Matthew Costello - Vacation

Then Christie saw a handmade sign, big block letters dripping, on the side of the road.

APPROACHING DINGMAN’S FALLS. Then in smaller letters. BE PREPARED TO STOP!

Christie spoke quietly. “Did you know that there’d be so many of these stops?”

Jack shook his head. “Nothing in the brochure about them. No big deal.” Then: “Good to know that they’re trying to keep their towns safe.”

“If you say so.”

It was nearly four P.M.

They’d be at the camp soon. Time to wash up. And then sample some of the home-grown food that Paterville offered.

He passed a speed limit sign: 25 MPH. Get cars driving nice and slow through the town.

Just beyond it, a makeshift barrier—a sawhorse with a blinking yellow light at each end.

Jack slowed down.

He leaned over to Christie and whispered.

“God, what is this? Deliverance ?”

But Simon had unplugged and immediately asked, “What’s deliverance ?”

Christie turned to Simon as one of the locals walked up to the car, a big rifle hung over his shoulder.

“A movie about the mountains, honey.” She saw that even Kate had looked up, taking note of the men at the impromptu barrier.

The man by Jack’s window made a rolling motion with his hand.

Christie looked at the other men at the barrier. Five of them, all with rifles. As if expecting an invasion.

Guess they couldn’t get into the volunteer fire department.

“Afternoon, folks.”

The man leaned down to get a good look into the car and Christie got an equally good look at him. Eyes filmy. A little drunk.

Good combination, booze and bullets.

The guy did something weird with his mouth, as if removing a wad of gum that had become lodged in his cheek. Maybe shifting an errant tooth back into position.

“Afternoon,” Jack said.

Two other men had also come closer now. One of the younger guys seemed to have spotted Kate.

The man at the window tried to widen his eyes. “You folks stopping here, at Dingman’s Falls?”

Jack shook his head.

“Just passing through. We’re on our way to the Paterville Family Camp.”

The man looked away from the window.

“Figured that. Though right here in Dingman’s is real nice. Got the falls… nice people. Good town. And it’s clear. Know what I mean?”

“Clear?” Jack said.

“ Nothing gets into town. Not past us. Nothing we don’t want. None of them… Can Heads. Me and the boys—well, you should see some of the trophies we got.”

Christie saw Jack’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Never a good one for hiding his tension.

“Good to hear. Nice and safe town. Great.”

The man nodded. “But I got to tell you. You seem like nice people. So, a bit of advice. Stuff they didn’t tell you when you left the big highway. The towns here, they’re safe. The people make them safe. But in between, like when you leave Dingman’s… and head on to Scooter’s Mill?”

“The next town?”

A nod.

“Don’t stop.”

The man was looking right at Kate as if she was the special of the evening at the local greasy spoon.

“Don’t stop,” he repeated. “Keep your windows up.” Back to Jack. “Eyes on the road. Look out for anything peculiar.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

Jack didn’t sound too sincere.

Perhaps the man picked up on that.

“Paterville, hm? Hear it’s nice. And pricey. Musta set you back a bundle.”

Jack clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel. He’s just about to hit his limit, Christie guessed.

“Yeah. Saved a long time.” A breath. “Look, we’ve been traveling all day.”

The man backed up.

“Sure, sure. You wanna get going. Just remember what I said, hm? You seem like nice folk. Wanna see you coming back this way, next week, whenever your vacation is done.”

“Thanks.”

Some of the other men began to move the sawhorse, opening up a lane and a way past this checkpoint and into the town of Dingman’s Falls.

Once again, the man made a rolling motion with his hand.

Jack hit a button and the window went up as he slowly cruised past the volunteer guards.

Christie watched the town roll by, dotted with people. A lone boy on a bike. Two men outside a shuttered hardware store, talking, taking due notice as Jack drove by.

“Dingman’s Falls,” Jack said to her as they left the town.

“Have to make sure we come back real soon, y’hear?”

“Absolutely. Maybe buy a little vacation condo.”

Christie laughed. “You could join the local border patrol.”

“Get me some trophies .”

But somehow, the last thing Jack said didn’t sound funny.

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.

She turned back to the kids.

“Simon, Kate… almost there.”

Everyone looked out the windows, ready to enter the camp.

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.