Dammit.
I throw down the paper and storm back to my car. Muttering half-formed sentences, I yank the door shut and slam the car into reverse. I'm back on the freeway, racking my brain for a way to find this guy. Nothing comes to mind. I don't even know his last name.
I need a vacation. Maybe I can convince Karl to give me a guaranteed week off every summer. I would go somewhere with more than a dozen trees and maybe water that isn't a glorified swimming pool. Any place that doesn't feel like Hell's picnic grounds would be fine with me.
That's probably where my jackalope is—escaping the heat. Where would someone like him go? Mexico, maybe. So he can get his spelunking and snorkeling on. Or maybe to that camp.
I nearly hit the brake.
The youth camp Robert volunteers at occurs every summer.
Looks like I'm getting a working vacation.
***
A little time spent on the Internet turns up everything I need to know. Robert is a counselor at a science and art program in northern Arizona. The camp is in session right now.
From the website gallery, I gather the camp has a few cabins and not much else. The hardest part will be sneaking around without being caught. Camp clearings don't offer a lot of places to hide.
I'll figure it out when I get there. I always do.
I punch the address into my phone GPS, double check I still have the benzo, and hit the road. Evening will have fallen by the time I arrive. Add on a few hours cursing the woodland trails until I find the camp, and Robert should be nestling down into his sleeping bag by the time I make an entrance.
Except for a pit stop at a convenience store for coffee, I drive straight through. My GPS is better than my intel lately and even guides me along the backwoods dirt roads. I park right before turning into the camp, then trek up the hill and scope out the situation.
Four cabins sit side by side. At either end of the camp stands a building. In the middle, a campfire surrounded by a dozen preteens wearing shorts and t-shirts. They're talking, laughing, bumping each other in the legs. A few nearby counselors put away skewers and hotdog buns, then gather in front of the kids.
“Time for songs,” a man says.
He's not Robert. I haven't even seen Robert yet, but he has to be here.
I can't fail twice in a row. That's just not going to happen.
Since I have nothing to do until the happy campers are nestled into bed, I sprawl out in the pine needles on the ground and stare up at the dark sky. Stars are much brighter outside of the city. Syd probably knows why.
The kids begin singing. I tuck my hands behind my head and close my eyes. The voices sound so young. When I was this age, I found out my life belonged to Karl. I didn't even know what that meant, but I was scared of him for all of two weeks. Then life went back to normal.
When my turn came, I wanted to tell someone, talk to someone. There wasn't anyone. Not even Silvia—especially Silvia—could relate.
I grew to resent the loneliness.
That changed when I experienced first-hand what a wish does to our brains. Now I'm just thankful no one else is like me. The world has enough monsters.
After the campers finish up their songs, they trail their way to the four cabins and disappear inside. Another thirty minutes or so passes, and a counselor goes by and makes sure all the cabin indoor lights are off. Then the counselors sit around the campfire like it's the office water cooler.
I roll onto my stomach, use my arm as a pillow, and wait.
The counselors talk. They eat. They talk some more.
Then they pour dirt on the campfire and head toward one of the larger buildings. I push up to my knees.
Robert. He is among them. He's a pretty tall dude. Easy to keep track of now that I've spotted him.
I'm vewy, vewy quiet as I pull to a crouch and fix my sight on my prey. My hands are itching to stab a needle into his veins. Maybe he'll like the benzos. Jesse sure does.
They just make me sleep. I don't really see the point, considering I can do that without treating my arm like a pin cushion.
My brain catches up with what I'm watching, and my heart slams.
I have a problem.
All five counselors share a single cabin.
I have no idea how to get to Robert.
Another twenty minutes passes before I'm convinced everyone is inside for the night. I make my way down the hill and come up behind the staff cabin. A window sits high on the side and another sits at the same height on the back. I stretch to peer through them, but I can't see anything.
If Robert is near the front, I might be able to stab a needle into his arm and lug him out without anyone noticing, but I doubt it. Doesn't matter, because I have no idea which bed is his. It's too dark to see inside, and the angle isn't helping.
I could take hostages, but that goes against the low key thing. The only other option rattling around my brain is convincing one of the kiddies to lure out Robert. That kind of goes against the whole not wanting to be a douche canoe thing though.