Bad Games Read Online Free PDF Page A

the dog the moment Carrie began shrieking.
    Patrick caught his son’s expression in the rearview mirror, reached back and rubbed his knee. “Don’t worry, pal, it’s no big deal.”
    “You think it’s a stray?” Amy said.
    “Probably. Stay in the car for a couple of minutes though. I’ll get out and shoo it away.”
    The instant Patrick stepped out of the car the terrier leapt towards his thigh, begging for affection, its spastic behavior accompanied by a multitude of whines that could crack glass. Patrick shook him off and nudged it away with the tip of his shoe. He clapped his hands loudly. “No! Bad dog! Get out! Shoo!”
    The terrier took a few cautious steps back, regrouped, then dove after Patrick’s leg for a second try.
    “No! Get out of here! Bad dog! Bad! ” Patrick yelled louder, nudging harder with his foot. This time the dog took several steps back and eventually sat. It quivered and whimpered from its spot, spring-loaded, anxiously waiting for Patrick to succumb to its canine charm so that it could rocket forward again.
    Patrick opened the driver’s door and poked his head in. “You know what, baby? Why don’t we take the kids inside, and we’ll unload everything. It seems harmless enough, but looks pretty dirty. I don’t want the kids touching it.”
    Carrie whined. Amy reached back and squeezed her daughter’s knee to quiet her. “Okay, that’s a good idea,” she said.
    Carrie folded her arms and grumbled, “No it’s not.”
     
    * * *
     
    With both kids now safe in the cabin, Amy and Patrick began unloading the rear of the Highlander.
    “So what do you think?” Patrick asked, taking a brief look around before reaching for a bag. “Seems just as peaceful as last time, doesn’t it?”
    Amy turned her back to the car and looked down the driveway and beyond, out onto Crescent Lake. The lake itself was man-made and about half the size of a football field. The surrounding homes that bordered the green water were in contrast of one another. Some were rustic blocks of wood that looked as if they’d been erected by pioneers hundreds of years ago, and some were more modern establishments that resembled basic, one-story homes you might find in any modest suburb throughout the country.
    Crescent Lake was not flashy; that wasn’t its purpose. Its purpose was serenity and solitude, and in that, it excelled. Amy turned back to Patrick, smiled, and said, “Just as peaceful.”
    Patrick smiled back and breathed in deep. The smell of wood, leaves, and mountain air calmed him to no end. The trees that surrounded the rear of their cabin, and nearly every cabin bordering the lake, narrowed upward from a mighty base until their tips were lost among an explosion of red and orange, with not a single leaf daring to fall to the earth just yet.
    “It really is, isn’t it?” Patrick said, more to himself than Amy. He breathed in the earthy scents again and closed his eyes, the gentle calls of nature singing to him, more acute with his eyes shut. He thought it might actually be possible to fall asleep standing up.
    Amy took hold of a small duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. “What do you want to do about food?” she asked.
    Patrick snapped from his daze and brought his attention back to the Highlander. He took a small black suitcase from the car and set it at his feet. “You want to go shopping now?”
    Amy grabbed another small duffel bag and balanced it atop the black suitcase. “Might as well get it out of the way before we get comfortable.”
    Patrick shrugged. “Okay. You want me to go?”
    “Nah, I’ll go. You can take the kids for a walk around the lake or something.”
    “Oh, I get it. Dump the kids with the naïve dad and the new mangy mutt while you drive off to reunite with your forbidden mountain man.”
    Amy raised an eyebrow, and did not smile when she said, “Actually, I was going to go look for your little buddy, Arty.”
    Patrick dropped another bag at his feet, stood