Jack rubbed his arms as he stepped outside, holding the porch door behind him so he could close it gently.
He took a breath of the sweet mountain air with just a hint of pine. Another breath. Another smell. Perhaps the decaying mulch of last summer’s leaves and needles sitting on the forest floor.
He started down the path that led away from the cottages and the center of the camp.
It wasn’t long before he saw somebody.
A man standing near a curved lamppost, the light low, just barely enough to illuminate a spot where three intersecting paths met.
The light caught the man’s collared shirt, pants—and the recognizable shape of a gun holstered to his side.
Jack kept walking.
When he got closer, the guard said, “Evening, sir.”
Jack kept walking.
“Evening.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
The man seemed to stiffen a bit. Perhaps late-night walkers weren’t that common at Paterville. The camp quiet, save for the cicadas chattering in the background.
“No thanks. Just getting some air.”
The guard nodded as Jack came abreast of him.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Just be careful. Dark spots on the walkways. You could trip.”
Jack stopped. “Sure. Will do.”
“And sir, of course, stay away from the perimeter. The fence.”
Jack smiled at that one. Did anyone need reminding not to wander over there?
“Oh, I will.” Jack looked at the path leading toward the Great Lodge.
“See you.”
“Night, sir.”
Jack continued.
He came upon two more guards. Now he was curious.
The first guard stood at the entrance area of the lodge. Not so strange. Jack avoided talking to him and walked well past him to the right, a direction that led out to the playing fields and the game room.
Guard number three stood near the back of the lodge.
This one smoking a cigarette, which he threw to the ground as Jack approached.
The guard coughed.
His voice seemed a bit slurred. Maybe he’d just had a hit of the cook’s home brew?
“Lost, sir? The cottages—”
That word came out a bit wrong.
“—are back that way.”
“No. I’m fine. Can’t sleep. Walking around.”
As if the guard hadn’t heard him, he gestured behind Jack. “They’re back that way.”
Jack nodded. “Thanks.”
He turned around, headed back to the front of the lodge.
When he got there, the guard at the front was talking quietly on what had to be a walkie-talkie.
The guard gave him a quick look, and went on talking.
Jack sailed past the Great Lodge entrance and then passed the trail leading back to the cabins. Instead, he started heading down the winding trail to the parking lot.
He didn’t understand that. Sure, a guard by the gates, the fence. Armed and dangerous. Yeah, that all made sense. Here, though, all around the property? Seemed like overkill.
A few yards down the path to the parking area, he heard a voice.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you need—”
“No. Need to check something in my car.”
This time Jack didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. All the watching and monitoring made him feel penned in.
He kept walking, picking up speed. More guards ahead? he wondered. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.
The parking lot seemed almost intentionally poorly lit. The two scrawny yellow lights left most of the cars in darkness.
He could find his easily enough.
Except he wasn’t really going to his car.
Instead, he walked to the back of the lot. To the service road.
And through the trees, twinkling like stars hanging too low in the sky, lights.
Jack moved into the sea of dark cars. He’d probably be as invisible here as the cars were.
He moved slowly through the lot.
He stopped by the service road entrance. Even without any real light here, he could see a sign with large painted letters:
SERVICE ROAD—PATERVILLE CAMP EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Jack walked past the sign.
The dirt road curved up, rutted with big stones that, in the pitch black, made him lose footing, his ankle slipping left and right. One twist sent a spike of pain into his injured right leg.
Not what the doctor recommended, he thought.
But the lights ahead resolved from twinkling stars to big bright lights. Lots of lights.
Then, as he walked up, sounds. Voices talking in the darkness. Employees blowing off some steam?
Until he could make out through the wall of trees a large building. A steady stream of white smoke snaked its way from the roof into the crystal clear night sky.
Must be where they prepared the food.
The voices louder. Laughs. The sound of someone giving an order.
Pretty busy considering how late it was.
The road’s angle grew steeper. This service area actually sat on a hill above the main camp.
From up there, you could probably see the whole camp.
He took a deep breath, the effort of the climb made harder by now-steady pain from his leg.
Soon, he’d be on level ground, at this camp within the camp.
“You can stop right there.”
