Trophies. What the hell kind of trophies would they have?
Outside the town, things turned even more surreal. Motel cabins with holes in the roofs, paint flaking off in giant clumps, the color barely holding on, doors smashed in.
Lots of bears on the signs. The Sportsmen’s Lodge. The Nite Owl. The Emerald Inn. All those happy bears on the decrepit signs.
The area looked as if it had been hit by bombs, turned into a war zone.
Christie stole a quick glance at the kids, sitting in the back, barely taking notice.
Then to Jack. She had asked to drive. But he kept saying he was fine. A typical male.
No, I can do it. I can handle it.
Eight, nine hours of driving.
He had to be tired.
They rolled past more desolation. A neon martini glass that would never again glow an iridescent blue. Carved wooden deer with their limbs chopped off, probably for firewood.
Then just as quickly, another town, another barrier.
If nothing else, now they were closer.
Soon, the road trip would be done. They could get out of the car.
They could actually begin their vacation.
They had begun climbing now as well, winding past dry stream beds that had no sparkling water rippling over the rocks.
The road then began weaving between smaller mountains, and soon some of the high Adirondack peaks were no longer so far away.
Massive, ancient sentinels of stone, eerie with both dead and live trees encircling them.
She said to Jack: “It’s beautiful here.”
“It is. I almost thought—”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Almost thought places like this had vanished.”
She didn’t respond to that.
Christie saw an area to pull off the road and park. A sign indicated a trail leading up to one of the nearby mountains. Once probably filled with day hikers.
Now the trail had to be empty. The trail deserted. Nobody would do that these days.
“Here we go,” Jack said. “Up ahead.”
She turned back to the front.
And saw the sign.
PATERVILLE FAMILY CAMP
3 MILES
She turned back to the kids.
“Simon, Kate … almost there.”
Everyone looked out the windows, ready to enter the camp.
welcome to paterville camp
16
Greetings
Jack turned onto the small dirt road to the right that led to the camp.
More signs.
WELCOME!
And—
GUESTS—PLEASE PROCEED TO THE WELCOME CENTER JUST AHEAD.
Then, in case anyone forgot why they were here …
PATERVILLE FAMILY CAMP—WHERE FAMILIES CAN BE FAMILIES!
The two-lane dirt road was well-maintained, no big ruts or boulders. Any brush at the sides was cut well back.
“I’m excited,” Christie said.
“Me, too,” Jack said.
He was getting good at saying things he didn’t quite believe.
If only I could ease the hell up.
What happened at the rest stop could have happened anywhere.
That’s what he told himself.
Then, through the thick stands of pine and dead deciduous trees, Jack saw the outer fence of the camp.
No small fence either. Twelve feet, maybe more. Certainly bigger than the one that girded their complex at home. And two turrets, looking less forbidding than those on the highway, painted a dark cocoa brown with a dark pine green roof.
More like little elf cottages than security turrets.
Did they color-coordinate the nice people with their guns inside the elf cottages?
Jack imagined that by now their arrival had been picked up by the camp’s cameras and whatever motion-detection systems it had in place. Maybe a license check had already been run.
The turret elves reporting their progress.
“Is this it?” Simon said, leaning forward.
The road curved to the right, then the left.
A sign indicated a speed bump, then another, in the traditional Adirondack colors of brown and green. PREPARE TO SLOW DOWN.
Jack eased off the gas.
“Wow,” Simon said.
Wow at what? Jack wondered. The giant fence, the elf turrets, the big sign where log chunks spelled out PATERVILLE FAMILY CAMP, with deer antlers on either side?
Antlers? Don’t tell me they have deer here.
Weren’t deer a thing of the past?
Probably extinct.
A gate opened and, passing the fence, Jack saw a smiling man waiting inside a small booth meters ahead. Only a small candy-cane-striped barrier blocked their way.
Jack stopped the car.
The man’s grin broadened as he walked over.
The gate closed behind Jack.
He glanced back quickly at that.
“Go on,” Christie said. “Say ‘hi.’ Find out where we’re supposed to go.”
Right, Jack thought.
The gate forgotten, he opened his window.
“Welcome to Paterville Camp, folks. And you must be … the Murphy family?”
The man radiated his smile evenly over the four of them in the car. Jack smiled back. “That would be us.”
“Great. We’ve been expecting you. Now”—the man leaned close with some papers in his hand—“here’s your car tag. Just put that on the dash. And your cabin number. And a map of the Paterville grounds. Your cabin’s right here.”
“Where’s the lake?” Simon blurted.
“Oh, real close. You kids are gonna love it. You need to check in at the Great Lodge to get your keys, arrange credit. And that”—his smile broadened—“is about it.”
“Thanks,” Jack said.
The man made a small nod and backed away.
“You folks enjoy your stay.”
The small candy-striped wooden barrier rose, and Jack pulled away.
* * *
“Look! There it is! The lake—just like in the picture!”
Simon announced each discovery as they drove deeper into the grounds.
Ahead, a cluster of rustic cottages, then to the left a small hill led down to a beautiful lake, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Behind it, mountains, like guards circling the lake.
And not only that, he saw other families. Kids walking around, others sitting on the beach by the lake. Like an image from a past that had long ago vanished.
Amazing, he thought. That such a place could exist.
He came to a circle near the main building, the Great Lodge. In front, parking spaces under a protective overhang, all done in that mix of dark brown timbers and green roofing.
He pulled into a space and killed the engine. “I’ll go check in.”
“I wanna come,” Simon said.
“I don’t want to just sit here,” Kate said.
“Guess we all go,” Christie said. “Let the adventure begin!”
They got out of their car and walked into the lodge.
The Great Lodge’s lobby ceiling rose up to a second story. Massive murals of all the animals that once filled this area covered the walls. Guests sat in oversized leather chairs, talking, some reading by lamps with bases made from twisted branches.
To the left, Jack saw the dining hall, its twin doors closed. To the right, a gift store. A registration desk ahead and a corridor past it with a sign that indicated TO ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES.
One of the women at the desk, dressed casually in a crisp tan shirt with a red kerchief at her neck, looked up and smiled. Jack came forward.
“Hi, I’m—”
But before he got the words out, a short, barrel-chested man with a neatly trimmed mustache came from the nearby corridor.
He was talking to a woman easily a foot taller than him. Dark hair down to her shoulders. A gingham shirt tied at the waist, showing a slice of her midsectio
n. Cutoffs. And in that quick glimpse, legs that went on forever.
Hard not to stare.
The man stopped talking as soon as he saw Jack and his family.
“And then we need— Oh. Hey! Hel-lo!” He looked around at Jack and his family. “The Murphys, right?”
Guess they were expecting us, Jack thought.
“Yes.”
“Great! Welcome to the Paterville Family Camp!”
The man walked over to them.
“I’m Ed Lowe, camp director and the founder of Paterville.”
Jack introduced Christie and the kids, who all shook the man’s hand.
Ed seemed to focus on the kids. “You kids are going have so much fun here. So much to do.” His eyes went from Simon to Kate. “No matter how old you are.” Then to Christie. “And I guarantee some great downtime for the parents. Grown-ups love it as much as the kids.”
It was as if the guy was still selling the camp. But his good humor had planted smiles on Christie’s and the kids’ faces.
“Here you go, Mr. Murphy,” the woman behind the desk said. “Your keys. One for each of you. Opens your cabin. They’re also your camp IDs, so hold onto them.”
The way she said that stuck for a moment. Hold onto them.
Looked like despite all the smiles and handshakes, they took their security seriously here.
Jack took the keys. As he did, he noticed the woman standing near Ed watching him.
He had to force himself not to look back.
As if sensing Jack’s balancing act, Ed turned to the woman, “Shana, why don’t you bring the Murphys’ luggage over to their cabin?”
“I can do—” Jack started.
“No. Don’t worry. Shana is our jill-of-all-trades here. It’s a quiet day—and while she gets your stuff, I can give you folks a quick tour.”
Shana came close to Jack. He picked up a whiff of exotic perfume on her. Just a hint. Something you might only smell if you got real close.
Jack felt Christie’s eyes on him.
“Car open?” Shana said. “Luggage in the trunk?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “But I—”
“No problemo,” Shana said slowly.
Jack handed her the keys.
She started walking away.
Ed moved close. “Now for that tour, hm?”
All eyes seemed to be on their tour director.
But Jack stole a quick glance at Shana as she walked away.
She was looking right back at him.
* * *
Standing by the lake, Ed looked up to the sky.
“Hm, it was sunny just minutes ago. Looks like a few clouds slipped over those mountains. Weather can change mighty quickly here.”
Jack held Christie’s hand.
“I love it,” she said.
“The lake? Yeah. Our prize, to be sure. Beautiful, clear water. You can even drink it. And back there—”
He turned around and pointed at the lifeguard stand.
“—always a lifeguard on duty from nine to sunset.” To the kids. “No swimming before or after that.”
Jack noticed Kate shielding her eyes.
As she checked out the lifeguard.
Time does fly, Jack thought. Something he might need to keep a watch on here.
Ed turned back to them. “Water’s cold, though. Fed by those mountains. But on a hot day, it just doesn’t get any better.” Then, a step closer to Jack, his voice lower: “Same water feeds our wells and underground streams. It’s why we can grow things.”
“You’ve had no blight? I saw the trees—”
“Oh, some things won’t grow, for sure. But I guess we’re isolated enough that a lot of crops still grow here just fine. For now.”
“Good.”
Ed slapped his hands together. “On with the tour. This way!”
* * *
“Down there, got our big playing field. Lot of fun family games, softball, old-fashioned things like sack races. And to the right, a game room—”
“With video games?” Simon asked. “Really?”
“You bet. Oldies but goodies. And Ping-Pong, pool, even that football game, you know, with—”
“Foosball,” Jack added.
“Yes, foosball. Now, past there, we have the nature trails. Nothing too big since we need to keep everything and everyone well within the camp’s confines. Still, good safe places for a little walk or to explore.”
