“Christ! It’s almost two in the morning.” He stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand. “What say we grab a little shut-eye.”
“You always were a pussy,” Tyler said. A wide grin split his face.
“Not really.” Jeff smiled back at him. “I was just always the sensible one. Unlike you, over the years I’ve learned to pace myself. I’m thinking about getting up early and taking a hike around the campgrounds.”
Even before he finished the sentence, a shiver took hold of him because he realized the first place he’d go would be down to the shore where the docks had been … where he had last seen Jimmy Foster dead on a stretcher.
“There’s not much left of things,” Evan said. “Everything’s so grown up. I could hardly figure out where the ball field was.”
“How ‘bout one more beer,” Mike said, and before anyone could respond, he started digging into his cooler.
“Can I snag one, too?” Fred asked. Without a word, Mike tossed a bottle of beer over to him.
“Anyone else?” Mike asked.
“You guys can stay up as late as you want,” Jeff said. “I’m a heavy sleeper. Your yacking won’t bother me.”
That was a total lie, but he wasn’t about to get between them and their fun. Truth was—especially since Susan left—he was lucky to get five hours of sleep a night.
Turning his back to the fireplace, he adjusted his sleeping pad and then fluffed up his sleeping bag and pillow. He was positioned off to one side, wanting to keep as close to the fire as he could in case it got really cold during the night. He remembered nights when they were campers when the temperature dropped down close to freezing. And that had been in July. He couldn’t imagine what an October night would be like, but he was about to find out.
Since there was no running water, he couldn’t wash up or brush his teeth … not unless he went down to the lake, and he wasn’t about to do that. Maybe in the morning he’d give it a try. After striping down to his boxer shorts and t-shirt, he slipped into the sleeping bag, shivering from the cool touch of the fabric. He put his head inside the sleeping bag and blew out several puffs of hot air, hoping to warm up quickly.
Once he was settled, though, Jeff wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He lay with his back to the fire and listened as his friends talked on into the night. The conversation wandered all over the place as they talked about their lives, their jobs, the people in their lives—wives, ex-wives, and kids—as well as sports and finances, where they went to college, and generally how they saw their lives going.
Jeff found it soothing to listen to them without having to participate, and he started dozing off as their voices rose and feel as regularly as the waves, washing against the sandy beach outside.
Eventually, their voices toned down and faded. Jeff wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep or if his friends were finally succumbing to sleep. Everybody had their limits.
* * *
Sometime later, Jeff awoke with a start.
It was still dark, but he heard … something out of the ordinary that had set off an alarm inside his head?
Holding his breath, he sat up and looked around.
The fire had burned down low, and the dining hall was much darker than it had been throughout the evening. It felt a lot colder, too. Shadows in the rafters looked thicker and seemed to be closer. Grunting softly, Jeff turned and looked at the fire. It was just a pile of glowing coals that cast a warm, vermilion glow. He looked at the mounded humps of his friends as they slept in their sleeping bags. They were arranged on the floor like the spokes of a wheel with the fire as the hub. One of them—he was sure it was Mike—was snoring with a series of loud, blubbering snorts.
But that wasn’t what had torn him from sleep.
He considered getting up and putting a few more logs on the fire, but he was nice and toasty where he was. He wished he could lie back down and go back to sleep, but he was still bothered by whatever had awakened him. After another moment or two, he realized what it was.