My plan had worked perfectly.
The kids stopped washing—and King Jellyjam suffocated from his own foul smell!
“Are you okay?” Elliot asked in a trembling voice.
I nodded. “Yes. I think I’m going to be fine.”
Elliot held his nose. “I’ll never complain about Dad’s garden fertilizer again!” he declared.
Cheering and shouting, the other kids climbed to their feet.
“Thank you!” Alicia cried, wrapping me in a hug. The others rushed forward to thank me, too.
There were lots of hugs, lots of tears as we made our way up to the theater and then out into the woods.
“We are out of here!” I cried happily to Elliot.
But we all stopped at the edge of the woods when we saw the counselors.
They all stood in front of us, dozens of them, side by side in their white shirts and shorts. They had formed a line along the path.
And I could see from the hard expressions set on their faces that they had not come to welcome everyone back.
As I stared from face to face, Buddy stepped forward. He gave a signal to the other counselors. “Don’t let them get away!” he cried.
30
The counselors stepped forward, moving in a line. Their expressions remained hard and threatening. They kept their arms at their sides.
They moved stiffly. Like robots. In a trance.
They took two more steps.
Then a shrill whistle broke the silence.
“Stop right there! Everybody freeze!” a man’s voice boomed.
I heard another shrill whistle.
I turned to see several blue-uniformed police officers running up the hill.
The counselors shook their heads, blinked, uttered soft cries. They made no attempt to run.
“Where are we?” I heard Holly mutter.
“What’s happening?” another counselor asked.
They all appeared dazed and confused. The police whistles seemed to have broken the trance that held them.
The other kids and I all cheered happily as the officers swarmed up the hill.
“How did you know we needed help?” I called.
“We didn’t,” an officer replied. “A horrible smell floated into town. We wanted to find out what was causing it. We followed it here!”
I had to laugh. The same smell that had killed the monster had actually saved us kids.
“We didn’t know there was a problem at this camp,” an officer announced. “We’ll contact your parents as soon as we can.”
Elliot and I led the way down the hill. We were so eager to see Mom and Dad!
The counselors muttered to themselves, gazing around, trying to figure out what had happened.
I turned to Buddy as Elliot and I walked past him. “Are you feeling better?” I asked.
He narrowed his blue eyes at me and squinted hard. He didn’t seem to be able to focus. “Only The Best,” he murmured. “Only The Best.”
Elliot and I were never so glad to be home!
“What took you so long to find us?” Elliot demanded.
Mom and Dad shook their heads. “The police checked everywhere, trying to find you two,” Dad replied. “They called the camp several times. The counselor who answered the phone told the police that you weren’t there.”
“We were so worried,” Mom said, biting her bottom lip. “So terribly worried. When we found the trailer empty, we didn’t know what to think!”
“Well, we’re home safe and sound now,” I replied with a grin.
“Maybe you two would like to go away to a real camp next summer,” Dad said.
“Uh… no way!” Elliot and I answered together.
Two weeks later, we had a surprise visitor.
I opened the door to find Buddy on the front stoop. His blond hair was neatly brushed. He wore chinos, a blue-and-white-striped sportshirt, and a dark blue tie.
“I’m so sorry about what happened at camp,” Buddy said.
I was still too shocked at seeing him to reply. I just held on to the door and gaped at him.
“Is Elliot home?” Buddy asked.
“Hi.” Elliot stepped up beside me. “Buddy! What’s up?”
“I brought you this,” Buddy replied. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a gold coin.
“It’s a King Coin,” he told Elliot. “You earned it, remember? You actually won the race.”
Elliot reached out for it. Then stopped. His hand hung in midair.
I knew what my brother was thinking. This would be his sixth King Coin.
Should he take it?
Finally, he grabbed it. “Thanks, Buddy,” Elliot said.
Buddy said good-bye and gave us a wave. Elliot and I watched him get into a car and drive away. Then we closed the door behind us.
“Are you sure you should’ve taken that?” I asked Elliot.
“Why not?” he replied. “That purple monster is dead—right? What could happen?”
Five minutes later, we both smelled the horrible odor at the same time.
“Yuck!” Elliot groaned. He swallowed hard. “Wendy, wh-what’s that smell?” he stammered.
“I—I don’t know,” I replied in a shaky voice.
I heard Mom laugh behind us. We turned to see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I have a pot of brussels sprouts boiling on the stove!”
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R. L. Stine, 33 - The Horror at Camp Jellyjam
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