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)
Fucking hell. I averted my gaze out the window. I’d heard so many similar stories over the years, but I still felt the same hatred simmering below the surface. I’d just gotten better at handling it.
“As a Marine yourself,” he said, “how do you reconcile needing justice and not wanting to see innocent people get hurt?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?
“You don’t.” Unfortunately. “The problem is, at first, when your own hurt is fresh, you don’t see innocent people at all. It’s an age-old tactic used to protect the troops, to keep them from hesitatin’—you dehumanize and demonize the enemy, basically turning every face you see over there into a terrorist hijacker. Classic war propaganda. We’re the good, they’re the evil.”
He nodded pensively. “And so we keep the war machine running.”
Night and day.
I’d seen too much suffering on our side to be objective, but I was no longer under any illusions either. The first time I’d had a photo published, I’d been sick with conflict and doubt. We’d been outside Fallujah, and I’d taken a picture of an American soldier carrying a listless child with blood all over his face and legs. Questions had started piling up within me. Was this what we were fighting for? When was it gonna be enough? At what point did we decide that enough innocent lives had been lost? Was there even a way to win? The cost was already steeper than most could comprehend.
I didn’t wanna think about it anymore. I would always remember the first friend who died next to me, the first time I saw an IED go off under a Humvee, the time I got shot in my shoulder, that feeling when Ma had sent a care package, letters from my baby sister, the too-familiar sound of cleaning your rifle, the smell of…
No. I was done. I would always remember, and that was enough.
I’d come to LA to learn how to see beauty instead. My distant dream was to become a documentary filmmaker. I wanted to travel the world and see things that didn’t make me wanna kill myself. I wanted to convince myself that humankind could create remarkable things too.
Hell, humankind didn’t even need to be involved. I wanted to see nature and animals. Something deep inside me yearned for simplicity and the untouched. Our little trip to Big Sur was a great start. I’d never been up there before.
I liked Roe’s idea too. A fuckload, to be honest. He wanted to shoot our video like a pilot, because he literally hoped his “network connection” might want more. All our eggs went into this basket.
The $100 Vagabonds was the working title. We’d each pitched in fifty bucks, which would cover the whole twenty-four-hour trip for two people. Gas, food, an overnight stay.
The one thing I wasn’t entirely comfortable with yet was his hope to put me in front of the camera, as some sort of cohost. I was supposed to be on the other side of the lens, but he’d given me a whole harangue about adding comedy and reeling in viewers. We had to make it interesting for those who didn’t care about Big Sur, he’d said.
*
I groaned as I stretched, feeling every goddamn part of me pop. Jesus Christ. I loved a good road trip, but a seven-hour ride required more than two stops. Unfortunately, we were on the clock here with a lot to do in little time.
It was fucking stunning up here, though. And the air was so fresh.
I took a deep breath and looked out over the impressive cliffs and rock formations. The ocean was the deepest blue shade, the cliffs dark and sharp, and we were surrounded by greenery that was actually green and not yellow.
We’d pulled over at a rest stop that had seen better days. It was just a patch of gravel with enough space for two cars and a couple picnic tables. We hoped the run-down feel of it would keep tourists away, because the other stops we’d passed had been packed with people. The sun was shining, barely any clouds in the sky, and it wasn’t too chilly.
While Roe prepared for our late lunch shoot at one of the tables, I got my camera set up near the end, so we’d both fit in the frame. The lighting was good if we kept the state park in the background as opposed to the ocean. The massive trees blocked some of the sunlight.
I attached my camera on a mount before involving the tripod. It would allow me to turn the camera without any jostling. Roe wanted to give our fictional audience a good view after our intro talk, and I had my own idea for how we could handle that transition.
He’d spent the last two hours on the road giving me a glimpse into his mind, and I had to admit I was liking his idea more and more. With the economy the way it was, it felt like a good show at the right time. Budget travel, just two buddies exploring our country, a bit of comedy, no cutting out the bloopers—not just showing the majestic scenery but the treks in between the tourist spots too.