Title: HDTH, Numeral 3: Chinks in the Armor
Author: FraidyCatChapter 10: A Fork in the Road
In the end, it all worked out for the best.
Suppressing his laughter, tailing his sulking brother through the quiet campground at midnight with the famous digital camera, Don wasn't thinking about final results. He was thinking about sending out his first-ever Holiday card – provided he got just the right incriminating evidence against Charlie. He was also thinking that the chalk Charlie used must be fairly heavy. The match had not been the slam-dunk he was anticipating. Not that he had let Charlie in on that, of course.
After dinner the two brothers had driven into the nearest city – well, "village" was probably a more apt description – and paid three times the going rate for a 24-pack of bathroom tissue. Alan had stayed at the camp, claiming he didn't want to know a thing about what they were planning. They had gone to bed early, as most of the rest of the fishermen had, but Don set his watch alarm to make sure Charlie got up at the appropriate time. The professor had muttered and stumbled groggily around the tent, tripping twice over their father, before he finally left to make good on his debt. Don had given him exactly 30 seconds before he snuck out of his own sleeping bag, fully clothed with his shoes on, grabbed Charlie's digital and prepared to keep his tracking skills sharp.
He stood partially sheltered in a grove of trees and watched Charlie work with a finesse that momentarily quieted him. Obviously, Charlie hadn't been kidding when he joked that he did more than study at Princeton. They would have to talk about this. Don knew that the click of the shutter would give him away in the still night, so he raised the camera and waited for just the right moment – he might only get one chance at this.
It took a few days to straighten out the sequence of events.
Looking through the camera, Don saw the drooling fangs at the same time that he heard the growl and felt a weight on his chest. No longer concerned with discovery, a strangled "Hey!" escaped him – as did the camera, which had the misfortune of cracking into three pieces when it landed on a rock. As Don stumbled backwards, he raised his arms over his face in a self-protective motion. Gigantic paws hit his arms immediately, and the dog's impressive weight backed Don right into the tree he had been using for shelter. "Down!", he yelled, wishing he knew more about how to dog whisper. "Back the hell off!"
The dog's bark, close to his ear, was almost deafening – and certainly paralyzing. The cabin's yard was suddenly flooded with light, and Don heard the unmistakable, no-nonsense command of Lou: "Kitten. Heel."
Don felt the weight of the dog leave at once. He peeked through a crack in his arms to see the butt of the most immense Great Dane he had ever seen in his life. A Great Dane named "Kitten", who could sneak up on a person in the dark like nobody's business. And best of all, a well-trained Great Dane, who didn't need to be called twice. When Don started breathing again, he realized two things. The first was that he had stopped breathing, at some point, and was now slightly dizzy. The second was that he hadn't heard a peep out of Charlie.
Worried that "Kitten" had a less friendly companion, Don dropped his arms and saw that this was indeed true. Kitten's companion was Lou, and she had a double-barrel shotgun buried in Charlie's chest.
His brother stood motionless, arms raised, a roll of toilet paper in one hand. The end was fluttering in the slight breeze. Don stopped worrying about Kitten and started for Charlie in a dead run. "NO! Let him go, it was just a prank! Charlie!"
Lou eyed him over the shotgun. "Just stop your ass right there and tell me what the hell is going on, here."
Somehow, Don did. The sites of the campground closest to the cabin were belching people, disgruntled fishermen awakened by the noise and light. One of them was the Ohio Attorney General who had gotten them out of their first predicament with Lou. Even he was no help now, however. After the campground owner had lowered the shotgun and allowed Don to stand next to his brother, she had still called the sheriff.
By the time a deputy arrived almost 45 minutes later, Lou had let Don and Charlie sit at a picnic table near the cabin, and was glaring at them from a distance. Don started to speak to his brother when Kitten bounded up again out of nowhere, and Don stood to place himself between the dog and Charlie. To his complete amazement, Charlie made a smacking noise with his lips, summoning the creature. "Come on, boy. Comeer, Kitten."
Don stood with his mouth open when Kitten skidded to a lumbering stop at Charlie's feet and fell to the ground as if he'd been shot, rolling over on his back. When he kicked his legs in the air, they were almost as high as Charlie's head. Charlie laughed and leaned over a little to rub the beast's belly. Kitten squirmed with delight, and Don dropped, boneless, onto the bench.
