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WELCOME TO CAMP SLITHER
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ENTER HORRORLAND
The Story So Far…
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TEASER
FEAR FILE #9
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO AVAILABLE
COPYRIGHT
You know that jumpy kind of feeling when you just can’t keep still? You want to hop around or run really fast or do a crazy dance?
That’s the feeling I had as I climbed onto the camp bus. Yeah, my sister, Heather, and I were totally psyched.
We love summer camp. We love being outdoors and hanging out with other kids — and no parents around. Heather and I are really into animals and learning about bugs and snakes and all kinds of creatures.
We have two rabbits we keep in a pen behind our garage. And we have a hamster and an old box turtle and two dogs — Rusty and Max — one for each of us, although they both like Heather better than me.
Camp Hither is supposed to be an excellent wilderness camp. At least, that’s what Mom and Dad said. So yes, Heather and I were excited.
My little sister — I’m twelve and she’s ten — had only one complaint. “I’m always away from home for my birthday,” she said. “So I can never have a birthday party.”
“So?” I said. “Who told you to be born in the summer?”
She gave me that cold stare she always gives me, with her eyes half closed and her mouth all twisted. “Boone, give me a ding-dong break.”
That’s one of her favorite expressions. She heard it from our grandmother. Mom and Dad think she’s a riot. I don’t really get it. Who talks like that who isn’t, like, eighty years old?
Heather doesn’t look like she’s in the same family as me. I’m tall and thin. I have short, straight black hair and dark brown eyes.
I’m a jumpy kind of dude. I mean, I’ve got a lot of energy. It’s hard to sit still. I’m always tapping my fingers on something or bopping around.
Dad says I’m the original Energizer Bunny. Ha-ha. Why does everyone in my family think they’re a comedian?
Heather has very curly hair and green eyes. She’s about a foot shorter than me, and a little chubby. I’d never tell her that. I mean, I learned my lesson.
Once I was kind of angry, and I called her Chubs. I know. It was dumb.
She gave me a really hard punch in the stomach. Which I still think about. I walked around bent over, looking like the number seven, for about a week.
Heather likes to punch people. She thinks she’s so cute, she can get away with it.
She’s very strange. She likes to wear all kinds of bracelets and rings and sparkly things and dangly plastic earrings.
I told her no one else in her class wears that stuff. And she stuck her tongue out at me and made a loud spitting noise.
Anyway, we heaved our bags into the luggage compartment of the yellow camp bus. Then we said good-bye to Mom and Dad, with hugs all around.
Heather gave me a push toward the bus door. I told you, she’s always pushing and punching me. She’s totally dangerous.
I climbed the three steps onto the bus. It took a while for my eyes to adjust. I could see a lot of kids were already on board.
Heather followed me as I started down the narrow aisle to the back. And I heard the bus driver mutter, “Two more victims.” Then he shut the door.
What did he mean by that?
I saw two empty seats on the aisle near the back of the bus. I plopped down into one of them and shoved my backpack under the seat in front of me.
Some kids near the driver were tossing a blue Nerf football back and forth. Two girls were singing a camp song I knew from my old camp.
The bus made a roaring sound — and lurched forward before Heather sat down. She fell on me, and her elbow jammed right into my gut.
“Oof.”
Did that hurt? Three guesses, and they’re all yes.
My sister didn’t apologize, of course. Instead, she pulled herself up and yelled at the bus driver, “Give me a ding-dong break!”
That made some kids laugh. Heather didn’t care. She sat down and started talking instantly to the girl next to her.
I turned to look at the kid next to me. He was staring through big black-framed eyeglasses at a manga book in his lap. He was moving his lips as he read it. He didn’t look up.
Why didn’t he say hi or something? I guessed maybe he was shy.
He was about my age. He had white-blond hair cut really short and pale blue eyes behind the glasses. He was maybe the palest guy I ever saw.
You know what flashed into my mind? A zombie in a movie I watched over at my friend’s house a couple nights before.
The dude wasn’t a freak or anything. It’s just that, with that white-blond hair, everything blended into everything.
And he was wearing a white T-shirt and baggy white cargo shorts.
And what was he squeezing in the hand that didn’t hold the manga book? Was that a rabbit’s foot?
“Where’s the rest of the rabbit?” I asked. “In your backpack?”
I know it was a lame joke. But I thought it was a little funny. He smiled. But he didn’t laugh. He did raise his eyes from the comic, though.
