Matthew Costello - Vacation

But could they really know, really be sure? As they pulled away, Christie turned around to smile again at the kids.

The big adventure begins!

She looked back to the tall fence with the razor ribbon running along its top as it receded into the distance.

Leaving its protection.

“We’re off,” Jack said.

He almost sounded happy about it.

Christie had to doubt herself. She had pushed this dream of getting away. Was it a good idea? Would it really be giving something to the kids, something that had vanished in this new world?

Did she need it even more than they did?

Once upon a time she had taught high school English in a school not far from Jack’s precinct. But when that sector went red, the school was shuttered. Suddenly there were too many teachers, and not enough students.

Now, like nearly everyone, she homeschooled her kids, and tutored a few neighbor kids in the development. But the neighbors couldn’t pay much, and it never had the excitement, the electric feel of a class of kids engaged in a discussion of Macbeth or Slaughterhouse Five .

Life had contracted.

But she had kept those thoughts to herself.

She reached down and turned on the radio.

Christie kept looking at the streets, so desolate, and thinking that she wanted to get on the highway fast.

It felt exposed here, out in the open. Even though she spotted a few people walking the streets and a scattering of open stores, it didn’t feel safe.

I’ve become so used to where we live, she thought. To… how we live.

The song ended, replaced with news.

Jack raised the radio volume.

“Police Commissioner Edwards again denied reports that some precincts have begun using poison traps against the Can Heads. ‘My office has found no evidence of any use of these so-called poison traps.’ ”

Christie turned and looked back at the kids. Kate read a book. Simon played with some plastic soldiers, making them climb up his seat belt like it was a mountainside.

Christie lowered the volume.

“Is that true?”

Jack looked at her.

“You mean about the poison traps? Leaving bodies of… whatever around, laced with poison for the Can Heads?”

“I mean, in your precinct, do you—”

Jack laughed. “And where are we supposed to get these poisoned bodies from?”

“I don’t know. You’re the police. There are morgues.”

Jack hesitated. She didn’t talk to him about his work much. She could feel him tighten whenever she asked questions, as if the very act of asking the question could take him back there.

He took a breath, and she regretted asking the question.

“Okay. I’ve heard of it. You find someone dead. Some homeless guy, some… nobody. And so they put the body out. Laced with enough deadly zinc phosphate to take out an army of Can Heads.”

He took a glance at the back, the kids tuned out. Then to Christie.

“But I never saw it. Never did it. So, far as I’m concerned, it’s a rumor.”

He stopped at a light.

Christie looked away.

Lights. Stopping at a light could be dangerous.

Lots of people just sailed right through them.

Now they waited at this quiet intersection for the red light to give way to green.

All the while, Christie wishing Jack would just go .

She chewed her lip. The street felt so empty, so quiet.

Did the buildings hide dark, hollow eyes looking out at her?

Did Jack feel it, too… or was that just her imagination?

Even Kate looked up from her book.

The light turned green.

“Almost to the Thruway entrance,” Jack said. “Won’t be long.”

Maybe he had felt it. That fear, waiting at the light.

Somehow that made her feel safer.

He turned the radio volume back up.

“—Latest reports show leading government scientists remain divided. The senate’s panel will continue its hearings for at least two more weeks. The president’s press secretary said the administration remains committed to having a new plan to deal with the decade-long Great Drought as well as reversing the so far unexplained blight that has decimated world-wide food production…”

Jack said, “They still have no damn answers.”

Christie gave him a look for the escaped “damn.” Then she leaned forward and hit one of the radio presets.

“Maybe no news for a while?” Christie said.

Jack nodded and smiled. “No news is… probably good news.”

Christie smiled back.

When she looked forward, she saw the entrance to the New York State Thruway.

Armed guards flanked a single gated entrance to the highway.

A turret stood nearby, with more guards able to get a 360-degree bird’s-eye view of the entrance area.

Jack slowed behind the lone car in front of him.

“Can you get out the papers?” he said.

Christie popped open the glove compartment and brought out a packet. To use any highway, you needed a pass from the Emergency Highway Authority. They had to know where you came from, your destination, how long you would be gone, and a host of other seemingly irrelevant details.

The gate to the highway opened and the car in front pulled away. Jack edged next to the booth as the gate came quickly down again.

Jack knew that Christie had paid all the necessary fees weeks ago, so there should be no problem.

Still, he felt a bit of a chill when the guard, an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder, stepped up to the window.

Odd position for a cop to be in. This slight air of suspicion.

“Hi, folks. How are you doing today?”

Making small talk. A technique. Sometimes Can Heads could look normal, almost act normal. But if you talked to them, if you chatted to a Can Head, you’d know damn fast.

Shit, you could even sense it—or even smell it on them, on their clothes, on their breath. You’d see a stray red dollop marking their shirt.

“Going on a vacation, eh?” The guard flipped through the papers.

“Yes,” Christie said, smiling. The guard had lowered his head to get a good look inside. “Our first with the kids. We’re going to the Paterville Family Camp. In the mountains.”

The guard nodded, now looking right at Jack. “I hear it’s nice up there.”

Jack had trouble engaging in the chitchat, this little routine the highway cop had.

Could flash my badge, Jack thought.

Cut this short.

“Have there been any reports?” Jack said. “Any trouble, on the way up?”

The guard laughed as if it was a silly question.

“No. Nothing for weeks. Been real quiet. I think we got them on the run. In this state, at least. And you got a good steel-mesh fence, electrified all the way up there. I wouldn’t worry.”

The guard scanned the back of the Explorer, checking out the children.

“You have a nice vacation,” the guard said, backing away.

He went back to his booth and opened the gate. The two guards to the side, rifles at a 45-degree angle, watched the operation carefully. The gate moved up slowly. Then Jack gave the guard a nod, and pulled onto the entrance ramp.

They were on the Thruway.

Heading north, to the mountains. Their vacation had, Jack felt, really begun.

Simon looked out the window. His parents sat so quietly. Usually they talked.

But now—just sitting so quiet.

He turned to look over to his sister. She had her nose in her book. That’s what Mom always said, You always have your nose in a book.

Simon didn’t like to read. Mom tried, and the more she tried the more he hated it.