his head down, and he hurried away with his steaming
paper plate of grilled chicken and mushrooms.

He made it back to his cabin, and he put his food down on the small desk in
the building.  It was getting a bit dark, so Bailey turned on the desk
lamp.  He sat with his iPad off to the side as he ate, and he continued to
look over the company information for Granite Construction.  He wanted to
be an expert on the organization and the project before he ever walked
through the door.

Bailey finished his meal, and he took his paper plate and the biodegradable
plastic fork over to the upright, brown trash container near his cabin.
Then he took a few steps over to his fire pit.

The previous tenant left some wood stacked in a neat pile near the
iron-walled fire pit.  Bailey looked at the feature.  `A fire could be
nice.'  He wasn't a big camper, but he did enjoy a naked flame.

Bailey set about building a fire.  As he was about to light the ball of
paper beneath the teepee of kindling, he heard voices near the center of
the campground.

He looked, and there were some people gathered around a big fire.  It must
burn in the large pit he noticed near the kitchen.  He could see
silhouettes backlit by the flickering light.  Some pairs of men stood
close, arms around each other, while others talked and laughed among the
group.  Still, other folks sat at the benches that bordered the circular
area.

Bailey watched and listened.  `Sounds like they're having fun.'  He
swallowed, and he looked down at his own fire pit.  Suddenly, he wasn't in
the mood to sit alone by his fire.

He frowned and he tossed the little piece of kindling down beside the wood
pile.  Bailey looked longingly at the central fire pit and the happy group.

He subconsciously rubbed his throat as he debated.  `It might be okay.  To
go, sit and just hang out.  It might be fine.'

After an agonizing minute, his shoulders slumped.  `No.  It'd be awkward.
You won't fit in.  You never do.'

With one more dejected glance, Bailey sighed, and he silently entered his
cabin.

_______________________

It was a little before noon the next day.  Clay watched as the blue Chevy
Colorado pulled around the loop.  It parked at cabin five, and the tall,
black-haired man, Bailey, got out of the vehicle.

Clay knew Bailey had left around nine in the morning.  Both Clay and Greg
saw that he had turned west, toward Crescent City.

"He's a quiet one," Greg remarked as they watched him leave.  "Seems like a
guy who just wants to be left alone."

That was fine with Clay.  Bailey wasn't making trouble.  It was easy to
forget he was even there.  Even better, he had prepaid two weeks on his
cabin.

Clay got back to his chore of prepping lunch.  Five different campers paid
into the meal, so Clay was busy preparing burgers with all the fixings.

As Clay started frying the patties, he looked up to see Bailey.  The man
had a notepad under one arm, a camp chair under the other and he headed for
the river trail.

It had rained earlier in the day.  It was a short rain shower, but it was a
good amount of precipitation.  Now, the sun was out again.  Though the air
temperature was warm, Clay knew the river was currently unswimmable.  `I
hope he doesn't expect to take a dip.'  Bailey was in jeans and a t-shirt,
so Clay was pretty sure he wasn't interested in swimming.

His burgers hissed, and Clay looked back down to refocus on his current
task.

_______________________

Bailey carried his chair and notepad down the trail that led to the river.
He stepped onto a small river-side beach of wet sand and rocks.  Bailey
instantly noticed the boy sitting on a large rock that sat right next to
the brown water of the river.

The young man glanced over at him when Bailey exited the trail.  But he
went right back to staring out over the water.

Bailey debated leaving.  He had hoped he'd be the only one on the little
beach.  But the boy didn't seem interested in him at all.

`Good.'  Bailey set his chair down a few feet from the fast flowing,
turbulent water.  Then he took a seat.

He put his notepad in his lap, and he looked again at the boy.  The young
guy seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen years old.  He had a mop of
dark, untamed hair.  He was pale, and he looked a bit on the chunky side.
He also appeared quite pensive, and he brooded in silence.  He picked up a
pebble, and he threw it into the water with a little splash.

