Welcome to Camp Nightmare Page 3

  “We had a little problem,” Jay told him.

  “Where’s the fourth guy? The chubby one?” Larry asked, lowering his head so he wouldn’t bump it on the door frame as he stepped inside.

  “Mike got bit. By a snake,” I told him.

  “There were two snakes in his bed,” Jay added.

  Larry’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem at all surprised. “So where did Mike go?” he asked casually, swatting a mosquito on his arm.

  “His hand was bleeding. He went to the nurse to get it taken care of,” I told him.

  “Huh?” Larry’s mouth dropped open.

  “He went to find the nurse,” I repeated.

  Larry tossed back his head and started to laugh. “Nurse?” he cried, laughing hard. “What nurse?!”

  6

  The door opened and Mike returned, still holding his wounded hand. His face was pale, his expression frightened. “They said there was no nurse,” he told me.

  Then he saw Larry sitting on his bunk. “Larry — my hand,” Mike said. He held the hand out so the counselor could see it. It was stained with bright red blood.

  Larry stood up. “I think I have some bandages,” he told Mike. He pulled out a slender black case from beneath his bunk and began to search through it.

  Mike stood beside him, holding up his hand. Drops of blood splashed on the cabin floor. “They said the camp doesn’t have a nurse,” Mike repeated.

  Larry shook his head. “If you get hurt in this camp,” he told Mike seriously, “you’re on your own.”

  “I think my hand is swelling a little,” Mike said.

  Larry handed him a roll of bandages. “The washroom is at the end of this row of cabins,” he told Mike, closing the case and shoving it back under the bed. “Go wash the hand and bandage it. Hurry. It’s almost dinnertime.”

  Holding the bandages tightly in his good hand, Mike hurried off to follow Larry’s instructions.

  “By the way, how’d you guys get the snakes out of here?” Larry asked, glancing around the cabin.

  “We carried them out in Mike’s sheet,” Jay told him. He pointed at me. “It was Billy’s idea.”

  Larry stared hard at me. “Hey, I’m impressed, Billy,” he said. “That was pretty brave, man.”

  “Maybe I inherited something from my parents,” I told him. “They’re scientists. Explorers, kind of. They go off for months at a time, exploring the wildest places.”

  “Well, Camp Nightmoon is pretty wild,” Larry said. “And you guys had better be careful. I’m warning you.” His expression turned serious. “There’s no nurse at Camp Nightmoon. Uncle Al doesn’t believe in coddling you guys.”

  The hot dogs were all charred black, but we were so hungry, we didn’t care. I shoved three of them down in less than five minutes. I don’t think I’d ever been so hungry in all my life.

  The campfire was in a flat clearing surrounded by a circle of round white stones. Behind us, the large white-shingled lodge loomed over the sloping hill. Ahead of us a thick line of evergreen trees formed a fence that hid the river from view.

  Through a small gap in the trees, I could see a flickering campfire in the distance on the other side of the river. I wondered if that was the campfire of the girls’ camp.

  I thought about Dawn and Dori. I wondered if the two camps ever got together, if I’d ever see them again.

  Dinner around the big campfire seemed to put everyone in a good mood. Jay was the only one sitting near me who complained about the hot dogs being burned. But I think he put away four or five of them anyway!

  Mike had trouble eating because of his bandaged hand. When he dropped his first hot dog, I thought he was going to burst into tears. By the end of dinner, he was in a much better mood. His wounded hand had swelled up just a little. But he said it didn’t hurt as much as before.

  The counselors were easy to spot. They all wore their identical white shorts and green T-shirts. There were eight or ten of them, all young guys probably sixteen or seventeen. They ate together quietly, away from us campers. I kept looking at Larry, but he never once turned around to look at any of us.

  I was thinking about Larry, trying to figure out if he was shy or if he just didn’t like us campers very much. Suddenly, Uncle Al climbed to his feet and motioned with both hands for us all to be quiet.

  “I want to welcome you boys to Camp Nightmoon,” he began. “I hope you’re all unpacked and comfortable in your bunks. I know that most of you are first-time campers.”

