Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
T he next morning, I put on some old clothes I didn’t mind getting paint spilled on and a pair of comfortable shoes, then mapped the address Gary sent me. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilization. The kind of place you would invite someone if you didn’t want anyone to hear their screams. My first thought was to revisit my Gary is a serial killer theory.
“If I don’t come back later, call the police,” I told Purrfect. The look on her face made it clear she was perfectly content to let my dead body rot in the woods, never to be found.
I had to take a series of dirt roads to get there. Pine trees stretched for miles. For a serial killer looking for a secluded place to lure their prey, it was perfect. The GPS finally brought me to a log cabin with a green roof. A boardwalk trailed off into the woods. There was a post next the building, with a sign attached to the post. The sign read, “Nature Center.”
“God damn it,” I said, to no one in particular.
I got out of my car wearing the painter overalls Gary had let me borrow, the ones I had not yet returned. Even though I was wearing old clothes, I figured the overalls would provide an additional layer of protection, considering my track record with paint.
Before I even got all the way out of my car, I was drenched with sweat. It was the kind of day when the bright sun reached down from the blue sky and punched you in the face. The air smelled like swamp. Blood plump mosquitoes buzzed my head like I was a giant monkey on top of a skyscraper. In the trees, I spotted a flock of buzzards, waiting for the next thing to die.
I found Gary dousing himself in bug spray, leaning against the handrail along the boardwalk. He was dressed in a floppy hat, cargo shorts, a long-sleeved sun shirt, and hiking boots with neon yellow laces. I think he was going for a big game hunter out on safari look, except instead of lions and tigers, it was squirrels and butterflies.
“This isn’t a painting job, is it?”
Gary slowly shook his head, the smile on his face widening. “I didn’t think you’d show.” He looked down at my shoes. I was wearing my brand new white pickleball sneakers, the most comfortable footwear I owned. I figured when we started painting, I would take them off and go barefoot.
“You’re going to want to change out of those,” Gary said. “They have rubbers you can borrow inside.”
Blink
“This really is a pro boner job isn’t it?”
“Rubber boots,” Gary clarified. “Like snow boots.”
In the distance, a bird screeched. Like a hawk gutting a mouse. Entrails hanging from its claws.
“Funny, when I was listening to the radio on my way over, I didn’t hear them mention anything about a blizzard.” I looked up to check the sky, just in case. The sun was like a heat lamp slowing, roasting the entire state like a rotisserie chicken. Or rotisserie flamingo, since it was Florida.
“It’s not snow you have to worry about, it’s mud. You got anything on under those?” Gary tilted his head toward my overalls. His overalls, technically.
“I can’t help but wonder what answer you’re hoping for,” I teased. I surprised myself when I realized I was pleased when he blushed.
On the drive over, I had repeated the mantra “please Mary, just be nice, please Mary, just be nice” a thousand times, out loud, to coerce my brain into submission. I needed to stay on Gary’s good side. And I would not let the temperature, bugs, or Gary’s lack of disclosure sour my mood.
I stripped off the overalls, revealing the shorts and old t-shirt I was willing to sacrifice to the paint gods.
“I thought you didn’t like Justin Bieber.” Gary pointed to my shirt, which featured a tattooed Justin on the front, and at a bunch of concert cities and dates on the back. At least this time I was wearing a bra.
“I have yours back at the house,” I said. “This is the only shirt I own that I don’t mind getting splattered with paint.”
“You really hate Justin Bieber, don’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
The truth was, I had no intention of ever helping Gary paint. I only wore the old clothes to make him think I was going to help. Then I was going to fake an injury or something. Really, all I wanted was a chance to talk.
“I hope you’re not allergic to mosquitos.” Gary tossed me the bug spray. “Or bees.”
A sense of impending doom started buzzing around in my head. Like a mosquito. Or bees. “What exactly are we doing here, anyway?” I eyed the dense thickets of trees surrounding us. I was fairly certain it was the location where they filmed that movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, the one where the grizzly bear mauled him and left him for dead.
“Nature hike.” Gary’s voice was supernaturally chipper for someone who had just uttered the words nature and hike in the same sentence. “Come on, the other chaperones are inside with the kids.”
“Kids?” I preferred the thought of hiking with grizzly bears.
* * *
The inside of the cabin looked like something straight out of a horror house. The first thing I saw when I stepped inside was a stuffed bear in a glass case, jaw gaping and claws poised for attack.
But the bear wasn’t the only dead animal in the room. A coyote, an otter, a raccoon, and an owl all stared back at me with dead black eyes, a slight smile on their frozen faces. Like they knew what was coming and couldn’t wait to watch.