Charlie patted the dog solidly on the ribs a few times, and straightened back up. He saw Don, who was still speechless, grinned and shrugged. "You know I always wanted a dog. I used to pick out friends to play with based on whether or not they had a dog."
Don rubbed his hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. "Holy shit, Charlie. I'm waiting for you to dissolve into a quivering mound of jelly, and you're playing with a Teradactyl." Charlie laughed, and Don went on, a little disturbed that he was the only one upset. "She was holding you at gunpoint. Gunpoint!"
His voice shook, and the smile dropped off Charlie's face. He imagined for a moment what it must have been like for Don to see him in that situation, again. He reached out and almost touched Don, but pulled back at the last second. "I'm sorry," he said, sincerely. "You must have been terrified. The shotgun wasn't loaded, I could see that all along – thanks to your firearms training, by the way. But I could hear the dog behind me, and you yelling, and so I froze." His face fell further, and he looked miserably at Kitten, who was now sleeping at his feet. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
Don was simultaneously proud of Charlie for keeping his wits about him, and angry enough to sock him in the eye for scaring him to death. He wasn't sure what to say, so he sat, and shuddered a few times, and said nothing.
The flashing lights of the patrol car had succeeded in awakening the rest of the camp – including Alan. It took almost an hour for Alan, the Attorney General, and the Deputy to talk Lou into not pressing charges. What finally did it was the Attorney General's description of how much time she would have to be away from the river, and in court -- all over a vandalism misdemeanor, and a trespassing count against an FBI agent. It was a mutual decision that the Eppes would leave the campground and not seek a refund. Somehow, the Deputy got her to let them wait until the sun came up, so they could see to pack.
In the end, it all worked out for the best.
It was hard to imagine that happening, though, as the three men sat silently at their campfire, waiting for the first glimpse of daylight. It was difficult to feel anything but guilt at ruining their Dad's vacation, as he refused to meet their eyes and didn't even attempt to supervise exactly how everything was packed. They all worked independently of each other, and Don dreaded the long trip home, over two weeks ahead of schedule.
While Charlie was dousing the fire and Alan was shoving the last of their things haphazardly into the back of the SUV, Don walked to the driver's side to warm up the vehicle. When he opened the door, he spied their "emergency-use-only" cell phone, complete with the battery pack Charlie had rigged to keep it charged. As he lifted it all up to place it in the back seat, he noted four calls from Megan.
"Vacation's over, anyway," he thought glumly, and listened to the voice mail she had left.
Two minutes later, Don came charging around the back of the SUV, nearly knocking over Alan. He grabbed his father to steady him, and called loudly enough for Charlie to hear. "Hey! Guys! We don't have to go home, yet!"
Alan looked at him as if he was crazy, and Charlie came a little closer. "What are you talking about?", asked his brother. "Where else can we go? You said yourself, everything will be full."
Don held up the phone and smiled. "Megan called last night, and left voice mail. She said that place you tried to get us reservations, the resort on the coast…"
"Bandon?", supplied Charlie.
Don nodded. "Yeah. The cheese place. Anyway, they tried to call you at home, yesterday afternoon. They had a last-minute cancellation for a week, starting tonight, and you were next on the waiting list. They said you could have 24 hours to get back to them, before they put the rooms into the vacancy system."
Alan roughly grabbed the phone, held it out to Charlie, and spoke for the first time in almost two hours. "What are you waiting for? I told you, the phone is for emergencies only. This is an emergency. Our vacation is at stake."
Charlie smiled in genuine relief that Alan was speaking again, and still willing to spend time with his sons. He came closer, hand out to take the phone.
That's when Kitten ran coltishly into the scene, sliding to a halt right in front of him, and Charlie toppled head-over-dog, landing in a heap at Alan's feet. Alan and Don both exclaimed and rushed to help him, but then stopped as they both heard a sound becoming more familiar, but nonetheless treasured.
Charlie was giggling, pushing at Kitten, who was licking his face. He reached up a hand. "Ph-ph-phone," he gasped. "Kitten, let me up." He sat up slowly, using the dog's solid body for assistance, and still laughing, looked up at Don. "So what's the damn number?"