text: Somehow you manage to back out of the driveway without hitting any trees, but even with the headlights you can barely see the road. The rain makes vision impossible past twenty feet ahead, and the gravel surface is strewn with leaves, twigs, and small branches. The idea of giving their car a jump seems less of a good idea, all of a sudden.
  
  "I haven't seen a storm like this since I was a kid!" Charlei says.
  
  "'Admire me, admire my home; admire my son, he's my clone!'" Gordy sings from the back seat, with a spontaneity that seems out of character for him. It takes you a moment to realize that Pearl Jam is still playing on the stereo. The music is an unnecessary distraction as far as you're concerned, and your hand reflexively moves to turn it off. "No, don't!" he interjects. "I love this song. 'This land is free; I'll do what I want but irre-spon-sib-ly!'"
  
  Then Charlei joins in: "'Because it's evolution, baby!'"
  
  Instead of turning it off, she turns up the volume so that Eddie Vedder is now growling over the rain. The windshield blades are beating out of sync with the rhythm of the music as you inch down the road.
  
  "You've got a good sound system, Al," Gordy says, but you realize it's not really a compliment but rather an indictment of some kind. Here he is, grooving out to a song that is basically a screed against a materialist society, and here you are chauffeuring him in a truck that probably cost more than his entire annual salary. "'Those ignorant Indians got nothin' on me!'"
  
  It takes forever to drive just a quarter of a mile. When you round the first major bend in the road and see no broken-down vehicles ahead, you feel let down.
  
  "Where did you say your car is?" you ask, but your passengers are lost in the song. "'I am ahead, I am advanced, I am the first mammal to make plans, yeah! I crawled the earth but now I'm higher; 2010, watch it go to fire!'"
  
  When the song is over Charlei turns off the CD player. "I'm sorry, Al. Did you say something?"
  
  "Yes. How much farther is your car?" The pounding of the rain now seems like a welcoming change.
  
  "Oh, I can't remember. It was around here somewhere. Right, Gordy?"
  
  Gordy retreats back into his former moodiness and merely shrugs his response. You see the gesture in your rearview mirror.
  
  "There it is, right there!" Charlei is excitedly pointing out the side window — not to the side of the road, but to a driveway.
  
  You immediately hit the brakes and throw the truck into reverse, backing up the fifty feet or so by which you overshot the driveway. You know the place; this leads up to the camp owned by the Coopers. Without saying anything, you shift back into drive and steer the truck up the driveway. It is cluttered with branches, but nothing that the F150 can't handle.
  
  The Goodcheer-Fellows say nothing either. It is as if they are letting you observe the scene and draw your own conclusions. The Coopers have an A-frame that is about a hundred feet off the road. Built back in the seventies, this is one of the few camps on the road that was never a homestead, or even the site of one. Ray and Mindy live in New Jersey and get up here only a few times a year, and you wouldn't expect to see them now. But as you navigate the driveway, you see a tan Dodge Ram parked in front. It's the only vehicle here.
  
  A chill comes over you. "That's yours?" you say, pointing with your chin toward the truck. You play innocent, but you know full well that's Ray Cooper's truck.
  
  "Uh-huh," Charlei says, nodding. She is watching you intently, as if to gauge your reaction.
  
  The A-frame is completely dark, but the door has blown wide open in the wind. Despite the presence of the truck, you can't tell if anyone is here or not. There are no lights on anywhere, other than your own headlights. Coming upon the place in these conditions is like discovering the wreck of the Titanic. It looks silent and empty, but it speaks of violence and death.
  
  Obviously, you're in a situation here, although you can only guess at the gravity. No one seems to be directly threatening you, so maybe the way out of this predicament is to play along. You came here on the pretense of giving their car a cable jump, so maybe that's what you should proceed to do, hoping that Gordy and Charlei then continue on their way.
  
  On the other hand, you are outnumbered and unarmed here. If your passengers are as dangerous as you now suspect them to be, you may need to find a way to even the odds. Ray Cooper keeps a collection of shotguns and deer rifles here, and you know exactly where they are stored. Perhaps you should insist on "checking" the camp first.
  
  > check on the camp.
  "Shoot, you know what?" you say. "I don't have my jumper cables on me!"
  
  "Al, no!" Charlei says. "You're killing me here!"
  
  "It's true," you continue. "I took them out last week when I was cleaning out the truck. I forgot to put them back, left them in my garage back home."
  
