Camp Nowhere

  We leaned against the rough tree trunks and waited.

  Two green-and-brown ducks floated silently by, carried by the river current. “Quack! Quack!” David called to them.

  Marty clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut up! Ramos will hear you!”

  The ducks turned their heads, as if following our voices. Then they disappeared around the river’s curve, leaving narrow lines of ripples behind them.

  “Where is he?” Erin whispered. She yawned. “What’s taking him so long?”

  “I guess he hasn’t finished his golf lesson,” I muttered.

  “I’m hot, I’m itchy, I’m still soaked, and I’m starving,” Erin complained.

  “Shhhh.” Charlotte raised a finger to her lips. “Listen.”

  Yes. We heard Ramos’s trotting footsteps. His hiking boots thudding the stones on the shore.

  I peeked out from my spot behind the wide tree. Down the sloping hill of trees and tall weeds, I could see Ramos jogging up to the overturned canoes.

  He was carrying the blue life jacket we had floated downstream. But he dropped it to the ground when he saw the canoes.

  David started to giggle as Ramos bent over to study the canoes. Again, Marty clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Check out the look on his face,” Erin whispered.

  Ramos’s face was twisted in a frown. He kept shaking his head, staring at the canoes, shaking his head some more.

  I watched him jump to his feet. He cupped his hands around his mouth and started to shout. “Hey, guys! Hey! Where is everyone? Can you hear me?”

  Ramos kicked a canoe hard. “Hey! Where are you? Are you guys here? Where’d you go?” He lowered his hands and squinted into the woods, his eyes making a complete circle.

  Then he cupped his hands around his mouth again and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Hey, everyone! It’s me! Can you hear me?”

  He stood stiffly with his hands at his waist. Even from so far away, I could see his chest heaving up and down. See him breathing hard.

  He was scared to death.

  Holding on to the tree trunk, Charlotte leaned close. “Should we go down there?” she whispered. “Should we put him out of his misery?”

  “I guess,” I whispered back. I took a step away from the tree.

  “No!” David tugged me back. “Let’s see what he does.”

  “Yeah,” Marty agreed. “Let him sweat it a while longer. I’m enjoying this!”

  I turned back to Ramos. He stood stiffly, one boot resting on an overturned canoe. He shouted for us again. His cries sent birds flapping from the trees.

  Ramos shook his head. He was muttering to himself.

  Finally, he turned and strode off. He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets as he walked. I watched him until he disappeared behind a thick row of shrubs.

  “Where is he going?” Erin whispered.

  “Upstream,” Charlotte answered. “He’s following the river upstream.”

  “He is definitely in a panic,” David said, grinning. “Wow. He is totally messed up.”

  “We let this go on too long,” Charlotte said. “I’m starting to feel kind of bad.”

  “Hey—I worried about riding over Forbidden Falls for months,” Erin replied. “I think it’s okay to make Ramos sweat for a few minutes.”

  “I just don’t think it’s nice. A joke is a joke. But—”

  I stepped between the two girls. “No problem,” I said. “Let’s catch up to him and show him we’re all right.”

  “But where is he going?” Erin asked.

  “Probably back to where all our stuff is,” Marty said. “Maybe he’s hoping we went back there. Or maybe he wants to get the supply canoe.”

  “Well, let’s go catch up with him,” Charlotte said. She started to lead the way down the sloping hill to the riverbank.

  “How about we sneak up behind him and yell ‘Boo!’” David suggested.

  “That’s awesome!” Marty exclaimed. “He’ll jump a mile.”

  We scrambled down to the rocky shore. The water shimmered under the bright sunlight. Our overturned canoes glowed as if on fire.

  I glanced one more time at the lame trickle of water that was Forbidden Falls. How many nights had I stayed awake for hours, worrying about the falls?

  With a sigh, I turned and followed the others. We jogged along the riverbank, jumping over rocks, our shoes sinking into the sandy ground.

