Chapter 6: Weirdness (Nosex, story setup, descriptions of violence)
Bob left the cabin early Thursday for supplies. How is it that out of fourteen camping stores, hardware stores, general stores, and liquor stores, not a single one of them sold a decent lock for a cabin door? Sure, he found something that would get the job done, but Bob is cheap, and why pay for something nice when he can make something almost as nice?
At least, that was the plan before his pager went off Thursday evening. It was 1995, people had pagers, cell phones were for rich people and assholes. Usually the same thing. He saw the code. It was Vinny, telling him to call him at his mom’s place. Twenty minutes and a handful of coins later Vinny was asking Bob to come back down. Someone needed a beating.
Bob didn’t waste any time heading back to Veneto. It’s a suburb of Harbor City, upriver of the main harbor by a few miles. It had its really good parts, and it’s really bad parts. Bob grew up in the bad parts. Not bad per se, but more rough than anything else. There were a couple small projects a few blocks by the river and some really small and beaten up houses, but for the most part, it was okay. It was Bob and his buddies that seemed to make the place a little rough.
Besides, Bob didn’t like the vibe he was getting up around the camp this week. Following Jacob Daniels getting his ass kicked in full view of a hundred people, Bob was getting some weird looks when he went shopping. Most of the weirdness came from people associated to the camp and church. The townsfolk didn’t pay him any mind, but he just had a bad feeling. Like, he was being watched for some reason. And he didn’t want to spend vacation prices for meat. He could do all of his shopping down home and it would cost half the price of the crap they had up by the lake. Strange how that worked.
Bob was home late Thursday and he rolled on over to Vinny’s place. Vinny and Chuck had a run-in with Travis, this real crazy mother fucker. He suffered from short-guy syndrome, where because he was 5’5”, he was convinced the world was out to get him and he’d cop an attitude with anyone slightly taller than him. He recently was discharged from the Marines with a Medical waiver. He bit the wrong someone while deployed in Japan and some other shit happened, and they kicked him out for being nuts. When the Marines say ‘this boy is batshit insane’, he’s crazy.
The way Vinny told the story, he and Chuck were out and about, looking to kill some time before going to the local bar where they knew they could get Chuck in. Chuck starts talking to a couple honeys around his age, when Travis shows up and gets all pissy. He starts screaming, yelling, and eventually pulls a knife on Chuck for talking to these girls. Travis said one of them was his girlfriend, but she didn’t exactly look the part.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Bob asked, drinking a beer in Vinny’s kitchen.
“It means...” Vinny looked around to see if anyone was listening. “That he was robbing the fucking cradle. You know how Chuck fucks everything up?”
“Yeah. What did he do this time?”
“Well, from a distance they looked older. By the time he got close enough to talk to them, they weren’t his age. Well Chuck was being Chuck and figured he could use the practice, so he starts spitting some game at them, and they’re like ‘we’re only 13.’ Of course, I’m sitting back laughing my ass off watching this shit, when Travis comes up and goes all psycho ex-boyfriend and pulls out a fucking Bowie knife. Like he’s Rambo or some shit.” Vinny took a sip of beer.
“Shit. When was this?”
“Right before I paged you.”
“Wait, so he pulled a fucking knife on someone in broad daylight and was screaming that the little junior high girls were his girlfriends? And this is after he fucking bit a guy?”
“He bit a guy years ago, but yeah.” Vinny replied and sipped the beer.
“Look, I don’t know if I can say shit about the ages, but he pulled a fucking knife in broad daylight. Dude needs an ass whooping.” Bob took a drink.
“Hey, at least those girls at the camp are old enough to have pussy hair. These girls, I don’t know man. But he does need his ass whooped.”
Vinny drank. Bob followed suit. They finished their beers and picked up the rest of the crew. They spent most of the night looking for Travis, but couldn’t find him anywhere. A little after Midnight they gave up the search for the night and went to Jay’s, the bar owned by Vinny’s great uncle Jay. They hung out, they drank, they almost forgot their problems until some little dipshit in the corner started making a ruckus. Bob and Vinny went over, looking for a fight. Turned out it wasn’t Travis, but just some little douchebag from out of town for the weekend.
Instead of kicking this guy’s ass, they invited him over to drink with them. They drank, hung out, and eventually made it to douchebag’s boat.
No one was quite sure how they ended up 15 miles down river in Harbor City, or even better how they ended up with half a dozen other people on the boat with them when the river patrol stopped them and forced them to dock. It was just another holiday weekend.
