Matthew Costello - Vacation

“Looks like they keep you working hard.”

She smiled, her eyes directly on Jack.

“I like the exercise,” she said. “And besides, I live in back here. It’s one of the woodworking cottages. We make a lot of our own stuff… use the wood that’s all around us. The dead trees.”

“Looks like you’re good at it.”

“I’m good at a lot of things.”

Again, her eyes didn’t waver. Where was that breeze now?

She had placed the ax head on the ground, the handle held close to her side. Then she made the handle end jut out. “Care to take a whack?”

“I don’t think I could—”

She took a step, lifting the ax, handing it to Jack.

“Go on. It’s very therapeutic.”

She stood closer now, the beads of sweat so close.

Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder. The game building effectively blocked anyone from seeing the two of them. Secluded back here.

“Okay. Here goes.”

Shana effortlessly put a fresh block of wood on the tree stump used as a platform for the wood splitting.

He brought the ax back.

“Nice smooth swing, city boy. Keep your eye on where you want the blade to hit. And once it’s in motion… just let it go.”

Jack took a breath. He felt her watching him. But he kept his eyes on the wood chunk in front of him.

Then another breath—and he swung.

Eyes locked on his target spot.

It didn’t land smoothly in the middle of the piece. It was an awkward swing, nothing like Shana’s.

But Jack was glad to see that the force of the hit was enough to split the wood, sending two unequal pieces flying to either side.

Shana clapped once, then again. “Well done. For a city boy. Little bit of training, and you could be useful around here.”

Jack smiled.

He should get back. Christie would have questions about his encounter with Kate.

But Jack had questions. About this place. About Shana.

A few more minutes back here wouldn’t hurt.

Jack peered in the window of the front workshop part of the cabin, the windows filmy, making most of what was inside a blur. He could make out a huge saw with planks of wood lying before it.

He turned back to Shana. She had come close, invading space that some would describe as private, a distance being violated.

“So, where’d they recruit you from?” he asked.

A smile. “Recruit? That’s what the U.S. Army did. They recruited me.”

“You served?”

“Oh yeah. Until they started taking the army apart piece by piece. Who has time to save the world when there’s so much to do at home, hm?”

Jack nodded, and as he did, he moved back.

“So, you got a job here? At a camp?”

Shana shook her head as if the idea was silly, black strands flying. “I’m from near here. A little town—a village called Two Rivers. A few miles away, on the other side of Mt. Hope. Nothing there now.”

“A local?”

“Everyone who works here is local, Jack.”

She said his name as if they were old friends. “Well, nearly everyone. When Ed decided to set this place up, he offered jobs and sanctuary to the locals. Some came in to clean, to cook”—a gesture at the filmy windows of the workshop—“to build. A way to be safe.”

“They all live here?”

“There are cottages up on the hill, near the camp shops and storehouses. A little community, you might say.”

“Some didn’t come?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that work out?”

“Oh, a few retreated to the bigger towns. You probably saw them on your way here. With their checkpoints and guns. Some didn’t make it. Like those people who stay when a volcano is going to blow. Some vanished. Some, I imagine”—she smiled at the full-circle joke of it—“were recruited . Some of the Can Heads in the hills around here used to be our neighbors, friends… lovers. Now they just look for a way to get in.”

“Not easy with all the guards I saw.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Guards? You mean at the gates?”

Jack registered the word she just said. Gates. More than one way in and out of this place. For trucks, workers.

Maybe over by the worker’s part of the camp, at the end of the service road?

“Yeah, at night you guys have this place locked down. Guards everywhere.”

Shana hesitated. “We like to be safe. And you, Jack? What does a Jack Murphy do? Besides split wood badly.”

Another step closer by her; he had the feeling that he was being cornered.

He thought of lying.

“I’m a cop.”

She paused now. A small smile played on her face. Had she known that? Did Lowe tell her? Was that exciting to her?

Every cop knew that some women found the whole police thing a turn-on.

Jack tuned that stuff out.

Finally: “NYPD?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve seen things, haven’t you. I’d love to hear all about what you’ve seen, Jack. That is, if it’s not too upsetting for you.”

Jack grinned. Exit time, and an exit line. “Not upsetting at all. But ’fraid I have to dash back to the beach. Can’t be missing in action for too long.”

“Sure. We can catch up later, city boy.”

“Right.”

Jack turned and started walking away. Feeling the heat of Shana’s eyes on him as he strolled away.

As he reached the beach, he saw Kate on a floating dock out in the water, jumping in.

Christie stood up when he came.

“Pretty good,” he said, pointing to their daughter.

“You should have heard her before. Not too pleased with your game room drop-in.”

“I know.” Then: “Better she’s down here. The sun, water. That’s what we came for. And is Simon still…?”

“Still playing sand crab. Maybe you can.”

“Sure. I’ll see if he’ll go in with me. Enough sand digging.”

“Where were you, by the way?”

Jack kept his gaze on the water. He watched Kate smoothly pull herself out of the water and back into diving position on the platform.

“Oh, I saw another building behind the game room. Didn’t know what it was.”

“And of course you have to know what everything is.”

“It was a woodworking shop. Looks like they build a lot of their own stuff. The lamps, those tree-limb chairs.”

He wondered if being a cop made him a good liar, made him good at not telling things…

Or just the opposite.

He let the moment pass and turned to her. “Time to hit the water.”

He walked over to Simon.

At first, he held his son’s hand in the water. Incredible that they had water here to swim in. Fresh water, like so many things, so scarce. But Simon soon let go as the tiniest of waves rippled against their ankles.

“It’s cold !” Simon said.

“Sure is. But feel that sun. Gonna feel mighty good to get wet.”

To show the way, Jack took a few steps farther in. He looked again at the dive platform, Kate going in and out. As if putting on a show.

A show for…?

He looked behind to see the lifeguard chair. The blond kid staring out at the lake glistening under a midday sun.

Simon squealed. But he also grinned.

“There you go, Simon. Not too bad, eh?”

“It’s freezing!”

“But notice that your feet feel fine. You get used to it. Look at your sister.”

More steps, and more squeals. The process torturous, but fun. Jack for the first time feeling a bit of what they came here for. To get away, to escape things, to simply enjoy his family.

Simon hit the upper-chest mark well ahead of him.

And then, amazingly, Simon dove into the water and emerged like a human otter, black hair plastered against his head, his eyes flashing.