  “Where is he?” Charlotte asked. She raised a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. “How did he get so far away from us?”

  “He must be running,” Erin replied. “The poor guy. He’s in such a total panic, he’s running all the way back to where we camped last night.”

  Four brown ducks floated by, heads straight forward, ignoring us. As we jogged, following the river upstream; the water began to toss. The current grew stronger. Waves topped with white foam slapped the shore.

  “Remember how rough this part was?” David said. “We thought it was only the beginning.”

  “Where is Ramos?” Charlotte repeated. “We should be able to see him from here.”

  The river stretched straight into the distance. We could see for miles. No sign of Ramos.

  “Maybe he decided to go for a swim,” David said.

  I wiped sweat off my forehead. “A swim is a great idea!” I exclaimed.

  “Do you think he crossed the river? Or took some kind of shortcut?” Charlotte asked.

  I shielded my eyes and gazed upstream. The trees were tangled and thick on the other side. Sunlight couldn’t poke through the leafy treetops. Beneath them, the ground was as dark as night.

  “Why would he cross the river?” Marty asked.

  “Why did the chicken cross the river?” David said.

  “No jokes, David,” Charlotte said sharply. “If Ramos is heading back to where we camped, we should be able to see him from here.”

  “Are you sure he went this way?” I asked. I turned and gazed down the shore in the other direction.

  “Totally sure,” Charlotte said.

  “Maybe he is already back at our campgrounds,” Marty said. He pulled off his baseball cap and scratched his head. “Think he’ll wait for us?”

  “Not if he thinks we crashed or something,” Charlotte answered.

  “Then we should go back and get the canoes,” Marty said.

  “Get the canoes? Why?” Erin asked.

  “We’ll need them to get back to camp,” Marty replied. “You don’t want to walk all the way back, do you? It would take days.”

  “He’s right,” I agreed. “Let’s get the canoes.”

  We turned and started back. Our shoes crunched over the sand and rocks.

  “Paddling upstream is going to be rough,” Erin muttered.

  “Once we’re past these rapids, we’ll be fine,” Marty told her. “Besides, you want to work on those biceps, right?”

  Erin rolled her eyes in reply.

  “Wow. Look at that tree,” Charlotte said, pointing. “Weird. I don’t remember passing that.”

  The tree was twisted and gnarled. The trunk bent in the middle. The leaves were faded and gray. It reminded me of a bent-over old man.

  “I don’t remember it, either,” I said. “And look at those birds!”

  I was staring at a wall of vines, covered with bright red berries. Dozens of blackbirds clung to the vines, hungrily pecking up the berries.

  “Weird. The birds look as if they’re growing out of the vines,” Marty said.

  “Did we pass this before?” Charlotte asked. “I don’t remember the blackbirds or that bent tree.”

  The riverbank grew rockier as we followed the curve back toward the falls. The five of us started to jog as we neared the canoes.

  Charlotte stopped suddenly. She turned to the rest of us, her face twisted in confusion. “Where are they?” she murmured, “Where are the canoes?”

  I stepped beside her, my eyes searching the riverbank. “Are you sure this
is where we left them?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Charlotte replied sharply.

  I swallowed hard. And stared at the empty ground.

  “Th-they’re gone,” I whispered.

  15

  “Did they slide into the water?” Charlotte asked.

  We turned and stared downriver. No canoes bobbing in the water.

  Marty and David ran farther along the bank, searching both sides of the river. They stopped when they reached the tiny falls and came walking slowly back.

  “No canoes,” David said.

  “I don’t see them anywhere,” Marty called.

  David shook his head and frowned as he stared at the brown river. “Do you think someone took them?” he asked.

  “No way,” I replied. “Who would take them? There’s no one around for miles.”

  “Except for Ramos!” Erin exclaimed, her eyes flashing. “I’ll bet he sneaked back here through the woods. Waited for us to leave. Then he hid the canoes to pay us back for our little joke.”