The rest of the weekend was quiet. Until Sunday.
No one saw Travis until Sunday, and that was when Paul and Gary found him in the park talking to some girl that was way too young to be dating a 25-year-old ex-Marine. Paul paged Vinny while Gary sat awkwardly in Travis’s view.
It took about 10 minutes for Vinny to respond. By the time Vinny called Paul back at the pay phone, Paul was gone and it just rang and rang. About a half hour later, Vinny received another page. This time it was Paul, calling from the docks.
Bob sat in the living room of Vinny’s grandma's house while Vinny called Paul back on the pay phone. Sirens could be heard in the distance on both sides of the call. Bob only heard half the conversation, but knew it was pretty fucked from the way Vinny reacted. It was short but loud. Vinny hung up and talked to Bob.
“Yo, did Paul and Gary tell you what they were doing today?”
“No. You?”
“Nah dude. But someone paged me earlier and then now Paul just paged from the docks, telling me he’s borrowing my boat. Doesn’t ask, just tells.”
Bob looked at him with a confused look.
“Wait. You got a boat?”
“Grandpa’s old boat. The Ballbuster Deluxe. Named it after Grandma right before he got cancer. I just don’t like to use it, gas is expensive.”
“I’m confused.”
Before Bob could explain why he was confused, there was a knock at the door. Vinny answered it. At the door stood a Veneto Police Officer. He was a 6-foot-tall black man. His name tag said “HASKINS”. Vinny looked at him and smiled.
“OMAR! SUP MY MAN?” Vinny slapped and shook Officer Omar Haskin’s hand. Omar didn’t look too happy.
“Kind of a messed-up day, I’m here on official business. You boys don’t happen to know where Travis Matheson is at, do you?”
Vinny looked confused. He turned to Bob, who shrugged his shoulders.
“No, we don’t.” Vinny told Omar.
“Word has it you and your boys were looking for him. Is that true?”
“He pulled a fucking knife on Chuckie in broad daylight. We looked for him on Friday, but gave up and went drinking.”
Bob interjected from the other side of the living room.
“Didn’t he get kicked out of the Marines for being too crazy? Like, how is that possible?”
“He bit a guy.” Vinny replied.
“Well...” Omar spoke up. “Someone found him and put two holes in his belly. Y’all didn’t hear the ambulance?”
Vinny and Bob looked shocked. Vinny waved Omar in to the living room. Vinny and Bob sat on the couch, Omar on the comfy chair.
“Holy shit, what happened?” Vinny asked, looking stunned.
“Not exactly sure, but we got a call from a woman that her daughter was being harassed by some man at the park that fit Travis’s description. Man kept leaning in getting a little too close. As we went down to the park, we found Travis lying on the ground, with his big ass knife by his side. Girl says that right before she left, another short man that sounded a hell of a lot like Gary sat down near them, and just stared at Travis until he lost focus on the girl and she ran. Girl was just 10. Travis was molesting her on the swing set. While they were waiting for the ambulance, they found on his person some rope, rubbers, and Vaseline. Explains why the fuck he was wearing a thick coat in July. He was up to some shit, and some random ass guy who sounds a lot like Gary was the last known person around him before he’s found with two new holes in his gut.”
Omar paused to see how Bob and Vinny took this. To his surprise, they were shocked.
“Listen, I know that Gary and Paul are part of your crew. Gary could make a really good argument for self-defense, or trying to protect the girl, but this could go real bad for him. He should lay low, lawyer up. In fact, all y’all should probably do the same. Paul and Gary are attached at the hip, so they’re in this shit, probably looking for a place to hide. Just, tell everyone to lay low. Dig?”
Bob and Vinny nodded.
“Cool. The only reason we’re not putting out an APB on those two right now is that the creep he shot is a fucking scumbag. If Travis pulls through and decides to press charges, then we’ll come knocking again. But if he doesn’t, then as long as that gun wasn’t used for another crime we have in our database, I don’t know how we’ll ever find the perpetrator. Dig?”
“We dig.” Bob said.
“Cool. How’s grandma doing? She okay after that fall?” Omar asked Vinny, showing genuine concern.
“She’s getting around. Still trying to get her to quit smoking now that she’s on oxygen, and she hates using the wheelchair. Unless it’s to run my ass over.” Vinny and Omar laughed.
They spent the next few minutes bullshitting, until Omar left. Vinny tried to play it as cool as possible. Bob was left out of the loop for the most part, but still had a feeling something was up.
