Camp Nowhere (2 page)

I knew it was a snake.

I suddenly felt totally weak. My knees started to fold.

My whole body shook.

It wrapped itself around my bare leg. It tightened. Tightened until it sent a tingling sensation up my entire body.

I knew I had to look. “Come on Russell. You can do it,” I said to myself. Finally, I glared down—and saw a tangle of fat black-and-yellow snakes at my feet. Crawling all over each other, they slithered silently through the tall weeds, around my legs, over my shoes.

The dog stood in silence now, pressed against the stone wall. His whole body trembling, he stared at the snakes.

“Russell—what’s happening?” Charlotte shouted up. “Russell?”

“S-snakes!” I managed to choke out.

I heard my friends’ startled gasps.

“A lot of snakes!” I cried. “Maybe a hundred!”

A long yellow snake slithered between my boots. Another snake wrapped its scratchy, dry body around my ankle. I saw more snakes winding toward me through the weeds.

“Wow! It
wasn’t
a camp legend!” I heard Marty say from down below.

“Russell—don’t move!” Charlotte yelled. “Don’t make a sound.”

“That’s what the counselors said to do,” Marty called. “Stand as still as a statue.”

“I—I’m trying,” I called back in a whisper. But my legs were shaking so hard, I
couldn’t
stand still!

“What are we going to do?” I heard Erin cry, her voice shrill with panic. “We’re all alone out here!”

“Can you get to the edge?” Marty called. “If you jump, maybe we can catch you.”

I turned and gazed over the side of the narrow ledge. It looked a long way down.

If I leap over the side, I’ll break my neck, I thought.

And what about Harvey? With all that barking and crying, the dog had been trying to warn me about the snakes. I couldn’t just leave him up here.

“Can you jump, Russell?” Charlotte called.

“N-no,” I stammered.

My brain whirred. I struggled to think clearly. What could I do?

Then I remembered the red plastic lighter in my pocket. I carry it around everywhere. It’s sort of a good-luck charm.

If I can pull it out and flick it on, maybe the flame will scare the snakes away, I thought.

Slowly, slowly I began to lower my hand into the pocket of my shorts.

But then everything happened too fast.

I heard a hissing sound. It sounded like air escaping a tire.

I looked down—a fat black-and-yellow snake pulled back its head, arching for an attack. It hissed another ugly warning.

Barking ferociously, Harvey roared forward.

With a louder hiss, the snake shot its head forward. Its jaws snapped at Harvey. Missed.

I pulled back my leg—and kicked hard.

Got him. The snake sailed into the air.

But Harvey couldn’t stop. The big dog leaped onto me.

I snatched Harvey up in my arms—and the two of us toppled off the narrow ledge.

“Ohhhh.” I landed hard on my back.

Pain swept over my body. I felt the air
whoosh
out of me.

I saw a flash of red—the brightest red I’d ever seen.

And then black…. Only black.

I thought I was dead meat.

I opened my eyes to find my four friends leaning over me. Charlotte was shaking me, chanting, “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

I only had the wind knocked out of me. My friends helped me to my feet. It took me a while to shake off my dizziness. Then we made our way back to camp with Harvey leading the way.

Charlotte insisted that Dr. Larry, the camp doctor, check me out. He examined me for snakebites, then for broken bones. No problem.

Charlotte was waiting for me outside the doc’s cabin. The sun had fallen behind the trees. A cool
wind made the lake ripple with low waves. The waves made a gentle slapping sound on the grassy shore.

Canoes bobbed like dark fish at the small dock. The canoes reminded me that our trip to Forbidden Falls was a week away.

Charlotte must have been reading my mind. “Ramos is going to talk about the falls at the campfire tonight,” she said. “He is going to tell the legend.”

I rolled my eyes. “Again?”

She pulled me to a wide old maple tree near the shore. “Where are we going?” I asked. “I have to go back to my bunk. You know. Get changed for the campfire.”

She frowned at me. “I know why you climbed that rock wall,” she said softly.

“Yeah. To rescue Harvey,” I said.

Charlotte shook her head. “No. The real reason. You were trying to prove to everyone that you’re not a wimp.”

“No way!” I protested.

“I know you’re sick of everyone giving you a hard time,” Charlotte continued. “I know you’re tired of everyone teasing you, Russell. But you went too far. You could have hurt yourself.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied sarcastically.

“I’m just trying to help you,” Charlotte snapped. Her blue eyes flashed. “Those snakes—they’re deadly!”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I muttered.

