Page 6

“The gaze of the wolf reaches into our soul.” — Barry Lopez

Gwen

I lean forward in the passenger seat while squinting at the double yellow lines on the road. When the truck in front of us shines its headlight on the forest’s wet, bright foliage, I sigh. For a moment, I wondered if we had fallen into the Twilight Zone.

Unaware of my bizarre thoughts, Callie concentrates behind the wheel. The windshield wipers squeak across the glass, thump at the end, then repeat.

“Aren’t you excited?” Thank God, my friend starts up a conversation.

“A weekend free with no housework or emails sounds divine. Nevertheless, I will miss my family. If we’re lucky, we’ll find Dolly, have a grand laugh about how she said a weekend instead of a week, and proceed to enjoy our girl time.”

Nodding, Callie smiles broadly. “A few kid-free days… I should feel guilty, but I don’t. Lochlan is my rock. However, when it comes to discipline, he’s a wus. Sometimes I get tired of being the bad guy.”

“Well, he’ll need to step up his game.” Picturing her gentle yet fierce protector, I can see where he might want to project a softer image at home.

“Can you believe he’s talking about a fifth kid? I can barely juggle four, and that’s with a full-time nanny.” The horror on her face makes me laugh until I picture myself in the same situation.

Knowing how completely she loves her kids, I pat her arm. “I have only one. Even she can be overwhelming. Why not tell him no?”

Her eyes widen. “Hello? Earth to Gwen? Youhavemet my husband, right? So, enough about us. Have you guys talked about having a baby?”

“We’re trying, but nothing yet. We also discussed going to a specialist… Do you know how much IVF costs? We recently bought a new home. We can’t possibly take on more debt.”

A ringing phone interrupts our conversation. Callie reaches to the dash to push a button. “Sam? Is that you?”

“I have you on speaker. My cousins, Rose and Mia, are here too. We tried to get Andy’s wife to come, but she’s on tour. We did get Blake. She’s renting a car in Philly and will meet us there.”

“Did any of the spouses give you flack about coming?” My question causes an uncomfortable silence, which I presume means yes.

After a few more seconds, the private eye curses under her breath. “Not a word. We all agree. The men caved in way too easily.”

Brows raised, Callie glances over the cupholder. “Do you think they’ll crash our party?”

One of Sam’s cousins answers. “Nah. Not sneaky enough. You mark my words, at least one of them will be stationed nearby.”

While I ponder the implications, the device in my pocket vibrates. Checking the caller ID, I swipe right across the screen. “Hey, momma-to-be, what’s shakin’?”

Lilac chuckles. “My ETA is one hour. Myhusbandis dropping me off. Say hi, Slate.”

If an eye roll was audible, we all just heard hers.

“Ladies.” With only one word, he conveys a warning, some anger, and a little warmth.

Damn, he’s good. While my inner Beyoncé applauds his skill, I picture him attending our baby shower and giggle to myself.

Pinching my nose, I mimic a condescending concierge. “Will you choose the mani-pedi, the facial massage, or both, sir?”

His snort holds no mirth. “I’ve checked into the nearest hotel in case mywifegoes intolabor.”

I’m shocked he managed a complete sentence, but the emergency room doctor with him is undoubtedly used to miracles. “Honey, I’m still four weeks away. I’ll be fine.”

When he grunts, she places her mouth closer to the mic. “Please ignore my grumpus. Thanks for doing this. I mean it. I can’t wait for some pampering.”

After we all hang up, the rain comes down harder and we slow to a crawl. By the time we arrive at the spa, the deluge has stopped, but huge puddles remain in the middle of the parking lot.

Inside the massive white building, a smiling brown woman in a sari greets us, then leads us to a wall of lockers. “Leave your computers, phones, and electronics, as well as your purses. You won’t be needing them.”

“Hold on.” Callie hugs her Gucci satchel. “But my makeup is in here.”

The East Indian woman hands her a plastic bag. “Take what you need. Store the rest.”

Wishing I had pepper spray instead of my prototype, I turn my back to the security camera in order to stash the tiny, lipstick-shaped RF weapon, in my pocket along with one spare battery.

Once we’ve finished handing over our stuff, I mention the presents we left in the car.

As I start to leave, she stands in front of the door. “Give me your keys. I’ll make sure your parcels are brought up.”

The lady, her nametag reads Melissa Graham, smiles sweetly, holds out her hand, and adds a fake tinkling laugh. “Don’t worry. This is all part of the stress-free experience.”

So, why am I freaking out, bitch?

Heart racing, I shoot Callie a worried glance which she returns. I guess we could bail, but everyone would be disappointed and for what?

As we trudge up the steep, muddy path, our tour guide points out a prefab building. “And there is the massage room. The shooting range is there. The cafeteria for your daily meals is behind the registration desk. Your cabin has a microwave for snacks, a fridge, and a coffee maker. Help yourself, it’s all included.”

Once she leaves, I hang up my coat on a peg. Each of the four bedrooms has two sets of bunk beds, a closet, and a small dresser. “I feel like we’re in summer camp.”

Callie grimaces. “More like a horror flick where everyone but the main character dies.”

