Fictionarium 11. Barbed-wire Triangle -Original Story by @therealpaul

"Why is it that even the sunshine here in Hill Valley seem like it's up to no good-- as if there were nothing to hide in this bright, shiny workplace." 

Chapter 11

image by me @therealpaul
 

Arlo chuckled at Mel's question. He knew what she meant, but had never thought of it that way. It was true though-- as they drove across town, it seemed like Hill Valley was a happily chirping civilization, enjoying the pinnacles of all the finest technology, and rolling freely in the benefits of the combined wisdom of it's people-- but something was always amiss, and they all knew it. 

The brakes were squeaky on Arlo's car, and he leaned forward over the wheel. "'Radio Tower Road' ahead-- put up the shields!"
Mel unfolded and quickly plastered the official Hill Valley map over the passenger-side window and ducked down as they slowed. With a thumb, Arlo mashed some information out of the device on his dashboard. "Yeah, I'm only showing one camera… it's the TV station's gate cam… right there." 

Mel let down the map as Arlo pointed at another gate. "Check it out… this other gate, got the fake camera, but look at the tire tracks… somebody… and look!" 

There were two gates-- on the right was the TV's chain-link entrance to the paved drive up Tower Mountain, and to the left, what should have been Radio Tower Road was blocked by an old steel-framed gate with a padlock and chain. Woven into this gate's fencing was a triangle of rusted barbed wire, hardly noticeable until now. Mel could tell that this triangle had some meaning for Arlo, and she waited for him to explain.
 

Arlo pulled away slowly, leaning for a look down the gated dirt road, and then made a u-turn and crept past the entrance again before speeding away with a sad gurgle from his car.

 "So much for 'CAMP K'. I knew that was going to be spooky."

 'CAMP L' was next, which meant driving around Tower Mountain, and Arlo started the drive with his explanation of the barbed-wire triangle.  

 "You know how an upward pointing triangle is a symbol for male, or masculinity, and all… and a downward pointing triangle represents a female…" Arlo searched for words. "Well, if you think about it, you can see why that shape, pointed downwards, it looks… if you think about it…"

 Mel shook her head. "I can tell you've thought about it some."

 Arlo laughed. "I have! Anyway, Hill Valley has a sort of… 'men's club'… like a secret society thing-- basically a group of old guys who try as hard as they can to be evil, and that male triangle-- like a pyramid-- is one of their little tags. They fancy themselves as the ones who would be in control as long as they can suppress the feminine energy… the care of the world… so they plop that male symbol everywhere they can, trying to shape the mind of the town with their subliminal crap." 

 Mel heard it, and got it, but this reminder her of something. "You said that Don Felger would be at CAMP M… how do you know that?" 

Arlo was glad she remembered-- he'd never finished explaining that. "That's another one of those tags… the letter 'M'. It shows up all the time… I don't know a lot about that symbolism, it wasn't part of my school. Whatever it means to them, I don't know, but Felger, he's superstitious, and as crooked as this road. He's as wicked as he can be, really-- and for him, 'M' is simply enough, the thirteenth letter in the alphabet. He's obsessed with it, one might say."
 

With Tower Mountain now between them and Hill Valley, the dirt road became rougher, and Arlo slowed-- but only slightly-- for the bumps. His car was perfect for these all-terrain excursions, because it was a company car, which meant that it was actually Don Felger's car. A small ravine in the road made a tremendous thunk through the car's chassis, when they both saw the overgrown road on the right. Arlo yanked the wheel into the weeds, and with a horrible scraping groan, they disappeared into the brush.

 A long thicket of blackberry brambles showed where the old road was, and with the windows up they scraped through with an unnerving roar from the floorboards.

 After what seemed like a mile, the brush thinned out and the road jutted abruptly to the right. Crawling over another rock with another excruciating grind on the floorboard, Arlo stopped, because what was in front of them was perfect.

 It was a rigid log cabin on the edge of a natural meadow. The grayed old timbers were tight, the chimney was solid, and it even had a nice porch looking over the sunny little glen.

 This was 'CAMP L', Arlo's new home.

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 thanks for reading this episode of Fictionarium
Previous episode link is HERE
FICTIONARIUM: Where ordinary life always seems like someone else's idea.

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