  He was speaking quickly, without any pauses between sentences, as if he was running through this for the thousandth time and wanted to get it over with.

  “I’d like to tell you some of our basic rules,” he continued. “First, lights-out is at nine sharp.” A lot of guys groaned.

  “You might think you can ignore this rule,” Uncle Al continued, paying no attention to their reaction. “You might think you can sneak out of your cabins to meet or take a walk by the river. But I’m warning you now that we don’t allow it, and we have very good ways of making sure this rule is obeyed.”

  He paused to clear his throat.

  Some boys were giggling about something. Across from me, Jay burped loudly, which caused more giggles.

  Uncle Al didn’t seem to hear any of this. “On the other side of the river is the girls’ camp,” he continued loudly, motioning to the trees. “You might be able to see their campfire. Well, I want to make it clear that swimming or rowing over to the girls’ camp is strictly forbidden.”

  Several boys groaned loudly. This made everyone laugh. Even some of the counselors laughed. Uncle Al remained grim-faced.

  “The woods around Camp Nightmoon are filled with grizzlies and tree bears,” Uncle Al continued. “They come to the river to bathe and to drink. And they’re usually hungry.”

  This caused another big reaction from all of us sitting around the fading campfire. Someone made a loud growling sound. Another kid screamed. Then everyone laughed.

  “You won’t be laughing if a bear claws your head off,” Uncle Al said sternly.

  He turned to the group of counselors outside our circle. “Larry, Kurt, come over here,” he ordered.

  The two counselors climbed obediently to their feet and made their way to the center of the circle beside Uncle Al.

  “I want you two to demonstrate to the new campers the procedure to follow when — er, I mean, if— you are attacked by a grizzly bear.”

  Immediately, the two counselors dropped to the ground on their stomachs. They lay flat and covered the backs of their heads with their hands.

  “That’s right. I hope you’re all paying close attention,” the camp director thundered at us. “Cover your neck and head. Try your best not to move.” He motioned to the two counselors. “Thanks, guys. You can get up.”

  “Have there ever been any bear attacks here?” I called out, cupping my hands so Uncle Al could hear me.

  He turned in my direction. “Two last summer,” he replied. Several boys gasped.

  “It wasn’t pretty,” Uncle Al continued. “It’s hard to remain still when a huge bear is pawing you and drooling all over you. But if you move …” His voice trailed off, leaving the rest to our imaginations, I guess.

  I felt a cold shiver run down my back. I didn’t want to think about bears and bear attacks.

  What kind of camp did Mom and Dad send me to? I found myself wondering. I couldn’t wait to call them and tell them about all that had happened already.

  Uncle Al waited for everyone to quiet down, then pointed off to the side. “Do you see that cabin over there?” he asked.

  In the dim evening light, I could make out a cabin standing halfway up the hill toward the lodge. It appeared to be a little larger than the other cabins. It seemed to be built on a slant, sort of tipping on its side, as if the wind had tried to blow it over.

  “I want you to make sure you see that cabin,” Uncle Al warned, his voice thundering out above the crackling of the purp
le fire. “That is known as the Forbidden Bunk. We don’t talk about that bunk — and we don’t go near it.”

  I felt another cold shiver as I stared through the gray evening light at the shadowy, tilted cabin. I felt a sharp sting on the back of my neck and slapped a mosquito, too late to keep it from biting me.

  “I’m going to repeat what I just said,” Uncle Al shouted, still pointing to the dark cabin on the hill. “That is known as the Forbidden Bunk. It has been closed and boarded up for many years. No one is to go near that cabin. No one.”

  This started everyone talking and laughing. Nervous laughter, I think.

  “Why is the Forbidden Bunk forbidden?” someone called out.

  “We never talk about it,” Uncle Al replied sharply.

  Jay leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go check it out.”

  I laughed. Then I turned back to Jay uncertainly. “You’re kidding — right?”

  He grinned in reply and didn’t say anything.

  I turned back toward the fire. Uncle Al was wishing us all a good stay and saying how much he was looking forward to camp this year. “And one more rule,” he called out. “You must write to your parents every day. Every day! We want them to know what a great time you’re having at Camp Nightmoon.”

  I saw Mike holding his wounded hand gingerly. “It’s starting to throb,” he told me, sounding very frightened.

  “Maybe Larry has something to put on it,” I said. “Let’s go ask him.”

  Uncle Al dismissed us. We all climbed to our feet, stretching and yawning, and started to make our way in small groups back to the bunks.

  Mike and I lingered behind, hoping to talk to Larry. We saw him talking to the other counselors. He was at least a head taller than all of them.

  “Hey, Larry!” Mike called.

  But by the time we pushed our way through the groups of kids heading the other way, Larry had disappeared.

  “Maybe he’s going to our bunk to make sure we obey lights-out,” I suggested.

  “Let’s go see,” Mike replied anxiously.

  We walked quickly past the dying campfire. It had stopped crackling but still glowed a deep purple-red. Then we headed along the curve of the hill toward Bunk 4.

  “My hand really hurts,” Mike groaned, holding it tenderly in front of him. “I’m not just complaining. It’s throbbing and it’s swelling up. And I’m starting to have chills.”

  “Larry will know what to do,” I replied, trying to sound reassuring.

  “I hope so,” Mike said shakily.

  We both stopped when we heard the howls.

  Hideous howls. Like an animal in pain. But too human to be from an animal.

  Long, shrill howls that cut through the air and echoed down the hill.

  Mike uttered a quiet gasp. He turned to me. Even in the darkness, I could see the fright on his face.

  “Those cries,” he whispered. “They’re coming from … the Forbidden Bunk!”

  7

  A few minutes later, Mike and I trudged into the cabin. Jay and Colin were sitting tensely on their beds. “Where’s Larry?” Mike asked, fear creeping into his voice.

  “Not here,” Colin replied.

  “Where is he?” Mike demanded shrilly. “I’ve got to find him. My hand!”

  “He should be here soon,” Jay offered.

  I could still hear the strange howls through the open window. “Do you hear that?” I asked, walking over to the window and listening hard.

  “Probably a prairie cat,” Colin said.

  “Prairie cats don’t howl,” Mike told him. “Prairie cats screech, but they don’t howl.”

  “How do you know?” Colin asked, walking over to Larry’s bunk and sitting down on the bottom bed.

  “We studied them in school,” Mike replied. Another howl made us all stop and listen. “It sounds like a man,” Jay offered, his eyes lighting up excitedly. “A man who’s been locked up in the Forbidden Bunk for years and years.”

  Mike swallowed hard. “Do you really think so?”

  Jay and Colin laughed.

  “What should I do about my hand?” Mike asked, holding it up. It was definitely swollen.

  “Go wash it again,” I told him. “And put a fresh bandage on it.” I peered out the window into the darkness. “Maybe Larry will show up soon. He probably knows where to get something to put on it.”

  “I can’t believe there’s no nurse,” Mike whined. “Why would my parents send me to a camp where there’s no nurse or infirmary or anything?”

  “Uncle Al doesn’t like to coddle us,” Colin said, repeating Larry’s words.

  Jay stood up and broke into an imitation of Uncle Al. “Stay away from the Forbidden Bunk!” he cried in a booming deep voice. He sounded a lot like him. “We don’t talk about it and we don’t ever go near it!”

  We all laughed at Jay’s impression. Even Mike.

  “We should go there tonight!” Colin said enthusiastically. “We should check it out immediately!”

  We heard another long, sorrowful howl roll down the hill from the direction of the Forbidden Bunk.

  “I — I don’t think we should,” Mike said softly, examining his hand. He started for the door. “I’m going to go wash this.” The door slammed behind him.

  “He’s scared,” Jay scoffed.

  “I’m a little scared, too,” I admitted. “I mean, those awful howls …”

  Jay and Colin both laughed. “Every camp has something like the Forbidden Bunk. The camp director makes it up,” Colin said.

  “Yeah,” Jay agreed. “Camp directors love scaring kids. It’s the only fun they have.”

  He puffed out his chest and imitated Uncle Al again: “Don’t leave the bunk after lights-out or you’ll never be seen again!” he thundered, then burst out laughing.