Once Omar was out of earshot, Vinny went out on the back porch and chain smoked for the next hour. Bob didn’t say shit during this time, and Vinny didn’t look like he wanted to talk.
Chuck showed up later in the evening, after being out and about all night. The rumors going around the town was that some “weirdo got capped” in the park. Chuck was excited cause he just got Chunky Tara’s number, even though they knew it was fake. He tried getting Vinny to say something, but Vinny was just still on the porch chain smoking.
It wasn’t until later at night when Paul called Vinny from the pier’s pay phone, letting him know the boat was back at the dock and they topped off the gas tank. Vinny only said one thing during the conversation.
“Aiight. Hey, you know what my favoite Clapton song is? Laylow.”
Paul caught the meaning. He knew Vinny well enough that he didn’t like Layla, his favorite Clapton song was Cocaine. Second, why say Layla like Lay Low unless he had to.
After the phone call, Vinny pulled Bob and Chuck into the detached garage and put on some music. Not loud enough to wake the neighbors, but loud enough to cover their voices. They filled Chuck in on what went down, and where Paul and Gary were all day.
Paul and Gary didn’t show up to work that week, but they didn’t get fired. Bob talked to the foreman about what happened, and they were able to keep their jobs. It just meant the rest of them had to work overtime to make up for being two people short.
Bob couldn’t wait to get off of work on Friday. As soon as they finished putting down the subfloor in the house they were working on, they hit the bar for a quick happy hour, then Bob drove up to the cabin, stopping at Vinny’s just long enough to shit, shower, and shave. He grabbed some groceries, but once again, didn’t remember to get a lock for his cabin until after he was out of Chester County and on the country roads.
He arrived around midnight, dead tired from the long week. All he wanted to do was get in his cabin, unload his supplies, and go to sleep. He carried a case of beer in one hand and his pistol in his right hand.
What he saw when he walked in was a blonde woman sitting on his couch. She sat in the dark, waiting for Bob to come in before she turned on the light.
Bob stepped back when the lights turned on, clearing from the doorway. This was how they jumped a guy back in the day. Sit in a dark room, turn the lights on as a signal to attack and confuse the target, then jump on him in the doorway. He waited for the attack to come. Either this wasn’t a setup for a fight, they fell asleep, or were patient.
Bob put the case of beer down and pointed his gun inside the cabin, checking the corners and blind spots before aiming it at the blonde on the couch. This is when he got his first good look at her.
He recognized her. It was Natalie, that pretentious bitch from the camp that was working with Angie. She had long, blonde hair that came past her shoulders, and was straight. Her blue eyes, short nose, high cheekbones and cute chin made her look like a model. She wore the same t-shirt and shorts that Angie wore when they first met, but her boobs were bigger than Angie’s. This girl had to be at least a 36C, maybe even D-cup. She looked amazing.
Except that smile of hers. Something was off with her smile. It was too... fake. Like the smile a waitress at Hooter’s gives to flirt with some 300-pound fucker for a better tip. She was still smiling, even as he held a gun on her.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bob asked, still pointing the gun at his intruder. She barely flinched. Something wasn’t right. Bob moved around the cabin, making sure there was no one else there.
“If you’re looking around for anyone, I came here alone. I wanted to talk with you.” She had the audacity to pat the seat next to her on the couch.
Bob put his gun back in his pants and put his beer in the fridge.
“This is my cabin. Who are you and what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Bob knew that this was Natalie, the reverend’s daughter, and that she was called Thundercunt, but she didn’t need to know what that he knew anything about her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My name’s Natalie. Natalie Daniels. I’m one of the senior campers over at Camp Hiawatha. Angie and Stacy told me about this place.” Natalie said, trying to ease Bob’s warnings.
One thing about Bob, he had a keen nose for bullshit. He could smell that something was wrong from across the room just as easily as if she’d shat on his couch. Angie hated this girl, and Stacy hated the entire family. There’s no way in Hell they’d ever spill the beans voluntarily about this place, let alone what they did. There were many things not right with this, but he couldn’t put his finger on yet.
“Daniels? Any relation to Jacob or Jason? Whatever his name is, I think I met him last week.” Bob put the fresh beers in the fridge and took inventory. There were still a few left from last time, along with a couple wine coolers. He didn’t have many visitors since last week, at least none that drank his beer.
“They’re my cousins. Jacob and Jason are twins. They’re both ministers in the church.” She leaned over to watch Bob in the kitchen. He looked at her, but there was something off about her.