He held up the rabbit’s foot. “It’s kind of a good-luck thing,” he said.
I took it from his hand. Yucko. It was wet from his sweat.
“I’m Boone Dixon,” I said. “That’s my sister, Heather.” I pointed.
“I’m Ronny McDonald,” I thought he said. A car horn honked. I couldn’t really hear him.
I laughed. “Your name is Ronald McDonald? Weird!”
He shook his head. “Roddy McDonald.”
I handed him back his rabbit’s foot. “You really think you’re gonna need good luck?” I asked.
He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I heard some things about this camp,” he said softly. “Kinda scary things.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He shrugged again. He glanced out the window. I don’t think he wanted to talk about it. “Snakes,” he said finally.
I waited for him to say more. Farms and flat green fields passed by outside the bus window.
“Some kids at school said stuff about snakes in the lake,” Roddy said, turning to me. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide. The kid really looked frightened.
“These kids read about it online. They said the counselors make you swim with the snakes,” Roddy said. He twirled his damp rabbit’s foot in his hand. “You have to swim across the lake. And the snakes … the snakes …”
I felt sorry for the dude. Some kids at his school told him a bunch of baloney, and he believed it.
“I tried to tell my parents,” Roddy said. “But they thought I was making it up so I wouldn’t have to go to camp.”
“You’re a first-timer, right?” I said. “Don’t you know kids always tell scary camp stories to frighten new campers? It’s just what kids do. You know. It’s a tradition.”
“Not this time,” Roddy said. “They didn’t make it up.”
The manga book fell out of his lap. He leaned down to get it. When he sat
back up, his face was still filled with fear.
“Know what they call this camp?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Camp Hither.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Everyone who goes there calls it Camp Slither. Because of all the snakes.”
I laughed. He looked so serious, I just couldn’t help it. “Roddy,” I said, “I’ve been to two different wilderness camps. Camps are fun. I had an awesome time. So will you.”
He swallowed hard. “Those kids told me other snake stories —”
“They made them up!” I cried. “They were just trying to scare you.”
He stared at me.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Let’s ask some kids who were at Camp Hither last summer. They’ll tell you the truth.”
I stood up. The bus was filled with campers. Every seat. Kids were laughing and talking.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Hey, everyone! Everyone! Who was at this camp last year? I need to talk to you.”
Some kids turned around to stare at me. No hands went up.
“How many?” I asked. “Don’t all raise your hands at once.”
No one. Not one.
I gazed down the long aisle. “All new campers?” I asked.
Some kids nodded their heads. Others turned around and went back to what they were doing.
I dropped back onto my seat. “Weird,” I muttered.
“See? I’m right, Boone,” Roddy said. “No one ever goes back to this camp.”
His whole body shuddered. “M-maybe it’s because no one survives,” he stammered.
“Roddy — that’s impossible,” I said. “This is the bus for new kids, that’s all. They probably sent another bus for old campers. There will be lots of —”
I stopped short — and gasped. I heard a sharp rattling sound. Right next to me.
“A snake!” Roddy screamed. “It’s a SNAKE!”
“NOOOOOOOOO!”
Kids screamed. Two girls cracked heads as they tried to dive out of their seats. Roddy raised his arms in front of him like a shield.
I heard the rattle again. The warning from a rattlesnake that it’s about to strike.
I turned — and saw Heather laughing. She had her hand raised. She was shaking the bracelet around her wrist. Making it rattle.
Dad brought the bracelet back from a business trip to India. It’s a silver bangle with pebbles inside. The pebbles make a loud rattle when she shakes her arm.
I should have known!
That rattling bracelet fools me every time. I’m sure that’s why Heather wears it.
I grabbed Heather’s hand and pushed it down to her lap.
She shrugged. “Oops. Didn’t mean to cause a ding-dong riot!”
“False alarm!” I shouted. “False alarm! There’s no snake!”
Kids climbed back into their seats. It took a long time for everyone to calm down.
I turned to Roddy. He was pressed against the window. He squeezed his rabbit’s foot. He looked even paler than before.
“See what I mean?” he said. “Everyone’s freaked out. Know why? Because they’ve heard the stories about Camp Hither, too.”
“Roddy, there aren’t any snakes in the lake,” I repeated. “The kids who told you that were just trying to scare you.”
“They told me other stories,” he said softly, gazing out the window. “About a snake. A very big snake.”
I shook my head. I started to tell him to lighten up. But my sister tapped me on the shoulder.
