Return to The Quarry

Chapter Three

The approach to the driveway that led to Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp always had a sort of hidden, out-of-the-way feel. However, Stone Cutter's Lodge Resort welcomed guests with an impressive iron metal and wood sign lofted over the drive on columns of rubble masonry. Lamp posts designed to look like sculptural trees were placed evenly along the drive, reminding travelers that while they were in the thick of the wilderness, they were not completely cut off from the comforts of civilization.

Far cry from having your phones confiscated, Kaitlyn thought.

Abi found the entrance somewhat comforting. Art Nouveau lettering, rubble masonry. Frank Lloyd Wright's Prairie style. It's familiar territory, Abigail. You're fine.

Braden got out of the van and drew up a single key that dangled on his lanyard beside his ID. He went up to the gate and before he could insert the key, gave the tall wooden panel a gentle push. With the key hovering before the lock, everyone watched as the gate swung open.

"Is everything okay?" Max called. He saw that the unlocked gate had given him pause.

Braden turned and smiled. "Perfectly fine," he said. Dropping the key around his neck, he opened the gates wide enough for the van. Having pulled through, Braden got out again and secured the gates closed. With a loud click, he twisted the key in the lock.

The van wound through the woods past lawn and green bush plantings that, while shabby, didn't look completely forgotten and abandoned.

Ryan's heart pounded as the pointed roof of the lodge began to peek over the tops of the pines. He stopped the music and pulled the air pods from his ears, his face frozen and numb. He didn't know how he would react to being back here, but the very real physical sensations were a surprise. He could actually feel his heart beating and hear it in his ears.

Nick pulled Abi closer, just as Kaitlyn wound her hands around Jacob and Ryan's arms. She didn't know for whose benefit she did that. To keep them from jumping out of the vehicle, or her.

"How is everyone?" Braden asked, slowing so that he could look at his passengers.

The lodge, or the Stone Cutter's Lodge Tennis Clubhouse looked very much the same, only it was updated extensively to repair it, and lavishly furnished with high-end outdoor lighting. The olive drab it had been painted in the camp days was replaced by vinyl siding in a medium Payne's gray.

"Oh," Emma winced, "sometimes nostalgia isn't good."

"It wasn't all terrifying," Dylan said. "Remember, a lot of good things happened here too."

"Yeah," Kaitlyn said from the back. She agreed, but she didn't sound convinced.

They glided over a well-maintained blacktop road, also flanked with the elegant lamp posts. In the comfort of the van, each worked to remember the hot, tiresome marches over the gravel trails worn into the land, or the bumpy and somewhat more tolerable ride by golf cart, plaintive children in tow. Through the canopy of trees, they came out in the clearing where the oval ring of cabins still stood. They too had received the deluxe treatment, being outfitted with individual air conditioning units, and judging by the camouflaged electricity meters and insulated windows, made almost conducive to actual habitation. The pool was overhauled, the changing areas made more cushy with more attention to ambiance and bringing out the "mountain lodge" feel with better accent lighting and wooden timbers added to the structures for aesthetic value.

In the distance, Dylan spied the familiar silhouette and broadcast antenna of the Radio Hut, and a lump formed in his throat.

"Can we go that way?" he asked Braden, motioning to the loop of circular drive which rounded the central tree. Braden obliged and they pulled up in front of the diminutive building with the patched up wooden exterior.