Polum Chill

You're out of your league, he scoffs.

Finally, they found everything they looked for, and the commander tells me, Call the number.

Tell them it's contained.

You need a new superior.

Also, don't talk about this to anyone.

They leave, and just on cue, the fire brigade and a few news vans show up.

The fire is contained, the news reports say.

Rumors of missing campers are unsubstantiated at this time.

Still, the rumors alone are enough to scare off the seasoned campers.

The quick change-up of managers is chalked up to bureaucracy, and the press dies down after a week or two.

The new manager is very good at dealing with them.

Thankfully, with no new campers, and our now even shorter open hours, we can get more work done around here.

Rebuilding the station took some time, and we just set up the new campsites.

They're practically spitting distance from the station.

Nothing dramatic happens for a few days.

Then, on a whim, the manager tells us to set up some cameras around the station and the campsites.

There's usually so much human activity around here.

All you see are some raccoons, maybe a rare hungry bear, but we humor them and set them up all around.

A couple days pass and we collect the footage.

I play poker with one of the rookies while the manager watches hours of footage on an empty but brilliantly illuminated parking lot.