“Do you think Mom and Dad will send my birthday presents to camp?” she asked. “Or do you think they’ll forget like last summer?”
I shook my fist in the air. “Heather, do you want to live to be eleven? Then, stop talking about your birthday!”
“Shut your dirty doodad!” she snapped.
That’s another one of our grandmother’s favorite expressions. I don’t know why Heather keeps repeating them. Is she weird or what?
A few minutes later, the bus pulled off the road and began to bounce along a gravel driveway. We passed a large wooden sign that read: WELCOME TO CAMP HITHER! LIFE IN THE WILD!
“Hey, we’re here!” I cried.
Kids cheered and shouted, bounced up and down in their seats, and slapped high fives. The bus driver honked the horn five or six times.
We rolled through thick woods. Patches of purple and red wildflowers lined the gravel drive. Through the trees, I could see a blue lake in the distance, surrounded by tall grass.
The bus squealed to a stop. Everyone jumped up. We pushed and shoved each other in our rush to get out of the bus.
Blinking in the bright sunlight, I gazed around. The bus had parked in front of a group of small cabins used for supplies. They were made of wood, painted white.
I saw tetherball poles in front of each cabin. And at one end, a wide, grassy soccer field. Behind the field, a steep green hill led to more buildings. Thick woods surrounded the whole camp.
The bus driver started to pull our bags from the luggage hold. And a grinning man came running toward us across the gravel parking lot.
He was tall and thin and very tan. He had a black mustache and sleek, shiny black hair brushed straight back from his forehead.
“Yo, everyone! Yo!” he called, waving as he came trotting toward us. “Welcome!”
He wore baggy khaki shorts and a brown sweatshirt with a large coiled snake printed on the front. The snake had its jaws open as if it was ready to snap.
Roddy poked me in the ribs. “See what I mean?” he whispered. “See? It’s all about snakes.”
“Roddy, it’s a wilderness camp — remember?” I said. “Forget those stories. Forget —”
The man turned around and I read the name on the back of his sweatshirt. In snaky black letters, it said:
DR. CRAWLER.
Roddy’s eyes bulged. He poked me again.
I jumped away from him. The kid was giving me bruises.
“It’s just the dude’s name,” I told him. “Stop being so crazy.”
Roddy lowered his eyes. “S-sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll try. I … I don’t know why my parents sent me to this camp. I said I’d rather go to diet camp! Anything but this!”
I laughed. I thought he was making a joke. But he was totally serious.
“Welcome, people!” Dr. Crawler shouted. “Welcome! I’m the head counselor here.”
He had a soft voice. When he spoke, his black mustache wiggled up and down.
He brushed a fly off my shoulder. “What’s your name, son?” he asked.
“Boone Dixon,” I said.
He smiled. “Welcome to Camp Hither.” He waved to a tall black-haired boy in long blue basketball shorts and a sleeveless blue net T-shirt with a Nike swoosh across the front. The boy was helping to unload the bus.
“Nathan, over here!” Dr. Crawler shouted. “Boone is one of your campers.”
Nathan came trotting over. He was maybe eighteen or nineteen. His black hair was scraggly and fell down to his shoulders. He had a silver ring in one ear.
He had a fake tattoo of a bat on the back of one hand. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the front of his T-shirt.
“Whussup?” he asked. “How ya doin’? Guess I’m your counselor.”
Dr. Crawler rounded up the other kids in our group. Roddy was one. And two other guys our age, Sid and Kelly.
They were both tall, with short brown hair and brown eyes. Kelly had a nice smile. Sid looked kind of serious.
Nathan lined the four of us up in front of him. “You’re my guys,” he said. “You got a problem, you come to me.”
“I’ve got a problem,” Roddy murmured.
Nathan squinted at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Are there a lot of snakes in the lake?” Roddy asked.
Nathan shrugged. “I don’t think so. Why? You like snakes? I could find you some snakes. You guys want to go on a snake hunt?”
“No!” Roddy shouted. “
I mean, I don’t like snakes.”
Nathan’s eyes flashed. He grinned at Roddy. “Ever eat snake meat? Yummmm.”
Roddy made a disgusted face. “That’s sick.”
“What does it taste like?” Kelly asked.
“Kinda like chicken,” Nathan said. “Only snakier.” He waved one arm. “Follow me, guys.”
He led us away from the parking lot, toward the wooden cabins up ahead. Our sneakers thudded on the soft dirt.
“Where are we going?” