But already the shared sips of alcohol had lost their zing. Too many questions.
“Now, I just hand out what passes for food these days.” Tom said, closing the door on that part of the conversation.
It was something that Jack would like to get back to.
“And you—what’s your line of work?”
Jack took another sip. Almost done, and he didn’t think he wanted a refill.
“I’m a cop.”
“Really? Wow. Could have fooled me. I mean, you don’t
And was that comment supposed to be a compliment?
People got funny around cops.
“I’m on vacation. On the down-low, as the kids say.”
Tom took a breath. “And how is it out there? On the streets. Getting worse?”
Jack looked away. “Worse? Not getting better. Looks to me … like it’s spreading.”
“Shit.”
“Each day, new blocks. Gone. More Can Heads. No new cops.”
“You know, there was a theory one of the guys in my lab had. That this was how the dinosaurs ended. Feeding off each other. That’s what really wiped them out.”
“Really? I could believe it. When you see humans hovering over a body, slicing it into pieces like crazy butchers, bundling the goddamned meat up like—”
Jack suddenly realized that he had gone too deep into the hole. The hole of being a cop. Fighting them.
“Sorry. Get carried away, you know. That’s what’s good about being here. Shake all that shit off. Get away from all that ‘beware your neighbor’ paranoia.”
“Except not one who has some booze, hm? And this is a good place, Jack. Lot of guards. The gorgeous lake. Enough food. Not a bad place at all.” Then: “Glad you guys are our neighbors.”
He clinked his glass against Jack’s.
“And you’re staying a few more days, right?”
“Yeah. No one wants to leave. What the hell do we head back to? No real family for us. Least not around New York. The family would love to just stay here forever.”
“You and a lot of people, I guess.”
Tom again reached down for the milk bottle filled with the clear liquid.
“Refill?”
Jack was about to say no thanks. Instead, he held out his cup and watched Tom pour.
* * *
The cabin was quiet.
Kate and Simon in bed. Windows wide open so a cool breeze blew in. The occasional sounds from the woods.
Christie sniffed, taking in the strong smell of alcohol on Jack’s breath, and smiled when he said, “You wouldn’t have liked it.”
Now he lay in the bed, the background noise in his ears, Christie close, her back to him.
Not feeling sleepy.
Not at all.
He inched a bit closer so that his body pressed against hers.
He put an arm around her and with the precision borne of years together, his hand smoothly cupped her right breast.
He felt himself stir against her. Always a good feeling.
But then Christie turned to him.
“Want some sugar, hm?”
Her face caught the scant light of the room. No moon outside, but the glow from the lights on the paths filtered into the room a bit, outlining her face.
“Could be.”
“Maybe that leggy assistant got you going?”
“No, not at all,” Jack said, realizing how quickly he said it.
Realizing that he hadn’t told Christie about his encounter with her in the parking lot.
Then: “The kids. They’re right there. Not sure they’re asleep.”
“I can be quiet,” he said.
He could make out a smile. “But can I? I think we should wait. When they’re both out for some activity here or something. Okay?”
When Jack didn’t say anything it seemed like a bit more distance between them. Maybe something he hoped being here would change.
He felt Christie reach down and wrap her hand around him.
“Save that big boy for later. All right?”
“He hates waiting.”
“I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”
Christie turned over, her back once again to Jack.
He followed suit, turning away and waiting for sleep to come.
* * *
Except sleep didn’t come.
Had to be a good hour later, and still he felt awake. Maybe the uncommon feeling of a little alcohol buzz was keeping him up?
Maybe … something else.
He lay on his back. He could hear Christie—always such a deep sleeper—as she took in each measured breath.
Deeply asleep.
The noise from outside didn’t help either. For a guy from Brooklyn, that was a lot of nature out there. He wished he had ear plugs.
He sat up.
Pointless to just lie there.
Especially when his mind went over the past. His partner, the trap, his wounds.
Maybe a bit of a walk. Some of that cool mountain air.
He slid to the side of the bed, his boat shoes only a few feet away. Shorts and T-shirt idly tossed on a chair in the room.
He snatched them up and then slipped into his shoes.
He walked out to the living room and into the night.
For a moment, he stood on the porch, looking at the camp. All the cabins nice and quiet. No more sounds of singing coming from the lake to compete with the cicadas.
In the moonless night, he could just about see the outline of the mountains that circled the lake.
He took a breath.
Fifteen. Twenty minutes of walking.
Then another try for sleep.
He walked off his porch.
21
The Service Road
Though the day had been hot, the night quickly turned chilly.
