He was the one that told me most of what I know about the past of Whispering Oaks, and I admit I was intrigued. If I occasionally took his patrols in exchange for his entertaining company when I got back to the clubhouse, I looked at it as a fair trade. Not everyone had the same tolerance for Oscar’s casual approach, however.

Jeff Spires was new with the company, having just left the military six months earlier. He wasn’t an asshole…not exactly…but he was very rigid and opinionated. Oscar thought it was due to his time in the Marines, but I wasn’t so sure. I had known plenty of soldiers that were very nice, normal people, and Spires was neither. Rail-thin and twitchy, he often seemed very unemotional, if a little jumpy. But then he would have these strange mood shifts where it seemed like he was caught somewhere between an angry outburst and breaking into tears. Plus, he was constantly making little comments to Oscar about what he should or should not be doing. Like a sixty-year old security guard pushing on the last few months of his pension gave a shit what he thought.

Suffice it to say, neither Oscar or myself like the nights we are paired with Spires. We had seniority, which gave us influence over the schedule, and most of the time we could avoid him. But every once in a while, something would come up. Like last month, when I got sick with a stomach virus that laid me out for a week.

When I got back to work, it was a Thursday night shift. Oscar was getting off, and while he asked how I was doing, he didn’t hang around and chit chat like he usually would if we were switching out at the same time. He also seemed strange, like he was distracted or preoccupied by something. When I asked him if anything was wrong, he just gave me a shaky smile. “Nah, I just need to get going. Want to get home before dark.”

The evening started off quiet. Logged in, checked the cameras, and then I went to patrol Zone Four. It is normally one of the easiest to check. The weeds on the course are waist-high, but there’s usually not much need to leave the ATV except for checking the caddyshack and the small adjoining shed where golf carts were once kept before being sold off. As for the walking trails, they are in surprisingly good shape after all this time, and they make perfectly serviceable roads during patrol.