Camp Kill Yourself

Chapter 04: Rent-a-Cop

It had been roughly two hours and now it was hovering somewhere after midnight. Vee, Spencer and Ricky had gone to their cabins to sleep, and TJ's group had recently resurfaced, rather soused, from their excursion to the lake. Now, looking for trouble, Craig was trying to instigate a game of Truth or Dare. Chris was shaking his head in the negative, as was Velma, but the remainder of the campers were highly indifferent to the idea. With no one biting to play the raunchy game, the group were sitting around the fire and chatting about whatever random topics came to mind. All the while, Vinny and Wednesday were attempting to make s'mores, but it seemed like all they were succeeding at doing was burning their fingers and pouring chocolate into the fire pit.

Seemingly out of nowhere, shockingly, headlights illuminated the lengthy driveway that lead from the clubhouse, three miles through the woods to an access road that, after five more miles, picked up on a rarely traveled, rural county road. They were much too far out to get stragglers or people looking to make u-turns, so the arrival of the vehicle shocked the group. That is, until they saw the large yellow "Security"emblazoned on the side of the town car.

Chris groaned. "Fuck! It's David."

Ruth sat up straight at this, glancing around nervously. "Did he just say–?"

Blue nodded. "Yes, dear, it's your lover man. Try to remain calm, okay?"

Stepping out of the car was a man of average height, not that much older than any of the group, with perfectly coiffed short black hair and androgynously handsome features. He cleared his throat before glancing around, locating Chris, and sighing. "Cerulli. I'm just here for my required 1AM check-in of the perimeter." He glanced down at a clipboard then, reading several notes and then meeting the younger man's eyes again. "It says here that I am to determine that you are, in fact, back up and running for the summer?"

"No, we're here for shits and giggles," Wednesday snorted.

Ruth's eyes widened at this as she mouthed, "That's David. David is here."

Jenna patted her friend's hand. "Yes, that's David the douche."

Ignoring all of the background noise, Chris stood and approached the other man. "Nice uniform, Marchand."

Glancing down at his navy-blue uniform, David looked confused. "You speak these words as though something is, in fact, wrong with it? Are the pleats not perfectly pressed? What's wrong with my appearance?"

"Nothing," Chris grinned. "It suits you." He pointed toward the right chest pocket, where there was an embroidered 'Officer Marchand'. "It's very official, very spiffy."

Marchand cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow to this. "I do not appreciate your tone, Christopher. Now, to complete my perimeter sweep, I will need to know just how many of you are present."

"Sixty-nine," TJ snorted and then erupted into laughter with Craig and Ryan.

The rent-a-cop sighed. "Is that some kind of filthy sex joke for teenagers?"

Standing beside him, Chris couldn't help but echo TJ's snort. "Come on, Marchand, lighten up a little! You patrol the camp every summer, and every summer we go through the same damn thing."