09 - Welcome to Camp Nightmare (4 page)

“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 purple 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!”

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 wide-awake.

“Sabre is an
it,”
Larry answered mysteriously.

“Sabre 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.”

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.

Some guys complained about the food, but I thought it was okay. We had
scrambled egg squares, bacon strips, fried potatoes, and toast, with tall cups
of juice. I never eat a breakfast that big at home. But I found that I was
really starved, and I gobbled it up.

After breakfast we lined up outside the lodge to form different activity
groups. The sun had climbed high in the sky. It was going to be really hot. Our
excited voices echoed off the sloping hill. We were all laughing and talking,
feeling good.

Larry and two other counselors, clipboards in hand, stood in front of us,
shielding their eyes from the bright sun as they divided us into groups. The
first group of about ten boys headed off to the river for a morning swim.

Some people have all the luck,
I thought. I was eager to get to the
waterfront and see what the river was like.

As I waited for my name to be called, I spotted a pay phone on the wall of
the lodge. My parents flashed into my mind again.
Maybe I
will
call
them later,
I decided. I was so eager to describe the camp to them and tell
them about my new friends.

“Okay, guys. Follow me to the ball field,” Larry instructed us. “We’re going
to play our first game of scratchball.”

About twelve of us, including everyone from my bunk, followed Larry down the
hill toward the flat grassy area that formed the playing field.

I jogged to catch up to Larry, who always seemed to walk at top speed,
stretching out his long legs as if he were in a terrible hurry. “Are we going to
swim after this?” I asked.