I let out a long sigh. “You know, this hasn’t been the greatest summer. First, I couldn’t finish the swim across the lake because I got that cramp. Then I got those red splotches all over my body, and I had to drop off the soccer team.”

“I know, I know,” Charlotte said.

“And then I started screaming like a baby when I thought Ramos was a grizzly bear.”

“Can’t you just forget about that?” Charlotte asked.

“How
can
I?” I yelled. “No one will
let
me forget it! Kids tease me about it every day. Even my best friends! I should just wear a sign around my neck:
CAMP WIMP
.”

“You don’t have to shout,” Charlotte said. “I was just trying to help. How are you going to enjoy anything at camp if you keep going over and over these things?”

“I’m going to enjoy camp by being the bravest one who goes over the falls!” I declared. I gave her a quick wave, then took off toward my cabin. “Let’s get going. We’re going to be late.”

The boys’ cabins were on the steep hill that overlooked Camp Hawkwood. The girls’ cabins were clustered down by the lake.

The senior campers’ cabin stood at the very top. By the time I climbed the hill, I was sweaty and panting.

Marty and David had already showered and changed into jeans and sweatshirts. They asked me how it went with Dr. Larry. Then they headed out to the campfire.

I showered and changed. The windows were open, and a cold breeze swept through the cabin. I shivered. The July sun was strong during the day. But as soon as it disappeared, the air turned as cool as autumn.

I straightened my camp sweatshirt and made my way out the door. I could see everyone gathering at the meeting grounds in the middle of the camp. And I could smell hot dogs roasting on the grill. I started to jog.

I was nearly down the hill when I heard Marty’s alarmed shout: “Look out, Russell—that cotton-mouth followed you!”

I stopped. “Whoa.” I shook my head. “No way, Marty. No way I’m falling for that dumb trick!”

Then I felt the snake drop onto my shoulder.

I let out a frightened scream and shook my whole body, trying to throw the snake off.

I could already hear kids laughing. I knew I’d been tricked again.

My heart still pounding, I spun around—and saw David dangling a rope over my shoulder. He and Marty slapped each other a high-five and collapsed on the ground, giggling.

“Not funny,” I muttered through clenched teeth. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. I knew I was blushing.

There is only one way to stop their jokes, I thought as I hurried away from them. I have to prove to them I’m brave—no matter what it takes.

Campers were lined up at the grill to get their hot dogs. Two counselors—Ramos and Corey—were struggling to light the campfire. The logs must have been wet. The kindling sizzled and smoked but wouldn’t light.

I pulled out my red lighter and flicked the flame high. “Let me try,” I said, bumping Corey out of the way. I held the flame under the kindling until it finally caught fire.

“Way to go, Russell!” Ramos clapped me hard on the back. I nearly went flying into the fire. “You’re a hero!”

“I heard you saved Harvey’s life,” Corey said. A grin spread over his face. “Well, actually, I heard you fell off the rock cliff and Harvey landed on top of you.”

Both counselors laughed.

“That’s not what happened,” I said angrily. “I was attacked by snakes, and I fought them off.”

“That’s cool,” Ramos said, nodding his head. One of his favorite expressions. He kicked the fire. “Get yourself some food, Russell. As soon as the logs catch, I’m going to start the meeting.”

The campfire crackled and sent purple embers shooting into the sky. The sun had gone down. The air had grown cold. The dancing red flames were our only light.

The tangy smell of the barbecued hot dogs lingered in the air. Somewhere in the distance, a bird hooted, a sad, lonely sound.

We huddled in a tight circle around the fire. Tucking my legs under me, I glanced around at the faces, orange in the firelight.

Marty and David sat together across the fire from me. They were laughing about something. Marty grabbed David’s baseball cap and shoved it low over David’s face. I saw Charlotte sitting with Erin and some girls from another cabin.

Ramos stepped into the center of the circle. He is big and powerful looking, with broad shoulders and muscle-man arms. Some of the other counselors call him Truck, but I don’t think he likes it.

Ramos is twenty or so. He has long, straight black hair that he pulls back in a ponytail. He has round, black eyes, heavy eyebrows, and a thick black mustache he calls his
bandito
mustache.

Ramos hardly ever smiles. He speaks slowly, in a soft voice, and walks around camp with his eyes narrowed to slits, like a gunfighter looking for a fight.

He says he is descended from one of the Indian tribes that used to live near the lake. He told us he lives on his own in the woods and survives by hunting and fishing.

But Erin, who works part-time in the camp office, found out he actually lives in Shaker Heights in Ohio. And he’s a student at Oberlin College.

