Page 58 of Freak Camp
Jake stretched experimentally to see what hurt, yawned, and blinked open his eyes, not sure he could trust them.Leon was sitting on the other bed, watching him with a thoughtful, almost soft look on his face.
“Hey, Dad,” Jake croaked.He pulled himself up to lean against the headboard.
“Hey, Jake.Feeling okay?”
His head hurt, and his shoulder ached—not broken, thankfully—where he’d gotten smacked by a hamlike fist, and he had bruises everywhere (fucking golf-ball-throwing sons of bitches), but he felt good.Really good, on a level that had nothing to do with bruises and broken bones.
“Awesome,” he said.
Leon looked down at his hands, and then back up.“You did good out there, son.”
Jake blinked and grinned, a new kind of high burning through him.He knew he’d rocked that hunt—two dead monsters, no civilian casualties, and minimal collateral damage in the form of a minigolf course that looked like a tornado had ripped through it—but there was a world of difference between the satisfaction of a job well done and one of Dad’s rare compliments.
“Thank you, sir.”
Leon nodded.“Eighteen today.”
Jake blinked.“Sir?”He had only killed the two monsters last night.Unless Dad was counting the ghosts he’d helped burn, in which case it was a hell of a lot more than eighteen.
Leon smiled at him, and Jake basked in the pride on his face, even if he still didn’t understand.“You’re eighteen.An adult.”
“Oh.Yeah, I forgot, you know, with the hunt?But whatever.I can smoke, fuck, vote, and ...”Jake smirked.“Dad, I’m already doing all of those that I want.”
Leon laughed.“Yeah.Yeah, I know.”He sighed.“Jake, I know I’ve missed a lot of them, but happy birthday.”He held out a thick letter and a hard-cover sunglass case.
Jake took both warily.He especially didn’t like the look of that letter.It could have anything in it, from a new set of lock picks to a letter from Mom.Under Leon’s eyes, he slit it open with his knife.
He read the papers, and then looked up, eyes wide.“You got me an ASC license?”
“Yeah.”Leon’s face broke into a broad smile.It looked strange on his usually tense, focused face.“I put in the paperwork for you months ago, way before this hunt.And then you just went out anddidthe job ...I’m damn proud of you, Jake.”
Jake looked down at the paper.Hawthornes, especially eighteen-year-old ones, did not tear up.“Thank you, sir.”
“Go on, open the next one.I figured now that you’re official, you might like some wheels.”
Jake popped open the sunglass case.Yeah, a car would be damn nice sometimes, if only so he didn’t have to ride the bus like a loser or try to walk home if he broke a bone or something on a hunt, but ...he didn’t really want a new car.Nothing would be as sweet as the Eldorado, and being in the Eldorado meant he was home, that Dad was back, and they would be okay.Even without Mom, even without food, even with Dad working his way through a bottle, it was home.Hard to give that up forever by opening a sunglass case with peeling faux leather.
And then his jaw dropped.He looked up and gaped, his mouth working, while Leon grinned at him.
“These are for the Eldorado!”
“You love that car,” Leon said, then winked.“I know you’ll keep the rust spots off her.”
“Holy shit.”Jake jumped off the bed and gave Leon a crushing hug.He couldn’t remember the last time they had hugged, but it felt right when his dad had just given him the best gift possible.
When they broke away, Leon was still smiling and kept his hand on Jake’s shoulder.“Knew I had to hand it over to you sooner or later, the way you love that car.I’d tell you to take good care of her, but I’m pretty sure you’ll get her cleaned up before yourself.”
Only later, after Jake had rushed out and turned the key in the Eldorado—which washis, all his—did it occur to him to wonder what Dad would be driving if Jake had the Eldorado.
A few months later, Jake found himself chasing ghosts in Massachusetts.Literally chasing ghosts, because there was some kind of stupid haunted livestock truck, and it was just so stupid.
And so far from Nevada.
He hated the truck too.Dad’s big black truck.The truck that he used to disappear on Jake more often, getting farther and farther away.Sometimes he left a note, sometimes just a phone message a couple of days later.If Jake had known when Dad gave him the keys to the Eldorado that Dad would be gonemore, that he would have such faith in Jake that he wouldn’t even give him a heads-up before disappearing ...Well, Jake didn’t know that he would have thrown the keys back in Dad’s face—damn, he loved this car—but he might have started researching ways to sabotage Silverados, Tundras, F-150s, and worked his way down the list.As it was ...Fuck.Just fuck.
Black was fine, and Jake supposed that a truck was practical at least, and it had special iron/silver spiked bumpers and reinforced-steel sides and a fancy, mechanized artillery trunk—how long were you planning this, Dad?—but the Eldorado could take it in a knife fight any day.
Sometimes when he saw the hulking monster truck—for hunting monsters, haha, not funny—in the parking lot next to his, his damn Eldorado, he still had a half-smothered urge to slash the tires.