Bailey allowed himself a tiny empathetic smile.  He knew what it was like
to feel isolated, even in the presence of others.  `Alone in a crowded
room.'  Bailey opened his notepad, and he sighed.  `Welcome to my world,
kid.'

He pushed aside the negative thoughts, and he listened to the sounds of the
raging stream.  His interview went well, and he was hired for the
contracted engineer consultant.  His job specifically was to ensure Granite
Construction's planned execution of the CalTrans road widening project was
done in a structurally sound way.

Bailey began to list out all of the deliverables for the job.  Then, beside
each, he noted the desired date of completion.  This would become his
roadmap for the overall project.  He knew, if the work began to run behind,
that is when he would have to pay particular attention to any time-saving
measures Granite tried to take.  Ultimately, it would be Bailey's name
certifying the work as safe.  And he simply would not sign off for
substandard work or methods.

Granite knew this because Bailey told them.  Yet, they still hired him.  So
he knew they were all on the same page.

It was a funny sort of relationship.  Bailey was paid by the same people
who depended on him to ultimately approve the work done.  Luckily, Bailey
got the impression Granite wanted to do a good job, and that made it easy
for him to sign on.

He caught movement as the teenaged boy stood up on the rock.  The young
fellow cast a glance at him, and he turned in place to jump down onto the
sand.

Bailey watched him leave.  He spent a long moment, staring at the river
trail where the boy had disappeared to head back into camp.  He couldn't
help but feel a strange kinship with the quiet, moody teen.

'I get it.'  Bailey sighed, and then he looked to the churning, brown
waters of the river.  'I really get it.'

_______________________

"Rayne, there you are."  The teenager turned his head to see Jeremy, the
red-haired administrator of the Raven Project walking toward him.  He had
just left the trail that led down to the river.

"Hi, Mister Adams."  Rayne gave Jeremy a small smile as the man stepped up
next to him.

"I was looking for you.  You okay?"  Jeremy's blue eyes focused on Rayne.

Rayne looked down at his feet.  He knew Jeremy probably would have a bit of
a problem with him hanging out at the river unsupervised.  So he kept that
to himself.  "Yeah, I'm fine."  He sighed.  "I'm just gonna go read."  He
started to head for the cabin Jeremy rented for him and Avery.

"Well, okay."  Jeremy was obviously disappointed that Rayne seemed down.
"Let me know if there's anything you want to do, or anywhere you want to
go.  Okay?  We could probably get some guys together for a game."

"No.  It's fine.  I just want to read."  He forced a smile.  "Thanks,
Mr. Adams."

Rayne turned away, and he walked to his cabin.  He opened the door, and he
looked around.  He stepped inside, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  He
was alone in the cabin.  He liked Avery, but the boy was on fast-forward.
And he just didn't want to deal with Avery's rapid-fire questions and
comments at the moment.

He sat on the futon, and he pulled his dog-eared copy of 'The Call of the
Wild' from the little stand beside him.  Rayne opened the book, and for a
while, he could pretend that he was loose - with a pack of those who
understood and respected him - somewhere he could be free from judgment.

_______________________

Harlan worked at his father, Gary's store in Crescent City.  He actually
told his Dad to take the day off.  "When's the last time you had a day off,
Dad?"  Other than a cancer scare a few months back, he couldn't really
answer Harlan's question.

Harlan could easily handle the store solo.  It wasn't that the place wasn't
busy, but rather that Harlan was used to a much faster pace of life - one
which required him to think and act rapidly to be successful.  Though, by
comparison, now his days were languid and relaxed.

He closed up the shop at four, and he drove back to the campground.  Harlan
pulled into his cabin's parking spot, and he looked over at cabin five.

Bailey, the new camper headed toward the kitchen.  He had a plastic bag of
meat and vegetables in his hand, marinating in something.  Harlan sat in
his car a moment, and he eyed him.