“Okay everybody, start gathering your groups!” A uniformed park ranger, Sarah, according to her name badge, tried to wrangle the children that were running and jumping all over the room. I can’t say which was more horrific, the dead animals or the screaming children. “Everyone settle down.” Sarah waved her hands in vain. “Please.”
A little freckled girl squealed as she knocked a porcupine off a display case. Quills scattered like buckshot.
“Dad!” a small voice rang out. I turned just in time to see a little boy charge toward us. I barely had time to duck as he leaped at Gary. His tiny arms wrapped around Gary’s neck in a chokehold. They wrestled. Fighting for his very life, Gary flipped the kid over and set him on the ground. Then Gary gave the little boy a noogie.
“Dad, did you see the snakes?” The boy dashed back over to his compatriots, who were banging on glass cases filled with large, hairy spiders and poisonous looking snakes.
“Dad? You have a kid?”
“His name is Kyle.” For some reason, Gary seemed proud.
“You didn’t tell me you had a kid.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Kyle reached into one of the aquariums and pulled out a snake. I assumed it wasn’t a poisonous one, or if it was, some responsible adult would intervene.
“He just turned eight.”
I looked at the pandemonium swirling around me. When I first entered the cabin, Ranger Sarah had been a young, perky brunette. I had a feeling by the end of the day, she would be completely grey. “So this job you tricked me into, what exactly are we doing?”
“Field trip chaperone.” Gary swept his arm across the surrounding mayhem. “As you can see, they could use the help.”
As I would later learn, the Summer Ultimate Kids Camp was one of the best summer camps for six to twelve-year-olds in all of Central Florida. Or, more specifically, it was the only summer camp that was affordable and still had an open spot left by the time Gary realized summer camps fill up quickly and he better get off his ass and make a reservation.
The Summer Ultimate Kids Camp had a sports day, a movie day, a creative arts day, and if it wasn’t raining, they rigged up the slip and slide every Friday. Best of all, there was a weekly field trip. Each new destination was more amazing than the last. For example, the trip to the zoo, where one year Happy the hippo got it on with Helga in front of the entire class. Entertaining and educational. Then there was the trip to the water park. The one with the Raging River, the Lazy River, and what the camp counselors christened the River of Pee, because that’s where they let the preschoolers swim.
But of all the field trips, throughout the entire summer, the trip to the Nature Park was the one trip every single child looked forward to … the least. Inevitably, someone got stung by a wasp, someone passed out from heatstroke, or someone lost a shoe in the mud. That’s why there was plenty of room for another chaperone.
I looked around the room of dead animals and screaming children, the horrific reality of my situation fully sinking in. One eye on the exit door, I told Gary, “I have limited experience with kids.”
“Really? I never would have guessed,” Gary deadpanned. “It’s easy. If you see a kid in one of those orange shirts…”
I realized all the children were wearing matching orange shirts.
Gary continued, “Just tell them to sit down, shut up, or keep their hands to themself. Watch.” Gary pointed to a kid wearing an orange shirt, carrying an alligator skull, chasing other kids around the room. “Maxwell, keep your hands to yourself!”
Maxwell ignored him, gnashing the jaws of the skull up and down to make it bite another kid’s face.
Gary frowned. “Okay, so I’m not exactly a pro myself. Speaking of pros …”
A woman walked over. “Hey Gary, who’s this?” She was holding the hand of a little girl who looked the same age as Kyle.
Gary introduced us. “Mary, this is Karen, Karen, this is Mary.” Gary stepped back, as if he had just combined potassium chlorate and sulfuric acid and was waiting for the explosion.
Karen was wearing one of those mom hats, with the mom visor. She also wore mom shorts. Mom shoes. And a mom shirt. A fanny pack strapped around her waist completed the ensemble.
Karen stuck out her hand. I shook it firmly. The smile on her face never moved.
“Karen is the other chaperone in our group,” Gary explained.
“This is my daughter Cary.” Cary stared at me unimpressed, the same look I got from Purrfect. “Which one is your son or daughter?” Karen asked.
“None of them, thankfully. I don’t have any kids. I’m just along for the ride.”
It took Karen a moment to process this news. “Lovely.” Karen said the word ‘lovely” but the tone in her voice suggested something else entirely. Still, the smile never moved.
“Okay everyone, who’s ready to start exploring!” Ranger Sarah had pulled out her megaphone, a sound strategy if she had any hope of being heard over the cacophony of noise. Even better than a whistle. A cheer erupted from the children. A groan erupted from the adults.
As we made our way toward the exit, I pulled Gary aside. “Remember, you and I need to talk.”
“Plenty of time along the way,” Gary reassured me.
As we stepped outside, Ranger Sarah handed us orange T-shirts that matched the ones the campers were wearing. “So we know who’s in our group. You can change in the restrooms around the corner.”
