“I’ll be in touch,” Sean said.
And I’ll be looking forward to it. Somehow she managed to keep herself from saying it out loud.
* * *
The two days she’d taken off turned into busy ones. She’d made arrangements for Rick’s birthday and finished some chores she’d been putting off. Everything was set for the party now. All she had to do was load the car and head to the paintball field. She was expecting about twenty teenagers, both boys and girls. Normally she, Mark and Rick celebrated with cake and ice cream with a few friends but this was a special birthday. Now that she had some extra money from overtime she had decided to splurge a little.
With a couple of hours before they needed to leave, Cynthia decided to check her email and review what she would need to get done the next day. She opened her account.
With a giddy feeling she shouldn’t be experiencing, she saw one from Sean. She opened it.
Hi Cynthia,
I hope you’re having a good day. I’ve had something come up and I need to get Charles Chadworth’s surgical report. It’s particular to the grant and I need a colleague to review it. He’s leaving on a two-week vacation tomorrow but has said he can look at it tonight. Do you have it completed?
I know this is above and beyond the call of duty, but could you have it ready for a messenger at four p.m.? I must get it to him right away.
Thank you.
Sean
She checked the time. There was just enough for her to type it but no one would be here to give it to the messenger.
She replied.
I can get it typed, but today is my brother’s birthday and I’m giving him a party. I won’t be here for the messenger when he comes.
Since it’s personal information I’m not comfortable leaving it on the porch unattended... I could bring it by your office around nine tonight. Would that do?
Cynthia
Half an hour later she had the report finished and another email from Sean popped into her box.
That’s not going to work. I really need it sooner.
Let me see if I can find someone in the office who can come get it.
I’ll get back to you.
Sean
She couldn’t miss Rick’s party or be late. She was the hostess. Had the responsibility of being the designated adult in charge. At one time that title made her feel important. Now it was more of a weight on her shoulders.
Cynthia checked the time. She needed to get going but she also needed to wait to hear from Sean. Ten minutes went by before he replied.
No messenger can make it and there’s no one in the office who can do it either.
Can I meet you somewhere and pick it up?
Sean
Cynthia slipped the two sheets of paper into a protective envelope. The report really must be important if he was willing to go to the trouble of personally picking it up.
You’ll need to come to 5182 Falcon Road, Bessemer, Al.
Sean replied right away.
I’ll see you there.
Thanks for doing this on such short notice.
Sean
Cynthia couldn’t help the excitement bubbling in her. She was going to see Sean again. It had been a long time since she’d acted like a woman excited about seeing a man.
* * *
Sean couldn’t believe it when he pulled up to the address that Cynthia had given him. It was a large field full of building façades, lean-tos and barrels spaced out at intervals. In a grassy area beside a building no larger than a backyard garden shed, vehicles were parked in a line. Most were jacked-up trucks with the occasional car mixed in.
What was going on here?
He parked next to a red truck. Among the buildings and other obstacles were people dressed in white painter coveralls and wearing clear masks over their faces. They were running from place to place while being shot at with guns that used exploding paintballs.
Why was Cynthia here?
He slowly approached the shed where a couple of teenagers stood laughing and pointing at what was happening on the field. Posted on the siding of the building was a sign stating “Peek’s Paintball”. Below the sign was a list of the charges for a game, with or without the rental of the equipment. This was just the type of entertainment he didn’t waste his money on. There was nothing to show for the expense. Yet, it seemed several kids and, apparently, Cynthia were playing.
Sean joined the boys. “Hey.”
They looked at him curiously. Was it that obvious he was out of his element? “Do either one of you know where I can find Cynthia Marcum?”
One boy looked at the other. “Isn’t that Rick’s sister?”
“Yeah.” The teen pointed toward the field. “She’s out there somewhere.”
Sean studied the game area, trying to catch a glimpse of Cynthia. Players continued moving between obstacles while being shot at.
“They just started a new game a few minutes ago. It may be a while before she shows up,” one of the boys stated.
Sean didn’t really have time to stand around waiting on her. Cynthia knew he was coming. Why wasn’t she available? “Could you point me in the direction of where you last saw her?”
The taller of the two indicated the right side of the field.
Sean started in that direction.
“Hey, man,” the shorter boy called, “I wouldn’t do that without a mask and gun. It’s an unwritten rule that anyone on the field is fair game.”
Sean hesitated. Surely no one would shoot an unarmed man. He wasn’t even dressed the part.
“I’ll let you have mine. You really don’t want to go out there without some protection.” The second boy handed him his plastic helmet.
Sean took it. “Thanks. You really think they’d shoot me?”
Both boys gave him a solemn nod.
The tall one asked, “Do you know how to use a paintball gun?”
Sean looked at the clear gun with a black plastic container attached to the bottom and a small black canister on the back. “No, not really.”
“This one is an automatic. All you have to do is pull the trigger. This is the hopper.” He pointed to the plastic container. “It holds the paintballs. This is your gas.” He put his hand on the canister. “You should have plenty. Just point and shoot. Aim for the body.”
They had to be kidding. Surely Cynthia wasn’t out there dressed as they were and armed. “Is all of this really necessary?”
Both boys bobbed their heads in a rapid motion.
“Oh, and don’t take your mask off for any reason until the whistle blows. Paintballs can leave nasty whelps.”
“Got it.” Sean started out into the field again. He hadn’t gone six feet before he felt a thump and dampness on his upper arm. He looked down to see a bright yellow splatter on his good navy pullover. At least he was wearing jeans. Moving into a trot, he found cover behind a barrel. There were two pinging sounds against the side as he crouched down. Paint flew in the air around him.
A couple