Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
*
A few days later, we welcomed a night out in the wild. We’d had a cabin the last couple of days, and both Roe and I preferred to pitch a tent with nobody around.
It was difficult not to park my ass in the van and go through footage, presumably as hard as it was for Roe to put down his books and notepads, but we’d become pros. While he pitched the tent next to the Sprinter, I built a fire and prepared our last shooting location for the day.
A classic. Forest and half the tent in the background, darkness had fallen, sausages ready for the fire, one thermos with coffee…
I folded a blanket that we could sit on, and then I got the camera ready.
“What do you want this talk to be about?” I asked.
“I was thinking the camping laws since they’re pretty unique to the region,” he replied, coming out of the tent.
Good topic. I’d made sure the fire couldn’t spread. That would look wonderful on film if we discussed a law we weren’t abiding by ourselves.
I shuddered as a harsh wind blew through our campsite, and I huddled closer to the fire and got comfortable. We were farther up north, where snow still covered the ground in some places—not just the mountains.
Roe joined me and double-checked so that the correct brands were visible to the camera. Definitely something to get used to.
“Do you have the hot dog buns?”
“Yeah, right here.” I dug out six of them before I stashed the bag behind me. “We’re recording, so whenever you’re ready.”
“Cool.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. I kept my beanie on. “I hope I don’t butcher the pronunciation too much.” He practiced the word under his breath. “Allemannsrett. I think that’s how the guide said it. Allemannsrett.”
He could be goddamn charming at times. It was impossible not to smile. And get a little protective in a way. He had no reason to be nervous. He was fantastic at this.
While he prepared himself, I stuck two hot dogs on a stick and angled them into the glow near the edge of the fire.
“You know what—let’s eat first,” he said. “I can’t think of a good approach.”
“Okay.” I nodded. I had a feeling he was struggling with the tone. We were used to engaging with our viewers through comedy, and this wasn’t that type of show. It was supposed to be much more informational.
I kept the camera on, though. We never knew when inspiration would strike, and he might find the right angle in the middle of dinner.
“Would you consider a project in the future that’s more about people than nature?” he wondered. “Like, more interview-based and stuff. Maybe about underrepresented cultures or…I don’t know,” he chuckled, “people who’ve escaped cults.”
I grinned faintly. “Yeah, definitely. Not everything has to be about travel and nature.”
By the looks of it, he already had an idea. I’d actually proposed something similar last year, because I knew the investigative journalist in Roe loved to sink his teeth into psychology and trauma. Not that my proposal had had anything to do with trauma. I’d just figured it would’ve been interesting to interview the people who drove around LA selling food from their hometowns in South America and Asia. I was addicted to small-town stories and local cultures.
“Most of it, though. Let’s not get crazy,” he responded. “But I read something a while ago that stuck with me. One of the books Greer gave me.” He’d shared stories about Greer’s love for giving away literature. “It was a psychiatrist’s research into indoctrination and deprogramming—everything from conversion therapy to showing a former gang member a better path. The good and the bad of altering behaviors and nature, in short.”
That sounded heavy. I furrowed my brow and turned the hot dogs, then trapped the stick under a rock so I didn’t have to hold it.
“There was a very interesting section about soldiers, by the way,” he continued. “Like how to get in the right mind-set and prepare for war. Talk about dizzying. I had no idea what they put service members through—or how vital it is. But it comes with consequences, you know? When the soldier comes home, for instance. He’s still stuck in war mode, for lack of a better term, while the rest of the family isn’t. How alienating that can be.”
I nodded slowly, with him so far. I could relate to that part very well.
But back when I’d joined the Marines, I’d welcomed the military doctrines they’d drilled into our skulls. I’d become someone else. I’d perfected my compartmentalization skills.
“What I found even scarier is that sometimes you don’t need indoctrination to instill something,” he said. “I mean, we’ve heard stories about religious indoctrination—and what I said, shit like conversion therapy—and cults and whatnot. But if a child is involved, there’s a risk of fucking them up with a single opinion.”