Vacation

He released Kate, and went around to the windows, then to the front and back doors, shutting and locking them.

The windows. So damn easy to toss a rock at one and gain entry.

Had Lowe and his Paterville team never expected this?

Ever planned for this fucking situation?

Everything shut tight, he ran into the bedroom. Opened a drawer and took out his gun. He grabbed a box of bullets.

Out to the living room.

At least the horns sounded more distant with everything buttoned up. The kids looked up at him, hiding the gun still in its holster.

But Christie saw it.

“Jack.”

He walked over to the three of them on the couch.

Perhaps it’s the way he held the gun. Not as if he was going to use it. Because he wasn’t.

He passed it to Christie.

“Jack, what—”

Then he passed her the box of bullets.

She knew how to shoot. He had made sure of that.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s loaded, Christie. And you got more bullets in the box. And here, on the couch”—he looked around the small living room—“is where you stay. You understand? You can see all the windows. The doors. Right from here.”

He felt the kids’ eyes moving from the gun to his face.

He forced himself to smile.

“Probably nothing. But best to be safe. Just like we’ve practiced at home.”

The drills. The government urging everyone to practice what they would do. To prepare.

Like what to do in case of fire.

Only in this case, what to do in case of cannibals crawling into your house.

Finally, Christie asked the question: “What are you going to do?”

He stood up. “Make sure things are okay out there.”

She shook her head. “Jack. You stay here. We need you here.”

He took a breath. Yes, true, he thought. If you wanted to wait until some of them came.

Waiting could be just the wrong thing to do.

“I’m going to take a look.” He paused. “Make sure it stays nice and quiet in Paterville.”

“Daddy, stay,” Simon said, picking up on his mother’s worry.

“I’ll be back real soon.”

Kate said nothing.

“But you don’t have a gun now!” Christie said, her voice sounding exasperated, as if she already knew this was an argument she would lose.

He looked right at her. “Yes, I do. Plenty of guns.” A casual shrug of the shoulders. “In the car.”

She shook her head.

“If you get there.”

He wanted to tell her that if there was something bad going on outside, then one small revolver and a box of bullets would be precious little against a bunch of Can Heads.

That he knew.

But he didn’t have to say it.

“We may need those guns.” Another smile. “Or not. But I can get them fast.”

Did she agree? He didn’t know. But he saw her eyes had grown watery. She fought her fear for the kids.

Then another telltale sign. Her right hand closing over the grip of the pistol. She also put the box of bullets down beside her and undid the holster clasp.

“Keep the doors locked. Listen for sounds. And when I come back, I’ll knock—three … two … one.”

Christie nodded.

He looked at his kids. Scared. Quiet.

He went to the door, undid the sliding bolt lock, and walked out, not having a clue what he’d see there.

The first thing Jack noticed: nobody outside.

Gunfire came from three, maybe four different areas, so all the guards must be out there, dealing with the Can Heads that had gotten in.

If the fence had gone down, was it back up yet? Or could the Can Heads keep coming in?

Some of the cabins were dark. Maybe the people thinking that if they looked dark, empty, the Can Heads would skip them.

Might work.

Or might be exactly what a deranged Can Head would look for.

He started running full out, arms pumping, and immediately felt the pain in his leg.

Can’t run for a while, Dr. Kleiner had said. No running for you. All that running, the sudden stretching of muscles. Could set you back, way back.

Not to mention the pain.

Jack ran as fast as he could.

The Great Lodge looked empty, unprotected. Yep. All the guards dealing with the attack.

Maybe everyone was. Not just the guards. Lowe, Shana, the cooks. Anyone who could use a gun.

He peeled away down the trail that led to the parking lot. The parking lot as dark as ever, with its two spots of light.

Perfect for a trap.

But he didn’t hear any gunfire down there.

Got to do this fast, he thought. Get a gun and get the hell out of there.

His left foot hit a rock and he went flying forward. Breaking his fall with his right leg.

Months of rehab loomed when he got out of this.

When.

Always the right way to think about it. When. Not fucking “if.” “If” could lead to mistakes. “If” led to fear.

He ran between cars, scraping doors, banging into mirrors, hurrying as fast as he could to the Explorer.

It would be so damn easy for one of them to jump out from behind the shadow of a car.

Not much he could do about that.

He reached his car and used the electronic key to open the rear door.

He ripped up the mat that covered the metal plate of the storage compartment.

Now he had to use the key. In the goddamn dark. Get the key in, turn it, get the thing open.

What’s around here? Anything around here, coming closer, while you fumble with that key?

In the wrong way at first, then a little twist and the key slid home. He unlocked the compartment.

*   *   *

Christie released her hold on the gun.

Kate wanted a hand, and so did Simon. The gun sat on her lap, almost in a line with the two hands she held.

The horns constant. The warning message, though, had stopped. The dull, repetitive voice saying, Please return to your cabins immediately.

Everyone had done that.

Christie looked at Simon.