  I bent down and examined the sand. “No way,” I said. “There are no tracks in the sand. Check it out.”

  We all stared at the sandy ground. No slide marks from the canoes.

  No tracks at all.

  Erin’s mouth dropped open. “And no footprints,” she muttered.

  “She’s right,” I agreed. “If Ramos had returned, he would have left footprints.”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute!” Marty exclaimed. He pulled off his baseball cap again and squinted down at the ground. “Where are our footprints?”

  We all turned to Marty.

  “Our footprints are gone, too,” he said. “This is where we started walking, right? When we tried to follow Ramos? Well? Where are our footprints?”

  I gazed down at the ground. Marty was right. The sand was totally smooth.

  A chill prickled the back of my neck.

  What is going on here? I asked myself.

  I gazed at the smooth, sandy ground, thinking hard. “It means we’re standing in the wrong place,” I said. “This isn’t where we left the canoes. Let’s keep walking.”

  “But this has to be the spot,” Charlotte insisted. “Look. The falls.” She started to point—and let out a startled cry.

  “Oh, wow,” Erin muttered.

  We all saw it at once. The tiny, trickling falls had vanished!

  “But that’s impossible!” Erin gasped. “First our canoes. Then the falls…”

  “We’re definitely in the wrong place,” Charlotte muttered.

  “We’d better start walking,” Marty said. “I’m starving already. And we left all the food at our campground.”

  Charlotte kept staring at the flat river. “I just don’t understand…”

  Erin grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled her away from the edge of the bank. “Come on. Forget about it. We have a long walk. We’ll be able to think better after we have some lunch.”

  We huddled close together as we walked along the shore once again, following the river upstream. A few minutes later, we came to the same gnarled tree we had seen before. Only this time it was on the other side of the river!

  “Whoa! I don’t believe this!” I cried. “That weird tree—it was on this side!”

  “You’re right,” Charlotte agreed. Her eyes bulged in disbelief.

  All five of us stared across the narrow river at the gnarled tree and the wall of vines covered with blackbirds.

  “Totally weird,” David muttered. “Did we cross the river? How did they get on the other side?”

  I turned and saw Erin staring at the water, her eyes wide. She bit her bottom lip. And pointed. “Hey, you guys. That bridge…”

  A narrow wooden bridge crossed the river.

  “We were here before—right?” Erin asked.

  “Yeah. Of course we were,” I replied.

  “But that bridge wasn’t here,” Erin insisted. “Does anyone remember seeing that bridge?”

  Silence.

  We all stared at the old bridge, its boards weathered and cracked.

  “I—I never saw it,” I whispered. “This…this is so creepy!”

  “Give me a break!” David shouted. “We’re all just freaking out here. Because we’re hungry or something. We’ve got to get it together, guys.”

  “We must have crossed the river,” Charlotte said. “We crossed the river and started walking in the wrong direction.”

  “But we didn’t cross!” Erin said. “Everything is…messed up! Everything!”

  My chest suddenly felt fluttery. I gazed at the narrow bridge…at the wall of vines…the gnarled old tree…the smooth sand—no footprints. No footprints at all…

  “I—I don’t like this,” I whispered.

  16

  “This is totally freaking me out,” Erin said. She crossed her arms tightly around herself. “We have to get out of here. Really.”

  “But which way?” Charlotte asked.

  “We know that all our stuff is upstream,” I said. “So we have to follow the river up.”

  “But nothing looks familiar here,” Marty said.

  “We can’t just stand here, talking about this!” Erin cried shrilly. “I’m really freaking here. No kidding. We have to go now!”

  She was hugging herself tightly to stop her trembling. Charlotte put an arm around Erin’s shoulders. She led the way upstream, and we followed.

  “Let’s just keep going,” Charlotte suggested softly. “We’ll come to something. We have to.”

  “I am really starving,” David muttered. “Why did we leave all our stuff?”