  It's a complete lie; the cables are directly underneath you. You always keep them under the driver's seat, but these two twits don't know that. What you need, though, is an excuse to go up to the cabin.
  
  "That doesn't sound like you at all!" she says, as if she's known you for years. "So what are we going to do?"
  
  "It just so happens I know the people who own this camp."
  
  "This camp?"
  
  "Yes, Ray and Mindy Cooper. From Paterson, New Jersey. Do you know them?"
  
  "No, that doesn't sound familiar," she says.
  
  But you're the ones who led me here! you think. "Nice people, although I haven't seen them since last summer. But I know right where Ray Cooper keeps a set of jumper cables of his own."
  
  "They wouldn't mind—" Charlei says, but Gordy has been growing increasingly restless in the back seat, as if growing tired of this charade, and so he interrupts her. "Fine, just do what you got to do, and let's get on with it."
  
  You look back at him, but as before there is not much to see in the shadows. Does he know what you're trying to do? It's difficult to read him, and you have a vague hunch that he might not be anything like your original assessment: an ineffectual fop. His brusqueness aside, though, he does have a point: best to keep the games at a minimum and proceed with your plan.
  
  "You two just wait here. I'll only be a minute."
  
  You open the door and the dome light comes on, illuminating both of your companions. It occurs to you that you are about to place a great deal of trust in them, leaving them alone with your truck — especially after that odd interest they took in it a few minutes ago. But that doesn't seem to be their game, not at the moment. Right now, their attention is focused on you.
  
  The Goodcheer-Fellows don't say anything further as you slide out of the seat and onto the rainy ground. You close the door behind you, the rain pelting you once again. What are you doing all this for again? This is a hell of a night to be running around on fool errands! Then you see the Ram that your companions just tried to convince you was theirs, and you see the open door to the A-frame. You remember all the math that isn't adding up.
  
  The Ford's headlights show you the way: a short, winding walkway leading up a slight incline to the door of the Coopers' camp, recessed into its steeply-pitched roof. It might've just blown open with the wind; given Bob's ferocity tonight, that is entirely plausible. But something tells you that's not why the door is open — that Charlei and Gordy have already been here, and there's something here they want you to find.
  
  On the other hand, what you really want is not inside the camp, but around back. Ray Cooper's gun cabinet is in a utility room tacked on like a lean-to to the rear of the A-frame, most easily reached through a separate entrance. And since any jumper cables Ray might have laying around would be in that utility room too, that seems like the more prudent place to go.
  
  As you are pondering these options, you hear the doors of the truck closing behind you. Turning, you see Charlei and Gordy following you up the walkway.
  
  "We want to help!" Charlei says.
  
  > enter the A-frame through the open door.
  The open door seems to be the most obvious place to look; if Ray and Mindy had been here — or are still here — the best place to find them would be inside their camp.
  
  "How strange that someone left the door open!" Charlei says, running past you to get inside, out of the rain. Gordy hesitates for a second, but then stiffly follows her, trotting awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as if to keep them dry.
  
  When you join them inside, Charlei is calling out in the darkness. "Hello! Is anybody here?"
  
  There is no response except for a tinny echo off the high ceiling. The glow of your headlights is shining through a pair of large windows, which flank a large fireplace at the tall, gable end of the A-frame. It is enough to illuminate the silhouettes of the furniture in the den.
  
  "I don't think anyone's home," Gordy says.
  
  Then why is Ray's truck here? you think. There is a shelf beside the door with basic emergency supplies, and one of them is a hefty Black & Decker flashlight. You pick it up, and it feels loaded with D batteries. Flipping the switch, it throws a pallid beam of light into the room.
  
  Indeed, the place seems to be in disarray, but not in the way you've been expecting. Nature has been running amok here tonight, but you see no immediate signs of a struggle. The floor is strewn with small twigs still bearing tufts of green pine needles, leaves with their whitish undersides tipped up, and old issues of Adirondack Life blown from a shelf and soaking up the rain water on the floor. But aside from being wet and covered with leaves, the seventies-vintage sofa and chairs all seem to be where they are supposed to be.
  
  "What a mess!" Charlei says. "I wonder how the door got opened?"
  
  "Probably blew open with the wind," Gordy says.
  
  "Makes sense."
  