  “There’s nothing in that Forbidden Bunk,” Colin said, shaking his head. “It’s probably completely empty. It’s all just a joke. You know. Like camp ghost stories. Every camp has its own ghost story.”

  “How do you know?” I asked, dropping down onto Mike’s bed. “Have you ever been to camp before?”

  “No,” Colin replied. “But I have friends who told me about their camp.” He reached up and pulled off his silver sunglasses for the first time. He had bright sky-blue eyes, like big blue marbles.

  We suddenly heard a bugle repeating a slow, sad-sounding tune.

  “That must be the signal for lights-out,” I said, yawning. I started to pull off my shoes. I was too tired to change or wash up. I planned to sleep in my clothes.

  “Let’s sneak out and explore the Forbidden Bunk,” Jay urged. “Come on. We can be the first ones to do it!”

  I yawned again. “I’m really too tired,” I told them.

  “Me, too,” Colin said. He turned to Jay. “How about tomorrow night?”

  Jay’s face fell in disappointment.

  “Tomorrow,” Colin insisted, kicking his shoes into the corner and starting to pull off his socks.

  “I wouldn’t do it if I were you!”

  The voice startled all three of us. We turned to the window where Larry’s head suddenly appeared from out of the darkness. He grinned in at us. “I’d listen to Uncle Al if I were you,” he said.

  How long had he been out there listening to us? I wondered. Was he deliberately spying on us?

  The door opened. Larry lowered his head as he loped in. His grin had faded. “Uncle Al wasn’t kidding around,” he said seriously.

  “Yeah. Sure,” Colin replied sarcastically. He went over to his bed and slid beneath the wool blanket.

  “I guess the camp ghost will get us if we go out after lights-out,” Jay joked, tossing a towel across the room.

  “No. No ghost,” Larry said softly. “But Sabre will.” He pulled out his drawer and began searching for something inside it.

  “Huh? Who’s Sabre?” I asked, suddenly wideawake.

  “Sabre is an it,” Larry answered mysteriously.

  “Sabr
e is a red-eyed monster who eats a camper every night,” Colin sneered. He stared at me. “There is no Sabre. Larry’s just giving us another phony camp story.”

  Larry stopped searching his drawer and gazed up at Colin. “No, I’m not,” he insisted in a low voice. “I’m trying to save you guys some trouble. I’m not trying to scare you.”

  “Then what is Sabre?” I asked impatiently.

  Larry pulled a sweater from the drawer, then pushed the drawer shut. “You don’t want to find out,” he replied.

  “Come on. Tell us what it is,” I begged.

  “He isn’t going to,” Colin said.

  “I’ll tell you guys only one thing. Sabre will rip your heart out,” Larry said flatly.

  Jay snickered. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “I’m serious!” Larry snapped. “I’m not kidding, you guys!” He pulled the sweater over his head. “You don’t believe me? Go out one night. Go out and meet Sabre.” He struggled to get his arm into the sweater sleeve. “But before you do,” he warned, “leave me a note with your address so I’ll know where to send your stuff.”

  8

  We had fun the next morning.

  We all woke up really early. The sun was just rising over the horizon to the south, and the air was still cool and damp. I could hear birds chirping.

  The sound reminded me of home. As I lowered myself to the floor and stretched, I thought of my mom and dad and wished I could call them and tell them about the camp. But it was only the second day. I’d be too embarrassed to call them on the second day.

  I was definitely homesick. But luckily there wasn’t any time to feel sad. After we pulled on fresh clothes, we hurried up to the lodge on the hill, which served as a meeting hall, theater, and mess hall.

  Long tables and benches were set up in straight rows in the center of the enormous room. The floorboards and walls were all dark redwood. Redwood ceiling beams crisscrossed high above our heads. There were very few windows, so it felt as if we were in an enormous dark cave.

  The clatter of dishes and cups and silverware was deafening. Our shouts and laughter rang off the high ceiling, echoed off the hardwood walls. Mike shouted something to me from across the table, but I couldn’t hear him because of the racket.