He is a great storyteller. Which is one of the reasons everyone likes him. He’s the most popular counselor at Camp Hawkwood. Even more popular than Priscilla, the girls’ senior counselor, who looks like a supermodel.

Standing with the fire behind him, his dark eyes moving from face to face, Ramos raised his arms for quiet. “Tonight, I am going to tell once again the legend of Forbidden Falls,” he announced.

“In a few days, our five senior campers will leave on the two-day trip to the falls. They have heard the legend many times. But it is repeated every year for the new campers, who will have to face the terrors of the falls in the near future.”

A log split in the fire, sending up a burst of red sparks. A couple of girls jumped, startled by the
crack
of the log.

“The story starts one hundred and fifty years ago,” Ramos began. “This forest and lake and all the land for hundreds of miles was controlled by the Onanoga Indian tribe. To this tribe, the falls was a sacred place.

“It was known as the Pure Place. No one was allowed to bathe in the waters that flowed from the falls. No one was even allowed to step into those waters.”

In the distance, the bird hooted again. The night air felt heavy and damp. I leaned closer to the fire.

“During the Civil War, a unit of Union soldiers came to the river,” Ramos continued. “The men were tired and dirty. They admired the steep, raging waterfall. Then they stripped off their uniforms and bathed in the river.

“They defiled the waters. They dirtied the waters.
For the Indians, their Pure Place was destroyed forever.

“The tribe put a curse on the falls. They gave it a new name—Forbidden Falls.

“Soon after, the Indians were driven away. They were all forced from their land. The falls continued to roar—with no one to hear it.”

Ramos shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him. His dark eyes flashed in the light of the darting fire.

“Now we come to more modern times,” he said. “Several years ago, a group of boys from Camp Hawkwood went on a long canoe trip. On the second day, they discovered the falls.

“They stared in amazement at the steep drop, at the foaming, rushing white water. They didn’t know anything about the falls. They didn’t know about its history—or about the curse.

“These campers were looking for adventure. For thrills. They decided to take their canoes over the falls. Whooping and shouting and laughing, they braved the white water. And do you know what happened to them?”

Silence. No one answered.

“They crashed?” a girl finally said.

Ramos shook his head. He narrowed his dark eyes. “They disappeared—never to be seen again. Five campers. Twelve years old. Just like you. We don’t know what happened to them,” he said in a
soft voice just above a whisper. “They rode their canoes over Forbidden Falls. They splashed into the river below.
And they were never seen again!

“No sign of the boys’ canoes,” Ramos continued. “No life jackets. No clothes. No canoe paddles. No sign of the boys. All vanished.”

He had been talking so softly, but now he raised his voice. “And here is the strangest thing of all,” he said. “The strangest thing of all. For years afterward, the missing boys’ parents received letters from them—letters about how much they were enjoying camp!”

Silence. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the soft rush of the wind.

And then I heard a laugh. And recognized David’s high giggle.

Ramos turned slowly to face David across the fire. “I hope you are still laughing
after
your trip next week,” he told him.

Ramos motioned to David with both hands. “Come on. Stand up. Get over here. You, too, Marty.” He gazed around the circle of campers. “I need all five senior campers up here,” he said.

I knew what this was about, but I still felt a chill at the back of my neck. It was moment-of-silence time.

The five of us lined up in front of the fire. David and Marty were having a playful shoving match. Ramos quickly broke it up.

“Grow up,” Erin muttered.

“What for?” David replied.

Ramos put one big hand on David’s shoulder, the other on Marty’s. He turned them toward the fire. We all faced the flames.

“Every year, we gather here and hold a moment of silence,” Ramos announced. “A moment of silence for the five brave campers who will go up against Forbidden Falls next week.”

Charlotte glanced at me. Was she looking to see if I was scared or something? I turned away and stared into the glowing flames.

“We hold a moment of silence and hope they will return safely,” Ramos continued. “Let us all shut our eyes now and listen to the silence of the night.”

Total quiet now. Even the wind grew softer.

I shut my eyes. Another chill rolled down my back. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets.

What was that sound? I listened hard. At first, I thought I was hearing the crack of the fire. But the sound was steady. A steady rhythm.

Drums?

Yes. A gentle
thud thud thud
. Indian drums. So soft…so far away…

I opened my eyes. I felt someone there, someone behind me. I glanced back.

No. No one.

I stared into the fire. And listened to the steady pounding of the drums.

Thud thud thud
.

My four friends remained facing the fire, their eyes shut tightly.

Don’t they hear it? I wondered. Don’t they hear it, too?