“Y’all broke into my place, but I feel like I should ask you nicely to leave before I get upset, but I’ll be neighborly for a moment. Just a moment. Want something to drink?”
“Could you get me a beer, or maybe something fruity to drink?”
That did it. Bob recognized the line of questioning. It’s like when a bad undercover cop tries to convince someone to buy them drugs. They phrase it in just such a way to make it seem like it was the dealer’s idea, but in reality, it was all a ploy. If she really wanted a beer or a drink, she could have helped herself hours ago. She’s okay with breaking and entering, but draws the line at taking one beer out of a six-pack? And she would only know about what was in here if she looked in here.
She was trying to set him up. But he didn’t know what for yet. Time to play along a bit.
“How old are you?”
“17.”
“You get water. Beer is for grown-ups.” Bob grabbed a beer for himself a bottle of water for her, and poured it into a glass. He didn’t want her taking anything with her. He didn’t trust her at all, but he wanted to see what her angle was.
She didn’t argue for the drink. She could have pushed for it, and if she was convincing enough he might have given her one. But she didn’t. She didn’t want the drink, just wanted to see if the man in his mid 20’s would give the underage girl a beer. The underage girl whose father runs the largest evangelical church near Harbor City. The underage girl who is despised by her campmates and was the only one of the ‘senior campers’ who didn’t escape to have fun on the Fourth of July.
He sat on the couch, leaving some space between them and handed her the cup of water. It wasn’t full, just enough in there to say ‘I’m being polite, but get the fuck out as soon as this is over.’
“What do you want?” Bob eyed her up and down once as she took a sip. She was smoking hot, but was a stone-cold bitch.
“I can’t just hang out? Like you hung out with Angie?”
Natalie baited him with that question. Bob had to step carefully. From what he knew about Natalie, she was a conniving bitch and was probably looking for dirt on him and Angie so she could hurt his friend. Not girlfriend. Maybe Friend With Benefits.
“Look, YOU broke into MY cabin. By all rights I shoulda shot yo ass by now. Instead, you’re drinking water on my couch. When you finish, I will say goodnight and you will march yo ass back to the camp you came from.”
Natalie gave him a smirk.
“Why do you come up here every weekend?”
“Why are you going to camp?”
“I asked you first.” Natalie sipped her water. She thought she had the upper hand. Something Bob heard years ago when he worked a sales job for a short time, ‘answer a question with a question, it takes the power in the conversation.’
“It’s the weekend, and it’s quiet. Why are you going to camp?”
“I’m learning more about the ministry and how to run and operate the church, and part of that is to see what lessons we can learn and teach the other students.”
“What kind of lessons?” Natalie’s eyes perked up when he asked about the lessons. Part of him regrets ever asking that question, but it opened her up.
Natalie spent the next 30 minutes going on and on about the lessons she’s learned about Jesus and love and charity and how to hate gays and why minorities were evil but weren’t but it wasn’t okay to say that anymore, then she tried to save Bob’s soul a few times before he started yawning. He feigned interest as best as he could, keeping her going for a while. She sidetracked herself with talk of saving Bob’s immortal soul and leading a clean and virtuous life. Eventually, he had to shoo her out when he pointed out how late it was. She tried one last time to get him to accept Jesus Christ into his life, but he told her “When I get there, I’ll come and find you. Good night.”
Bob watched as she walked away. She had an amazing ass to go along with the model good looks, but was just too much of a bitch. Like Vinny said, she’d probably fuck like a dead fish.
-------------------------------------------------
Bob put the rest of his supplies in the fridge and went to sleep. Just to be on the safe side, he jammed his door shut with a tire iron. His conversation with Natalie gnawed at him. There was something fundamentally wrong with her and how she acted. There was a special level of evil about her, like she was capable of so many horrible things and would find a way to justify it each and every time.
She mentioned Angie and Stacy, but not Jen. Why? The only thing Bob could figure out was that she confronted Angie or Stacy, maybe both of them, but didn’t want to include Jen or didn’t know about Jen. Bob threw that first part out the window. From what he gathered, Natalie would throw her own mother down a flight of stairs for the sympathy of having a crippled mother to take care of. Natalie probably got to Stacy first and made her crack, but she didn’t give up Jen. And Natalie saw Angie and Bob head off in the woods in close proximity to each other. She may have even tracked Angie down on a previous night to the cabin. She dropped Angie’s name a couple times, so it seemed more like she got it from Stacy.
