Vacation

It resolved into something almost recognizable: houses, cabins, close to the shore.

But now blackened, timbers exposed.

Fire. Had to be. A whole group of them, like a town at the cliff’s edge, burned down. Not a building untouched.

He turned back to the shore, his paranoia there. Knowing, feeling that this was something they were not supposed to see. The burned houses. The charred remains of where people once lived. What happened? Lightning? A wildfire?

He shook his head.

The woods near the houses were untouched.

He thought he saw something at the window of one building. Could have been anything, really. A shape. A branch that fell and got burned.

Sure, he told himself. That’s all.

Why do I think I see what look like arms? The shape of a head. The thing half in and half out of the window.

White bones, toasted black.

He took a breath, then looked at his kids, both oblivious to what he had been studying.

Then to the shore. As if someone there could be watching him.

Then, seemingly booming from the sky above them, a long, deep blast of a horn, aimed right at the lake.

Like the loud moan of a fire alarm in a small town, late at night, rousing the volunteers.

One blast, then another.

Simon’s hands went to his ears and he dropped his paddle. He immediately twisted to see where it went. His motion made the boat rock. Instinctively, Jack moved in the other direction to steady the boat.

“My paddle!”

Jack’s voice took on a clear, commanding tone: “Simon. Stay seated. We’ll get the paddle.”

One that he hoped expressed calm. But one that Simon would obey.

The paddle coasted past Kate, any opportunity for an easy recovery gone.

“Dad, I’m—”

“Nice and still, Simon. Just like I showed you.”

Then another, longer blast of the warning horn.

Jack looked back at Kate, checking on her. She looked scared, and held her paddle up in the air.

Good. At least she’s not making us go farther into the forbidden zone.

He looked to the trees at the top of the cliff. Loudspeakers.

Christ, loudspeakers out here? Why? Then the answer came.

“Turn your boat around immediately. You are leaving Paterville property.”

A recorded voice. Just triggered by their arrival here? Or did someone send those blasts, the messages?

The message repeated.

“Turn your boat around now!”

“Daddy,” Kate said, “are we in trouble?”

Jack forced a smile. “Oh, right—big trouble. The canoe police will want to have a chat with us.”

That made her face ease a bit.

“My paddle!” Simon said, as if a reminder.

Then another horn blast.

“All right, here’s what we’re gonna do. Let me just do the paddling here—”

Can that even be done? Jack thought. From the middle of the canoe?

“—and I’ll get us over to Simon’s paddle. Then we’ll figure out how to turn around and get back.”

He looked from Simon, then to Kate.

“Okay, then?”

They nodded.

“Here we go.”

*   *   *

It took longer to get the paddle than it had to canoe all the way out there. But Jack eventually got to it, reached down, and picked it up.

“Here you go. Back in business,” he said to Simon. Then to Kate: “Now, I think, if you just do this…”

Jack again modeled the angle and position with his paddle.

“And if Simon and I row nice and straight, we should turn around fine. And head back.”

He made sure he didn’t look back at the cliff edge, the burned out places barely visible behind the bushes and trees.

But the thought: The horn. They don’t want anyone seeing that.

“Will that horn blow again?” Simon asked.

Jack looked up, back to the shore.

“No. I think they know we got the message.”

This time, Kate got the position right.

When the canoe was finally pointed straight at the beach, they began paddling as before, streaming through the water, heading back to the Paterville beach.

Moving quickly away from the secret on the lake.

*   *   *

Jack had expected Ed Lowe to be waiting for them, a reprimand at the ready.

But only the attendant was on the dock.

Freddy waited, arms folded, until they had gingerly stepped out of the canoe and onto the dock.

“I told you,” he said, dully, like a parent reminding a kid of some chore forgotten a dozen or more times, “not to go past that point. No one goes past that point.”

Jack took the life preservers from the kids and handed them to the attendant.

“Had a little trouble with the steering. Maybe put some damn rudders on these things.”

The joke brought nothing. Freddy gathered all three preservers on one arm and started to turn.

“Hey,” Jack said.

Still smiling, still keeping it light.

More for his kids than the sullen attendant.

Did this kid even know what was out there?

“What’s with the horns? Pretty loud.”

Freddy didn’t stop. Jack followed him to the storage container.

“They warn you.” The kid picked up the lid and tossed in the jackets. “Least they’re supposed to warn you.”

“We heard them, all right.”

“Dad, can I go back to the cottage?” Kate said.

“Sure. Take Simon.”

In seconds, they had left the dock. The splintery storage container lid slammed down hard.

The attendant moved to his chair. Picked up a clipboard.

Lot of important paperwork with this job, Jack thought.

“Looks like there was a fire up there,” he said.

He studied the kid, focused on his clipboard.

When the kid didn’t respond, Jack took a step closer. “Know anything about that?”

Finally, the kid looked up, his eyes narrowed. Jack could feel the anger there. Freddy didn’t like the questions.

“Nope. Never been out that far.”

Back to the clipboard.

Jack walked away, catching up with his kids, already back on the beach, knowing that Freddy knew exactly what was on those cliffs.