Four by MJ Preston

Author:MJ Preston [Preston, MJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948239714
Publisher: WildBlue Press
Published: 2020-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 17 – Cougar Spirit

1

17 November 2008

Camp Inspiration

Near Brandy, PA

Oscar Johnson wound his service truck up the snowy road unaware who he would be meeting that morning. He was angry; it was his day off, and they had called him after pulling three hours of overtime the previous night. He didn’t mind the extra money so much, who doesn’t after all, but he was exhausted and needed a day off to recharge his batteries. The other thing that had him steamed was the hour that they had called him at home; which was just after 2:55 in the goddamned morning! His supervisor, John Ahearn, said that one of the guys had caught the flu and couldn’t make it in on his callout shift. Oscar knew who had fucked him. That malingering fuck, Philip Webster.

Oscar agreed to come in, but he was still pissed. The last thing he did to bring on the mood was spilling his coffee all over the seat of the service truck. And that was because the county had bought the lowest end trucks they could. “Apparently, cup holders are a fucking option,” he grumbled, mopping up the mess with his scarf. “Not even a sip. Ahh, shit.”

The coffee had been an hour ago, and he was almost done with his rounds except for checking Camp Inspiration. His mood hadn’t lightened much since the coffee; he was still thinking about how Webster had fucked him on his day off. As he wound up the drive to the camp, he saw something that surprised him.

“What the fuck,” Oscar said as headlights filled the cab of the truck with milky fluorescence. Thinking it was kids, he said, “You little shits better not have broken into the place!” That would mean paperwork, reports, something Oscar Johnson didn’t want to deal with today.

The oncoming car stopped as he approached. His own headlights illuminated the interior of the car, lighting up the faces of kids. He relaxed a little. Probably just kids, out here smoking a little weed.

He lowered his driver’s side window, the snow crunching beneath wheels drowning out the idling engine of the waiting vehicle. The girl behind the wheel really was a kid, early twenties. He reached for the clipboard and pen sitting on the seat and pulled it closer. I’m going to have to do something, don’t want this biting me in the ass. He took note of the car’s license plate and scribbled it on the pad. Just in case they’re thieving bastards.

He rolled up next to the driver’s side window and it opened, revealing a pretty girl behind the wheel and the silhouette of a hippie kid in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” the hippie kid said, but he didn’t sound so much like a kid, but someone a little older.

Maybe later twenties, early thirties, Oscar thought, and said, “What’re you kids doing up here? This is private property.”

“We got hung up in the storm and came up here to sleep in the car for a few hours,” the passenger said.

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