Ed turned around and started walking back to the main lodge.
But Jack had noticed a road up on a hill, past the parking area, nearly hidden by the trees.
“What’s over there? By the cars. That road?”
Ed barely tossed a glance back. “Our service road. Maintenance buildings. Laundry. Storage. Landscaping and so on. Nothing fun.”
Ed pointed ahead.
“You’ve seen the Great Lodge. We all eat together in the big dining hall. Sometimes there are special announcements, sometimes we play some games. Like I said, good food and good fun—and good people.”
Already, Jack thought, the dark streets of Red Hook were starting to look better.
As beautiful as it all was, this was alien terrain for him. And they were caged in.
With this much-too-jolly Ed Lowe as the keeper.
Still, Christie seemed wide-eyed at it. The kids looked like they loved it.
And Jack kept thinking of Ed’s assistant. Shana.
Funny how guys work, he thought.
Probably never see her again.
I’m only human. And male.
“Okay, let’s see your digs. Cabin seven. Great view from there. Come on!”
* * *
“If I may…” Ed took the key from Christie.
He opened the door and they walked in.
The cabin was a picture from a hundred years ago. Homemade furniture, a woven rug, a 1950s-style Formica kitchen table. Small hallway leading to bedrooms.
“No TV at all?” Kate asked.
“Sorry, miss. No stations operating anywhere near us. Get some radio, shortwave and all.”
“And no phones?” Christie asked.
As in: how isolated are we?
“Well, the workers here like to joke that if we get a good wind off Mt. Hope you can always yell.”
Ed laughed.
What a card.
“And truth is, Mrs. Murphy, we’re kind of self-contained here. Can’t say phones would be of much use.”
Jack noticed that Kate stood there, scanning the rustic cottage, the lake, the woods—all so unfamiliar to her.
Should be an interesting week.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you folks settle in. Unpack.” Ed looked at his watch. “Whoa, dinner in two hours. Maybe time for a quick swim, eh?”
“Good idea, and thanks.”
Ed started out.
Jack turned to Christie, and then with a slight tilt of his head he followed Ed out, catching up a few steps behind him.
“Ed—one more thing.”
“Yes? What’s that?”
Jack looked around. From this area just outside the cabin, he had a good view of much of the camp, from the lake area to the Great Lodge and all the way to the playing fields.
Even a peek at the service road.
“Just got a question. Didn’t want the kids to hear. I mean…” Jack looked Ed right in the eyes. “Ever have any problems here?”
“Problems? You mean, like the septic backing up?”
Another joke, but Jack didn’t smile this time.
“No. With what’s outside the fences. With the Can Heads.”
Ed nodded. “Jack, something happen to you folks on the way here?”
“At a rest stop. A break-in. One Can Head. I took care of it.”
“That’s what you do back home, right? Being a cop and all?”
“Yeah. And I was hoping to get away from that. Which is why I asked.”
“You’ve seen a lot, hm?”
Jack paused before answering.
“Enough.”
“Listen, Jack, Paterville has amazing security. Since you’re a police officer, you’ve probably noticed it. And that’s only what you can see. The fence is fully electric, and the turrets see everything. We got other things all around—motion detectors at the perimeter, cameras checking the woods outside.”
“I imagine you do.”
“And yes, they’re out there. But that’s where they will stay. So, I hope you can forget that stuff that you’ve dealt with in the city. You and your family can have a real good time here, Jack.” Ed put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You just got to relax and enjoy yourself. We’ve thought of everything.”
Jack nodded.
Then, over Ed’s shoulder, halfway to the lodge, he saw Shana watching them. The camp director seemed to notice as well.
“Hey, gotta dash. See you at dinner.”
“Sure.”
Jack went back inside the cottage.
17
Tom and Sharon
Christie wriggled her toes in the sand. Not quite the beach sand of her childhood summers at the Jersey shore. Grittier, coarser.
But still, after everything—wonderful.
She looked over at Jack.
“You look like the lifeguard.”
“Hmm?”
They both sat on the sand, not caring that it would stick to their pants. It felt so good to be here.
“The way you—I don’t know—scan the waterfront. No, I got it. You’re the sheriff in Jaws.”
He laughed. A good sound.
“Gonna need a bigger boat.”
Christie pointed at a scattering of rowboats and canoes over by the dock to the right of the swimming area.
“That’s as big as they get here, I’m afraid.” A beat. Then, more seriously: “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. Sure.”
The sun was slipping behind the mountains. Dusk would come early. The lake captured the last hour of golden sunlight, the water sparkling as if alive with lights. Squealing kids of all ages ran in and out of the icy lake water.
It was cold—Christie had confirmed that.
Simon had been brave, running into the water, then spinning around when fully wet and running out again. It may have been the biggest smile she had ever seen on him.
And that felt good.
And Kate?
Kate went in just up to her calves. She wore a striped one-piece, though she had pleaded to get a bikini. Christie vetoed that.
Vacation Page 8