  “We thought we’d be back there by now,” Marty said. He handed David a stick of gum. “Here. Take it. It’s all I’ve got.”

  As we followed the river upstream, low clouds rolled over the sky, blocking the sunlight. The sand and rocks gave way to mud.

  “Yuck.” Erin made a face as her sneaker disappeared into wet mud. “It’s a swamp here.”

  Charlotte helped tug Erin away from the shore. “Let’s try walking up there.” We followed her toward the woods.

  But the ground was just as marshy away from the riverbank. We slogged through the mud for at least an hour. No one said a word.

  The sky grew darker. The river curved to the right. The ground became rocky again.

  “We should be very close to the campground,” I said.

  Erin sighed. “If we’re heading the right way.”

  “I think I remember those tall evergreen bushes,” I said, pointing.

  David shook his head. “I never saw them before in my life.”

  “No. I think I’m right,” I insisted. My heart started to pound. I began to feel hopeful. We were nearly there.

  “Right around this bend,” I said. “I think we’ll see our stuff.”

  Without another word, we all started to jog. We followed the curve, trotting in a tight group. Our mud-covered shoes thudded on the hard ground.

  We made the turn and came out in a wide clearing of tall grass and swaying reeds. The river split in two here. Two narrow channels of water ran through the tall grass.

  “Where are we?” Erin moaned. “You said—”

  “I was wrong,” I said softly.

  “Does the river end here? How come it gets so tiny?” David asked.

  “This doesn’t look right at all. We’ve never been here before,” Charlotte said.

  “So where should we go? What should we do?” Erin cried, her voice shrill with panic.

  I dropped wearily onto the grass and crossed my legs in front of me. Then I rested my head on my hands. “We’re lost,” I said. “We’re totally lost.”

  17

  Should we keep walking? Or should we wait here to be rescued?

  We talked and argued and finally decided not to move.

  “Ramos will be searching up and down the river for us,” Marty said. “He’ll probably find us before dark.”

  I wasn’t so sure Ramos was still nearby. I guessed he had tak
en the supply canoe back to camp to tell everyone what had happened. And to gather a rescue party.

  If I was right, he wouldn’t be back for at least another day.

  Luckily, the low clouds rolled away, and it didn’t rain. When night fell, we gathered firewood and built a campfire. I lit it with my plastic lighter.

  My stomach kept growling. We were all hungry. But we couldn’t figure out a way to get food.

  David and Marty tried fishing in the river. They didn’t have strings or hooks or anything. They planned to grab the fish in their hands.

  But the river was so dark and muddy at this point, they couldn’t see any fish. After half an hour or so, they trudged back to shore, wet, cold, and unhappy.

  As the night grew cooler, we huddled around the campfire. We tried singing songs for a while to take our minds off how hungry we were. And then David suggested we take turns telling jokes.

  But no one felt much like laughing.

  Before we went to sleep, we piled sticks and logs on the fire and hoped it would keep burning and keep us warm all night.

  I folded myself into a tight ball on the ground. Staring at the tall, dancing flames, feeling the fire’s warmth, I quickly fell asleep.

  I was awakened sometime later by the soft thud thud of drums.

  I pulled myself up slowly. My body ached from lying on the hard ground. My left hand had fallen asleep. The fire still burned, but the flames were low and purple.

  I listened….

  Yes. The soft, steady beat of Indian drums.

  Trying to shake the pinpricks from my left hand, I sat up and gazed around the fire. Did anyone else hear the drums?

  David and Marty were sound asleep, curled on their sides close to the fire. But I could see that the two girls were awake.

  I crawled over to them. “Do you hear them?” I whispered. “The drums?”

  They both nodded.

  I let out a sigh. I’m not going crazy, I thought. The girls hear them, too.

  Erin shivered. “Where is it coming from?”

  Charlotte tilted her head, listening hard. “It seems to be coming from all around us.”

  “But there are no Indians in these woods,” Erin insisted. “Who would be playing Indian drums?”