“Great!” said Karen.
“Great!” I said. Although I tried, I couldn’t quite match Karen’s zeal.
* * *
After changing into our new T-shirts, I joined Karen in front of the bathroom mirror. I squinted a bit, like when you peek at an eclipse, just in case the bright orange color seared my retinas.
“These shirts suck,” I said.
“What did you just say?” Karen furrowed her eyebrows.
“These shirts.” I pinched the material near my shoulders. “They suck,” I said again.
Although I didn’t mean to offend her, the look on Karen’s face made it clear she took it as a personal affront. “No, they don’t.”
“But they do.”
“They do not.” Karen gave me a look like I had just farted on a crowded elevator and then pressed the emergency stop button.
“They literally say suck.” I pointed at our reflections. Our bright orange shirts had the letters “S.U.K.C” emblazoned in neon yellow straight across the breast.
“That stands for Summer Ultimate Kids Camp,” Karen explained.
“That may be what it stands for,” I said, “but that’s not what it says.”
Karen and I stood quietly for several moments, reflecting on our reflections. I could tell Karen was trying to come up with a way to refute reality, but was coming up blank.
Finally Karen said, “We should join the others. I’m sure the kids are anxiously waiting.”
“I’m sure.”
We left the bathroom to join the anxiously waiting kids.
* * *
Throughout human history, there have been many grueling journeys filled with human suffering and strife. In 1521, Ponce de Leon trekked through alligator infested Florida swamps, battling the heat and humidity while searching for the Fountain of Youth. In 1804, Lewis and Clark marched 8,000 miles to the Pacific Ocean, traversing treacherous mountains and rivers, faced with deadly illness and dangerous wildlife. In 1846, members of the Donner Party’s tragic expedition endured blizzards and starvation, trapped in the Sierra Nevadas, ultimately forced to resort to cannibalism to survive.
Now I’m not saying the nature walk was anything like those terrible journeys. But I’m not saying it was un-like them either.
“Okay troops!” Gary pointed to the first line on the Nature Hike Checklist. “Our first mission is to find a ladybug and count its spots.”
“Yay!” Cary fast clapped.
“Cool!” Kyle pumped his fist.
“How fun!” Karen’s face beamed with delight.
It took all my effort to keep from vomiting. You see, the Summer Ultimate Kids Camp nature hike was not just an ordinary death march, it was a competition. As Ranger Sarah had said, “Like a scavenger hunt, except instead of collecting objects, you’re collecting observations.” When she said it, I really really really wanted to punch her in the crotch.
The nature hike comprised a series of trails crisscrossing the nature preserve. A letter marked each trail. We started on trail “A”. By the time we got to “Z”, our checklist would be complete.
“How do we know if it’s a ladybug?” Kyle asked.
“Oh, that’s easy,” I answered. “Just turn it over and look between its little bug legs.”
Karen gave me a dirty look. “We need to take this seriously, Mary. The first team back with all the correct answers wins a prize.”
“Maybe it’s a hat to match our shirts,” I said. “Or even better, a matching hat and matching socks. Then we would totally suck!” Gary, Karen, Kyle, and Cary all looked at me in their bright orange S.U.K.C shirts. None of them seemed amused.
Eventually we found a ladybug. I was going to turn it over, but after seeing Karen’s face, Gary shook his head and made a slashing motion across his throat.
When we counted the spots, I came up with eleven. Gary counted nine. We went with Karen’s number, which was seventeen. Then, when Karen saw Gary’s handwriting, she volunteered to write all future answers going forward. She also generously offered to hold the checklist for us and read all the questions. And although not verbally stated, but universally assumed, Karen would also take on the responsibility of answering all the questions, either with or without the input of the group. Preferably without.
We hiked from trail “A” to trail “B” answering more questions along the way. Trails “C” and “D” meandered along a small stream.
“Next question,” said Karen. “List three things that can make a stream’s water turn brown.” The stream beside the trail was indeed brown, the same color as iced tea.
“I know this one,” I said. “Fish poop. Frog poop.” I pointed to the river of tea. “Kids, what other animals poop in a river?”
“Beavers?” Kyle suggested.
“Excellent Kyle. Beavers. Beavers probably poop in the water all the time.” I turned to Karen. “Fish poop, frog poop, and beaver poop.”
Karen said, “I’m going to write leaves, sticks, and mud.” And that was the end of that.
I leaned in close to Kyle, “Speaking of sticks in the mud.” Kyle giggled.
“How about a little break?” Gary suggested, pointing to a couple of benches along the path. “I think some of us need a time out.” He looked at me when he said it.
Karen looked at her watch. “Maybe just a quick one. Five minutes. Tops.”