It was dark by the time our little caravan got back to the trailer park. Bert and I had had more than a few drinks waiting for the rest of the family to finish their shopping, and the sun had just gone down by the time we’d pulled into that last stretch of road on the way to Misty Brook. I wasn’t blitzed, but I was definitely not good to drive.
I was lazily hanging my head out the sidecar, enjoying the whoosh of the open air, when Catherine cut the engine. We hadn’t even pulled past the entrance. I looked to my wife. “What’s up?”
“Why aren’t the lights on?” Catherine’s voice was low. I looked straight ahead and blinked. It was dark. Too dark. She was right. None of the lights on the trailer park were on. It was completely dark.