Shaker and Rock

Charlie Jansen could feel the cold breeze and spray of salt water splashing up against his face. Through the dense ocean fog he could see the transport boat that was carrying his buddy Aaron. They had grown up together; gone to school together; even went to basic training for the Coast Guard together, and now they were going to be stationed together on the rock, Tatoosh Island. Charlie had arrived a week earlier, and now Aaron was pulling up to the dock. Charlie could see that his lifelong friend had been making his usual amount of friends, in the short ride from Neah Bay, out to the island. One of the deck crew was roughly throwing his duffel bag onto the dock. It looked like he would have liked to throw Aaron out onto the dock, as well.

Over the crash of the waves, Charlie couldn't hear Aaron, but he could see his mouth moving while the men working on the boat rolled their eyes and turned away. Then Aaron looked up to see Charlie on the rail above and waved animatedly. Aaron's bags, and other supplies for the island were loaded in a large metal basket and brought up to the top of the cliff by enormous galvanized hoist. Aaron started up the ladder talking well before he was close enough for Charlie to hear. Charlie knew it didn't matter, Aaron would repeat everything he had said several times. It was his way

"Oh man, this rock is desolate," said Aaron.

"Get used to it, you're going to be here for a while," said Charlie.

"You said there were trees."

"There are. See, there's one over there and one over there."

"Oh man, those aren't trees, those are weeds. I mean being from the Northwest aren't you supposed to know what trees look like? Trees are big things."

"Oh, those kinds of trees? You are going to have to look over to the mainland for those," Said Charlie said while he pointed southeast, over the bluff.

"Well, at least the view is nice from this hockey puck of an island."  Aaron looked around sadly.  "I guess there aren't any girls here either, are there?"

"Not a one."

Aaron reached over the side of the giant metal basket that carried the duffle bag that was his luggage and said, “Well, are you doing to show me around this landfill?"

The men started up the gentle basalt slope toward the light house and research buildings.

"Holy crap, am I seeing what I am seeing?" Aaron said, pointing. From the top of the rise, the men looked down towards the buildings. Moving along a wall and then disappearing around one corner of the building, was a Jack Russell Terrier. With a hopping style of walk, the dog was tipped up on its front two paws, with its rear end up in the air.

"Be quiet, Man."

"What are you talking about man, did you see it, or did you see it."

"Yeah, I saw it, but shut up."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you later. Just shut up."

"Fine," Aaron said, looking puzzled and annoyed.

The men walked down toward the buildings. There was a lean, tan, gray-haired man sitting on a bench, next to the door. As they approached the man looked Aaron up and down. It didn't look like he approved, or disapproved of what he saw. He also didn't look like he was very interested.

"Hey Derek, this is my buddy Aaron that I told you about. Derek Jansen, meet Aaron Blaine.  Aaron, Derek."

"Hi, Derek, it's good to meet you," said Aaron.

"Yup," Derek said. "I can already tell you were right about him, Charlie."

"I often am, Derek," Charlie said, and then putting his hand on Aaron's shoulder, he said, "Follow me Buddy, I'll show you where you’re bunking down."

Charlie pushed open the door and walked in. The room had that tight, musty, sealed-in smell that is usually reserved for junior prisons and junior high buildings. The light that filtered in through the dirty windows did nothing to brighten the heavily painted cement and cinderblock interior.

"So what did you tell Derek about me?"

"I told him you would get on his nerves pretty quick."

"Well thanks a lot, Pal.”

"I was right. That is Derek's dog, and that dog is the only thing he cares about. Don't get me wrong, he is a good guy. He'll treat you better than you deserve, but I'm pretty sure he won't get attached to you. Eric doesn't attached to anyone or anything, except that dog."

"What are you talking about?"

"How old do you think Derek is?"

"About 45?"

"Not even close, Buddy.  Try two decades younger."

"No shit, what happened?”

"Derek has seen a whole lot of hard, in his lifetime. He used to run an auto shop. Owned it, actually. They say he's some kind of genius with a wrench. I don't doubt it.  I've seen him fix everything there is around here in just the one week that I've been here. He got a shop running and open for business before he even turned 18. He got his girlfriend pregnant they got married and had a kid. Heck, they may even have done it in the proper order. Then I guess when the kid was about four, the neighbors pit bull got into the yard and attacked him. That dog broke them up and tore him up pretty bad. It probably would've killed him if it hadn't been for that two legged wonder you saw a few minutes ago. That little Jack Russell was about six months old and it took on that pit bull. Shaker over there, kept that big dog busy until the neighbor on the other side took out the pit bull with his 30-06 rifle.

That poor little kid lasted three weeks. One of his lungs had been punctured, and they couldn't get the infection under control. Derek's wife killed herself with a bottle of vodka and a handful of painkillers a week later.

I guess Derek kept trying to work in the shop, but not long after the accident, he turned the business, house, and everything he owned over to his brother. One day, he climbed into his truck with his dog and headed north leaving Eugene, Oregon behind. Some friend of the family got him the job as the caretaker of this rock, and he's been here for the last two years. He isn't actually an employee of the Coast Guard, or NOAA, he works for the local Indian tribe. Apparently this island belongs to them with an indefinite lease to the US government."

"Damn, how do you live through something like that? I mean, damn! What would you even say to a guy like that?"

"For Christ's sake, don't say anything. If you ever thought there might be a time in your life to shut up, this would be it. Don't ask him about it at all.  If you just go on with your work, and keep your mouth closed, he will talk a little bit. I got the story from Steely."

"Who's Steely?"

“Luke Steele, he's one of the weather guys. He's pretty cool, not quite as dirty as the rest of them.  If you don't get on his nerves, take a salmon fishing. The guy is a fanatic."

"All right, why does that dog walk on its front feet?"

"Broken back."

"That pitbull got him?"

"No, that happened here. Some asshole from one of the local fishing tenders, got tangled up in one of the tsunami warning buoys. He tore up some of his equipment on it, and was pissed off. He broke it loose and brought it here wanting to yell at somebody. I don't know if he is going to do any really hard jail time, but the Feds don't like it when you mess with their equipment. Well, he pulled up to the dock and rolled that 200 pound float off the side of his boat and clipped little Shaker. I guess for a while, Shaker was paralyzed from the middle of his back on down. Derek took care of that little dog, twenty-four seven. At first he would just drag himself around by his front feet, then one day he realized he could get around a lot better, and a lot faster if he just walked on his front feet. It's funny, his back has healed up a bit, so we can walk on all fours again, but most of the time he just tips it up on the front two anyway. You should see that little bastard go up and down stairs." 

"No shit?"

"No shit."