'Stuck up bastard.  Wouldn't even talk to me.'  Harlan frowned.  He could
respect a man who wanted to keep to himself.  But, if Harlan greeted
someone, then he expected something in return.

Typically, Harlan wouldn't let it bother him.  He knew that about himself.
As he got out of the car, he forced a little self-reflection, and he was
annoyed at his conclusion.

'He's a handsome man,' Harlan admitted, and he shook his head at himself.
He found the quiet man attractive - something that didn't happen very
often.

Harlan went to the door of his cottage.  He carefully checked to ensure the
cabin had remained closed, and he was satisfied when he saw the intact
thread that crossed the gap between the door frame and the door.

He entered, and he went straight to his cooler.  'Maybe I'll give him
another chance.'  He smiled as he opened the insulated icebox, and he took
out a steak he had saved.  He looked thoughtfully at the beautifully
marbled cut.  'Maybe.'

_______________________

Bailey's mouth watered.  He got lucky again, and nobody was at the kitchen
when he walked over with his pork chop.  This time he marinated the meat in
a honey mustard dressing with big slices of onion and apples.

He put everything directly on the gas grill.  As he did, he realized
something.  'Shit.  I didn't clean the grill yesterday.'  In his haste to
avoid socializing, he left right after he finished.  And that meant whoever
came after him had to clean up the mess he made before they could ever get
started on their own food.

Bailey sighed, and he resolved to ensure the appliance was taken care of
after he finished this time.  His dinner heated up and gave off an
intoxicating aroma as the sugars in the marinade caramelized on the meat,
apples and the onions.

The man, Harlan approached.  Bailey bit his lip.  The interaction yesterday
with the brown-haired guy was a bit awkward.  And Bailey watched as he drew
close.

Harlan put a steak wrapped in plastic down on the picnic table.  He glanced
at Bailey, then stepped into the kitchen behind him, grabbed a couple of
plates from the rack where they were stored, and he unwrapped his steak.
Harlan then went back to the picnic table and salted and peppered the meat
well on the plate.

Bailey made himself concentrate on his grilling.  He couldn't hurry through
cooking pork.  He kept his head down, but he couldn't help notice that
Harlan had parked himself on the edge of the picnic table.  The man leaned
against it, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Bailey didn't want to look up.  Harlan was utterly silent, and he merely
stood there.  The silence drew on, and finally, Bailey looked at him.

Harlan's face was neutral, and he looked at Bailey.  He didn't say
anything.  Bailey swallowed, and he gave Harlan a smile and a nod.  Then he
went back to his grilling.  'What does he want?'  Bailey frowned to
himself, and he checked his pork chop with his finger.  He could tell by
the firmness how done it was.  He was relieved that the meat was finished.

Bailey pulled all of his food off of the grill.  Then he turned up the
heat.  As the grill heated up, he scoured it with the metal bristle brush
that lay off to the side.  It didn't take long, and the surface was just as
clean as when he started.

He reached to turn off the heat.

"Leave it."  Harlan picked up his plate.  His eyes found Bailey's.  "Oh,
and thanks for cleaning the grill today."  There was a slight smirk on the
man's face.

Bailey flinched.  He gave Harlan a chagrined smile, then he picked up his
dinner, and he stepped around Harlan.

He walked quickly to his cabin.  Bailey set his food down on his desk, and
he sat heavily in the chair.  'Fuck.'  He stared down at the crosshatched
grill marks on the pork chop.  'I'm already pissing off the natives.'

Bailey sighed, and he picked up his knife.  As he went to cut his food into
bite-sized pieces a flash of lightning flared outside, and flickered into
his cabin through the window.  A peal of thunder followed a few seconds
after and grumbled like an angry titan across the sky.

Bailey looked at the window and then as the rain pattered on the roof of
his cabin he snorted air out of his nose.

'Perfect.'  He sheared a bite off of his dinner and he put the morsel into
his mouth.  'Suits my mood.'