Vacation

“I’ve looked around. Fence looks secure. Lots of armed guards.”

“Seen the cameras?”

“Hm?”

“They’re in the trees. All over the camp. I just happened to spot one. Then I saw others. Way up.”

That was something Jack should have spotted.

“Guess they’re useful.”

Another swig for Tom. When he extended the bottle again, Jack took it. Changing his mind, and wanting that burn.

“Sure. They take their security seriously here.”

“Looks that way.”

Each took another swig.

A few silent moments.

“Come on,” Tom said. “Let’s get this show started.”

And then a single rocketing yellow-white streak flew into the sky and exploded into a dazzling explosion of sparks.

The crowd cheered.

*   *   *

Jay Fergus came to his turnaround point, just in time to see another guard, Jackie Weeks, hitting his. A casual wave in the shadows, as they both turned and started their slow, gradual walk back along the perimeter.

Tedious work. No wonder so many guards drank. Nothing but the bug sounds, the occasional creaking of a tree limb bending if there was a wind.

You had to force yourself to keep your pace slow.

Billy Kemp would be coming back this way as well. The jet fuel in his gut making his walk a snaky thing on the straight path that ran beside the fence.

Fergus looked up.

Fireworks starting for real.

In their glare, he could see Billy stumbling along.

Christ, what a freakin’ mess. Ed Lowe should can his ass.

Put him outside. See how he likes it out there.

And now—closer to Fergus.

A big explosion boomed from the lake.

Then, in the quiet, something new.

A rattling.

From real close.

A rattling. From the fence.

Fergus looked up.

Nothing at first. Not without a flashlight. Flashlight killed your night vision.

Best not to use it.

But on a moonless night it was hard to see anything except when the skies lit up.

His eyes moved up the fence—a big flash of light—and he did see something. A dark shape at the top. Like a sack or a bag? Resting right on top of the tight coiled of razor ribbon.

Thoughts came quickly to Fergus.

Whatever it was should have shorted the outer fence. Made a connection. Shorted the fence out, triggered an alarm.

What the hell was it? He started to reach for his flashlight.

Kemp came stumbling toward Fergus, oblivious. Fucking oblivious.

Hand on the flashlight.

But there would be no time to get it out, unclip it from the belt, turn it on, aim it.

A bunch of smaller explosions echoed in the woods. No light from them.

So many things had to happen to get the flashlight on.

None of which could happen. Now. When there simply was no time.

*   *   *

A big ooooh! erupted from the families.

Jack saw the light of the fireworks reflected in all the faces looking upward.

A breeze blew off the water. Chilling. Gooseflesh rose on Jack’s arm. Christie leaned into him. He put his arm around her.

The kids nearby, heads tilted up.

For the next few seconds, Jack just enjoyed the show.

*   *   *

Hand on flashlight.

About as far as Fergus got.

Then, they leaped onto the outer fence—three, then four of them. Tattered clothes, nearly naked, clambering up to what was now clearly the body that had been thrown on top.

A bridge across the razor ribbon.

But what about the thousand volts of electricity?

Nothing, as they made their way up quickly.

Fergus yelled, “Kemp! Look!”

All Kemp did was stop, standing next to the Can Heads nearly at the top of the fence.

Fergus stopped reaching for his flashlight.

He backed up. He started to lower his gun, wondering why it took so long to get it into position, to get the damn safety off, to get his goddamn hand onto the trigger, to begin aiming—all so fucking long.

His left hand flew to the walkie-talkie clipped to left shoulder. Even hitting the send button seemed to be the most difficult task.

He pressed hard, and yelled, “Code Red!”

They’d know who sent it. They’d know what sector. Back in the service area where they had all the cameras, where they monitored the entire camp, the fences. By now, they should have picked up the shapes on their cameras.

The first Can Heads had reached the top, using the body to slide over and leap down.

One landed right on Kemp, who never saw it coming.

Fergus itched to shoot but now he’d kill Kemp. No doubt.

There were others on the fence. Another two, three, four.

Christ, he thought.

What the hell was wrong with the goddamn fence?

He started shooting.

But even as he sprayed the fence, he began pulling back.

With that one thought that drove him to come here, to live in Paterville, to do this:

I want to stay alive.

*   *   *

Jack turned his head.

Hearing the noise above the intermittent explosions coming from the sky.

Everyone else would have missed it.

Just another explosion.

He tightened. Gently, he pushed Christie away.