Today was different. Along with Angela, who left at 7am for Phoenix for a dog agility competition, the rest of the beach seemingly vacated. I’d like to think they all knew what was coming, but in reality, it was due to the end of the long weekend. Angela took Rubix and Gus with her. That left me and Jake alone for the day for some dude bonding which would include some fetch to start our lazy morning around 10am. It was windier this day than the last six, so instead of relaxing outside in the sun, we headed back inside. With our recently repaired and functioning water system I opted to wash off the 6 days stink with a hot shower, followed by coffee and bailey’s keeping me hydrated for the next 2 hours while I read a book. The window next to the bed I sat on was buzzing with small bees. I didn’t think much of it at first as the window had a screen on it keeping them at bay. Until one buzzed by my head – inside. My weapon of choice for this first intruder is a hardcover copy of Wayne Gretzky’s 99 – Stories of the Game. Being that I was mid-read in this book and roughly half way through, each open side offered a nice balance of mass to which I snapped shut on my attacker, rendering him quite dead.
As this day goes on, I’m beginning to blame the rest of the campers whose mass exodus left me the lone warrior on the miles long beach to fight off all the enemies they’d attracted with BBQ and the sweet smell of beer. Now the only fresh beer was here. I’d have not cracked one if I knew this was the fate it would bring. Whether or not it’s fact, I’ve heard it said that killing a bee draws the attention of his comrades in effort to eliminate the threat. As far as I’m concerned, it is fact. The attack started at 1pm. That’s roughly the time I extinguished the first intruder of my aluminium bunker. By 3pm I’d closed the pages on at least 30 more, gone through the entire trailer and plugged any pinholes of light with tissue paper around our awning windows that the enemy could tunnel into. While I fortified our base, Jake stood guard with a watchful eye alerting me to any new intruders. I’m pretty sure he took down a few himself, thankfully without being stung. Whoever reads “99” after I’m through it will likely wonder what all the stained pages are from. Maybe I’ll leave a few notes for them, or one victim pressed between the later pages to close out a mystery spotted with evidence in previous chapters.
With numbers so stacked against us, the wise choice would have been to retreat, but Angela having fled early in the morning left us stranded. It’s just after 4pm now as I write this, holed up, distracted every few words by a buzz that may be real, or at this point, I’m finding is in my head half the time. I’ve taped our door shut from the inside, closed all but one window and one ceiling fan (both of which I’ve ensured have no holes). It’s hot in here without the airflow. I struggle to get a full sentence typed out without interruption of a real or imagined threat that has me out of my seat and scanning my limited surroundings. Jake is sleeping in his kennel, the open side covered by a towel to prevent enemy infiltration. Each time I jump though, so does he. Every time an enemy combatant draws near the book becomes my weapon again, and as I yield it my page is lost, again. No sooner do I find it after and get a few paragraphs in does the next wave of attack come. I’ve given up on reading “99” anymore today. But it will stay within reach. When not used as a squashing trap, the book was a plank with which to bat them out of the air, first stunning, then squishing. A few times my dry hands lost grip and the book flew across the trailer. I was fortunate not to break a window and open the floodgates.
With a beautiful lake just steps away, calm from the absence of boats that chopped up the water just yesterday, I’d love to go for a paddle with Jake. But I also want to sleep tonight, free from intruders. So here I sit defending and documenting the battle, in case I should not survive. I think tomorrow we’ll find somewhere else to explore.