Stacy was Natalie’s cousin, and Natalie’s father was Stacy’s uncle. Stacy was raped at a young age by her cousins and uncles. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Natalie’s father raped Stacy. What are the odds that Natalie knew?
Bob eventually went to sleep, but woke up troubled. His mind was racing so much that he didn’t want any weed. Something was fucking with him, but he wasn’t sure what to do.
Saturday came and went. He went to the town, got some supplies, including some hardware to make a make lock of sorts. These old cabins didn’t have properly sized doors, so he had to get creative. At least it was something.
During the afternoon he climbed his tree stand and watched the older campers swim. Sure, he felt a little pervy, but he was doing this for a good cause. His friends might be in trouble. He didn’t like what he saw.
Almost everyone was still broken up into their own cliques, but the popular girl’s clique was different. Three girls were missing; Angie, Jen, and Stacy. Jen would circle in every so often, but it looked more like she was trying to keep her distance from Natalie.
Bob found Angie over with the band geeks. At least, they looked like band geeks. Fat, pimply, could keep a marching cadence and had some physical skills from carrying instruments all day.
He looked for Stacy everywhere, in every group, but couldn’t find her. It wasn’t until the very end when he found her by herself, completely ostracized. No groups wanted to be with her, nor wanted her with them. Every so often he could see Jen look her way, and he genuinely felt sad for them.
Bob wasn’t an expert on high school religious girls political dynamics, but he had a strong feeling that whatever happened since the Fourth, Natalie had a hand in it.
Saturday night was uneventful. No visitors, no intruders, nothing. The closest that Bob came to anyone stopping by was a deer passing by his cabin. He was worried and missing the girls, especially Angie.
Sunday morning was more of the same. Quiet. Loneliness. Damn, what was going on? This is what he came up to the cabin for in the first place, but for some reason, it just didn’t feel the same.
As Bob was packing up Sunday afternoon, a young man wearing a light blue shirt and dark blue gym shorts walked over. He was average height, looked to be in either high school or college. He was pale, with reddish-brown hair that was just a little too long, like it was a month overdue for a cut.
Bob heard the young man before he saw him, but it gave him time to have his gun ready. The young man slowed down his walking as Bob reached behind him.
“Woah, woah, woah. You Bob?” He raised his hands.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Eric. Angie sent me. She gave me a note to give to you, asked me to deliver it before you left.”
“How’d you get away from the camp?”
“I’m one of the counselors. They don’t watch the watchers as close as they do the campers.”
Bob looked at him a little confused.
“I’m on the staff, but I’m not high up on the staff. I’m not family, so I only get a few freedoms. Being able to walk around the woods unsupervised is one of them.”
Bob looked around a little further, trying to see if he was being watched.
“Look, I’ll get in more trouble than you will if you can get me a pack of smokes. I haven’t had a cigarette in a month and I’m ready to do some fucked up things for pack. If it means delivering messages between you and your girlfriend, so be it.”
That last line caught Bob off guard.
“Listen, can I put my hands down and give you the letter, or are you going to shoot me? I don’t have all day.”
Bob took his hand off of his gun and showed Eric that he was unarmed. Eric reached slowly behind him and almost handed him the letter.
“Angie promised me that you’d have a pack of smokes for me. Said you smoked menthols.”
Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Menthols.
“I didn’t know I’d have to split this with some messenger.” Bob took out three smokes and handed the rest to Eric. It was less than a half a pack. Bob then handed on of the three smokes he held to Eric. Eric took it and Bob lit it. Eric took in his first drag off of a smoke in who knows how long. Bob than lit one of his and put the other behind his ear.
Eric handed the letter to Bob.
“I’ll need the lighter, too. Going forward, a pack each week. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook on it. Eric leaned up against Bob’s truck as Bob opened the letter. It was short.
B,
Don’t trust TC. She’s up to no good. Her family is evil. We’ll make the bitch pay for what she did.
Babe
“What the fuck? What happened?” Bob looked at the note a couple times, re-reading it for any extra context, but there was nothing there. He looked at Eric, who was probably the most relaxed he’d been all summer.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but after Jacob got his ass kicked, the family took that as a black eye. Doesn’t matter if Jacob deserved it or not, they need to find some way to come out of this on the winning side. So, Natalie started telling everyone that he got jumped at the beach by some ruffians, and you were one of them. Problem is, there’s a hundred witnesses that will point to you not being anywhere near him that night and a bunch of others saying that Jacob deserved it for what he was saying. Her story shifted a few times, but being the reverend’s daughter has a way of making people buy her bullshit.”