“I call dibs on the protagonist who lives.” When I raise my hand, she shakes her head.

“Then I get to be Freddy Krueger.” The mood lightened, she opens the refrigerator and holds forth a bottle of wine. “Well, I'll be dipped. We have alcohol, woo-hoo.”

A few minutes later, Samantha Sutcliff enters with her two cousins, Mia and Rose.

The taller one huffs and puffs. “I can’t believe they took our bags.”

The scowling PI removes her jacket, displaying her empty shoulder holster. “Fuck. I should’ve read the fine print. I feel naked without my pistol. Could you believe that concierge lady? Her stupid smile wasn’t fooling anyone. At least she let me keep my flashlight.”

While she tests the LED setting, we claim our rooms. The two sisters squabble about the top bunk before Suds' wife agrees to take it. “If I fall out and die, I swear I’m coming back to haunt you until the end of days.”

“Me and Callie will take the room across the hall.” With my suitcase on the lower berth, I walk to the window. “Hey, you guys, Lilac’s here.”

Once we finish our group hug, a gong sounds from the bottom of the hill. Not long after, we wait in line, holding our dinner trays. Men in full camo gear silently eat their meals at the far side of the room.

Leaning closer, Sam whispers in my ear. “I don’t think they’re here to have their nails manicured. Time to do a little private investigation. Cover for me.”

Before I can suggest a safer alternative, she disappears. Now, I understand how she earned her"danger magnet"moniker. Separating from the pack made my top ten list of not-to-do’s.

As she walks out the door, a woman in pearls, heels, and a designer suit takes her place.

“Blakely!” The rest shout in unison.

After a brief embrace they introduce her to me. We all have so much in common, we chat nonstop. By the time the conversation dies down, the militiamen no longer occupy the far corner of the dining hall. Only then do I pull out a picture of Dolly to show it around.

A girl washing dishes, barely past her teens, nods. “I remember her. She said she was writing a sci-fi book about people living on the moon.”

Before she can say more, Melissa, the greeter, opens the front door and claps her hands. “Ladies, you are late.”

She points to a seven-foot, swinging pendulum grandfather clock. Once all our heads turn, she opines, “In the future, please check your itineraries. Now, follow me.”

Later, Sam sneaks in line to join us. Eyes laser-focused, she pulls a virtual zipper across her mouth to stop me from asking questions.

The meeting room, about the size of a basketball court, contains roughly two dozen chairs facing a raised wooden platform.

Another spa group, twice our numbers, glowers at us when we walk in. A suited TED-talk man on the stage smiles, holding a sharpie beside a newsprint pad of paper. In block red letters, the word Survival is written over his hand-drawn atomic cloud.

Say what? This your idea of a day spa? While my shoulder angel chastises me, the man in front of the room introduces himself. Dr. James Lewis graduated magna cum laude from Yale, or so he says. How the hell would I know? It’s not like anyone has access to the internet to fact-check him.

The longer he speaks, the more I fidget and wish to go home. Who knew there were so many end-of-the-world scenarios? According to him, at any minute, we could be wiped out by climate change, asteroids, nuclear war, or someone poisoning our water supply. The list goes on and on. By the time he finishes, I’m shaking.

So much for a relaxing retreat. What the actual fuck?

Not done scaring the shit out of us, Mr. TED Talk flips to the next piece of paper. “Mere hours after a significant event, people will loot. This will escalate to killing to survive. Experts say it will take less than a week for those lacking a hive to die.”

He appears to take joy in our horror. “But don’t worry. We are your hive. We have food, water, and generators. We have everything you and your families will need. Armed men will protect our perimeters. The forest has plenty of animals for hunting. Community gardens will provide the vegetation. We have canning facilities and wood-burning stoves. We have a self-contained sewage composting plant. You will not only survive, but you will flourish. We will create a new generation of Americans who can withstand those who would steal their future.”

Reaching his frenzied last note, he bows. “Thank you. We only have a few openings left. Once we have reached our capacity, no more will be allowed in.”

When the applause dies down, Dr. Lewis approaches our group. “I hope you enjoyed my presentation.”

Shoulder Beyoncéinstantly grumbles. I’d rather have a wisdom tooth pulled.

Ignoring her, I pretend to gush enthusiasm. “When my neighbor, Dolly told me about this place, I simply had to come. I’m sure you remember her. She was here last week. White hair, round face, quiet?”

“Sorry, we have so many guests. It’s difficult to keep them all straight.” His paling face indicates I hit a nerve.

Turning to a tableful of stapled documents, he places a set in each of our hands. “We have extra discounts for Vets and those in law enforcement.”

Melissa, who appears from nowhere, doles out cheap blue pens. “We require your husbands’ signatures as well. This allows us to move forward.”

Hard sell much? I smile sweetly. “My spouse and I don’t sign anything unless the other one agrees. Sorry.”

After my friends decline using similar reasoning, Blake winks. “Excellent try, Dr. Lewis. We can find our way back to our rooms. Come on, ladies, we need our beauty sleep.”

Linking arms, we march toward the exit. At the door, I glance back at the red-faced man. I get the distinct feeling that not many people say no to Dr. Lewis.