  You have your doubts, obviously, so you shine the light on the door. But it looks perfectly fine, with no evidence that anyone forced it open. There are no broken panes of glass, no scars on the jamb to suggest the lock was pried apart. Strangely, you feel disappointed by this discovery... until you remember that Charlei and Gordy never forced their way into the Bear's Den, either. You let them in.
  
  Charlei sees a set of light switches on the wall, just below the shelf of emergency items. "Why don't you just turn those on?" she says. "Why the flashlight?"
  
  "It wouldn't work," you say.
  
  "Are you sure?"
  
  "Well, yeah. All the camps on this road are off the grid. The Coopers run this place off a generator out back. Someone would have to go out in the rain to start it."
  
  "Look at Al, drawing conclusions so easily," she says to her husband. She steps over and flips one of the switches, and a light suspended over the den snaps to life.
  
  "See, Al? And you think you know everything." Charlei continues to flip each of the remaining switches, with corresponding lights coming on in the kitchenette and over the path to the driveway, just outside the door that had been left open.
  
  "Much better than that old flashlight!" Gordy says. "That thing is probably as old as I am."
  
  Rather self-consciously, you turn the Black & Decker off and return it to the shelf, both Goodcheer-Fellows watching you with amusement. The presence of the lights adds to the mystery, as there is no way they could be on unless someone had already been here to turn on the generator in the first place.
  
  "So what are we looking for again?" Gordy says.
  
  "A set of jumper cables, remember?" Charlei says. "Al said he forgot to bring his own."
  
  "Oh, yeah. I wonder where they could be?"
  
  "I'll bet they're in that storage room out back," she says.
  
  This is yet another two-person skit being put on for your benefit. You're positive now that the they've been here before and already know their way around.
  
  None of this is going as planned, however. You had wanted to come here alone, at the very least to find one of Ray Cooper's guns, but maybe also to look around and check on your neighbors. Having Gordy and Charlei follow you wasn't part of the original plan.
  
  Gordy sees your eyes scanning the den, from the fireplace to the kitchenette, and up a spiral staircase to the sleeping loft above. "Al thinks there must be something wrong here."
  
  "What a considerate neighbor, keeping an eye on the place!" Charlei squeals. "But it doesn't look like anybody's here."
  
  "It's hard to say."
  
  These two are a real piece of work, you're certain of that much now. Together they are trying to do everything they can to push your buttons — and it is everything you can do to not lose your cool. You make a quick assessment once again: Gordy looks lanky, and rather silly in that soaking-wet vest he's wearing; Charlei looks like she could hit a mean softball. But you still can't determine how these observations add up to a physical threat to your safety. And yet you are becoming increasingly convinced that they do.
  
  "So, Al, where are these jumper cables you need?" Charlei says. "Am I right, are they in the storage room? Can we help you look?"
  
  "Maybe he wants to look around the place more and set his mind at ease," Gordy tells her.
  
  "I don't know what he hopes to find," she says.
  
  "He might not like what he finds," Gordy replies, as if correcting her. "If I were him, I most certainly would not go up those spiral stairs!"
  
  Is that it, then? Is that where you'll find Ray and Mindy Cooper — up the stairs?
  
  > go up the stairs.
  Obviously, you aren't the only person here under false pretenses, and jumper cables are the least of anybody's concerns right now. If the Goodcheer-Fellows aren't taking you seriously, then maybe you need to start taking them more seriously. They've been up to something here, and it's up to you to figure out what.
  
  So without saying anything more to your companions, you stride over to the base of the spiral staircase and begin climbing it, two steps at a time.
  
  Your companions immediately break out into laughter — loud, hilarious laughter. "Oh, Al!" Charlei says as the two of them settle down on a sofa with an oak frame and green cushions below you in the den. To them, this whole thing is clearly a game, and you apparently just made the most obvious move.
  
  Telling yourself you don't care what they think, you fly up the stairs, which are still dripping with rain water. But what you find at the top is a let down: a queen-sized bed with some disheveled sheets, but no bodies or bloodstains. Someone slept here recently, but no one died here.
  
  "Any jumper cables up there, Al?" Gordy says, interrupting his own squealing laughter.
  
  "Are we keeping you up? Maybe you want to lie down on that bed and take a nap?" Charlei adds.
  
  None of this is adding up, which is of course what you've been thinking since these two ass wipes first started bickering back in the Bear's Den. There is something here you are clearly not getting. What is it? What are you missing?
  
  Frankly, you feel intimidated by the husband and wife waiting for you downstairs in the den, and you are not eager to rejoin them. You find a lamp beside the bed and turn it on so you can take a better look at the contents of this loft, but your attention is divided by the banter down on the sofa.
  