Eric paused and took a drag.
“I’m guessing that she pointed them in this direction, since Natalie saw you with one of the guys that dragged Jacob back to the camp. They were hoping you’d lead the family to them, but they lost the scent of your trail when you got back towards Harbor City. Supposedly you drove off to an area they were hesitant to go to and couldn’t find you again.
“Wait, they followed me?”
“It gets worse. Since they couldn’t track you down, they decided to try to make examples out of the girls they thought knew you. Natalie was a down right bitch to Stacy, but Stacy didn’t break. She didn’t give up any names. Not even her girlfriend when Natalie threatened to out her.”
Eric took another drag.
“Natalie then told everyone at the camp that Stacy was a lesbian and made the moves on her, her own cousin. Jen was ready to stab Natalie then and there, but that bitch kept going. Sorry, I hate using that word in proper context, but I can’t think of anything else to call her.”
“What word?” Bob asked Eric as Bob was looking through his bag for a pen and paper.
“Bitch.”
“They call her Thundercunt. Bitch is barely in the same universe.”
“Thundercunt?” Eric said as the realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s what TC stands for. Makes sense now.”
Eric took a drag before continuing. Bob started writing something.
“Where was I? Oh yeah, the lunch where Natalie called Stacy an incestuous dyke whore. Jen’s ready to stab Natalie, when all of a sudden Angie gets up in Natalie’s face and starts screaming at her. They fight. Meanwhile, Stacy’s been ostracized from every group, and Angie’s been kicked out of the pretty girls club, although now it’s more of an ass-kissers club. Jen, well let’s just say I’ve spent the better part of the last week keeping her away from the sharp objects and Natalie’s face. You know something that bothers me?” Eric stopped to take another drag.
“What’s that? They got phones over there, right?” Bob asked as he kept writing.
“Yeah, they can accept and make calls, but not all the time. There’s a pay phone they can all use if they have money or slugs. The shop kids figured out how to make fake quarters, and the phreakers do some crazy shit with the phones. There’s an office phone, but only for emergencies and next of kin calls. Doubt that works for you.”
“True.”
“What really bothers me with Natalie is she doesn’t have a nickname. Not a nice one anyway. Every other Natalie here and that I’ve met has a nickname. Nat, Natty, Lee, Alie, Natty Life, Big N, they all have some term of endearment. Might get called Sweetie or Honey or Baby, but not this Natalie. Even her parents only call her Natalie. It’s like no one loves her enough to be cute with her. It’s almost sad, until you see her act like, what was that a Thundercunt?”
“Yep.” Bob finished his smoke and the note. He handed it to Eric, who was just about done with his cigarette.
“This has to get to Angie ASAP. Tell her to read it, memorize it, then burn it or destroy it. Can’t risk it falling into Thundercunt’s hands.”
Eric takes a look at the note.
“What’s this? Looks like a pager number and a series of codes.”
“Yeah. She can call out to my pager, and I can call back to the payphone or whatever else she uses. Can you help her get out?”
Eric scoffed.
“Getting out is easy. Getting Natalie’s attention away from her, that’s hard. I’ll figure out some way, but the coast should be clear this weekend. It’s a session change and Natalie and some of the ass-kissers are going back home to preach. I’ve got a feeling that some of the campers will be in trouble and not allowed to travel, forcing them to spend the weekend here. By Friday night all three of them will be suspended.” Eric winked.
“One last question. Why you helping?”
“I don’t like what they did to this camp. I don’t like what they did to the counselors that didn’t buy in completely, and I sure as Hell don’t like the Daniels family or how they act. When the season started, there were two groups of counselors: those that were Jesus freaks, and those that knew their jobs. The Jesus freaks pushed out most of us who know how to do their jobs, but they can’t get rid of the last of us. I’m here until the end of the season and I’m done with this shit. And I really didn’t like what Natalie did to Stacy. A person should never be outed against their will.”
Eric folded the note and put it in his pocket.
“One last thing. Lighter. I’d use the matches from arts and crafts, but there’s a little pyro in junior high, so they’re counting the matchbooks now.”
“Sure.” Bob handed Eric the lighter and shook his hand. “Full pack each week going forward, but it has to be Menthols. I buy these by the carton.”
“Sounds good. Have a good one.” With that, Eric left and Bob finished packing up his truck.
Before too long, Bob was on the road. He was probably 25 miles out when he received a page. There was no call back number, only a simple code.
143. Old school pager code for ‘I Miss You/I Love You’. Looks like Angie got his note.