  "Oh, this night has been too fun," Gordy is saying.
  
  "Well I'm glad you're having a good time," Charlei replies, still giggling. "You were looking pretty grim for a while there, Gordon."
  
  "It was a good idea to investigate that light down the road. I had no idea anyone else was out here."
  
  "Al was quite the find. He was so game to just go along with us. I always find that enjoyable."
  
  "You're right," Gordy agrees. "He's gamey. Aren't you, Al: you're gamey!"
  
  They have been making no attempt to lower their voices, but those last words were shouted up toward the loft: you're gamey, like a black bear or a wild turkey. At that minute you realize what you really are: trapped. The only way out of this bedroom, of course, is the spiral staircase, and the Goodcheer-Fellows are sitting right at the bottom. There is no way you could leave this place without your tormentors making it difficult for you to do so.
  
  "He's not responding," Gordy says to his wife. "Maybe he's not going to play along anymore."
  
  There is a desperation to your situation. Your original motivation for entering this camp was to find one of the Coopers' guns. Ray and Mindy are self-described "2Aers," proponents of the constitutional right to bear arms, convinced that if necessary they could shoot their way out of any predicament. Most of the camp owners on this road, including those who only come here to hunt in the fall, would never dream of leaving a prized shotgun or deer rifle behind in a camp that is occupied just a few months out of the year. But these particular neighbors had fetish-like notions about matters of self-defense, and so you wouldn't be surprised if they had some little handgun squirreled away up here beside their bed.
  
  If so, you'd like to have it right now. You don't know what's become of Ray and Mindy, or if they ever got the chance to live out their shared fantasy of shooting lawfully at an intruder. But even if they didn't, you have a hunch you might have such an opportunity yourself in the very near future.
  
  Where would such a handgun be, assuming it existed? In a very convenient place, most likely. Looking around the bedroom, all you really notice that's out of place are a pink T-shirt and some white shorts lying crumpled on the floor, as if Mindy Cooper had been up here recently changing into a different outfit. You turn back toward the lamp you clicked on a moment ago, located on a nightstand beside the bed. The top drawer is half open and slightly askew, almost like the door to the camp had been. Pulling it all the way open, you find a few loose bullet casings inside, but no gun.
  
  "Looking for this?"
  
  You jump at the sound of Gordy's voice, shaking the nightstand and knocking the lamp over. It tumbles to the floor, the porcelain body shattering as the light flickers out forever.
  
  "Al, you're so jumpy!" he says, stifling another laugh at your expense.
  
  "Only because you're so creepy, you bastard," you say. He is standing at the top of the stairs, framed by the twin drawn-open privacy curtains. With the demise of the lamp, he is now a silhouette backlit by the hanging light in the den.
  
  "Creepy? Bastard? It seems so puerile to be tossing about insults, isn't it?"
  
  "Then what do you want?" you say.
  
  "I assumed you were looking for this," Gordy says. He is holding something in front of him, and when he realizes you can't see the object in the shadows he briefly holds it off to the side. For a second, you can clearly make out the shape of a little snub-nosed pistol in his right hand. "Don't worry about the previous owner, Mrs. New Jersey. What did you say her name was?"
  
  "Mindy Cooper."
  
  "Right. She won't be needing this anymore."
  
  There is no emotion in his voice — or rather, there is no heightened emotion. To him, this must be like a normal conversation, as if you were two people deciding whether or not to order pizza or something. Gordy's calm control of the situation — which includes him pointing the little revolver at you — sets your own heart rate into overdrive. You see no sign of Charlei.
  
  When you don't respond, Gordy continues. "You know, it's funny. Like you, Mrs. New Jersey probably thought keeping this gun by her bed would save her life one day. How ironic she's gone now, and I'm the one holding it. Fat lot of good it did her."
  
  "So what is it you want from me?" you say, hoping there is still a chance you can talk your way out of this loft.
  
  "Oh, don't worry about that, Al. Charlei and I already have what we want. I just came up here to tell you the game is over and we're letting you go free."
  
  For a split second you are encouraged by the words "go free," but it seems Gordy has a different concept of their meaning than you do. He squeezes the trigger and a light flashes from the stumpy muzzle of the handgun. The round strikes you in the chest, sending you tripping backwards over Mindy Cooper's shorts and falling onto her unmade bed.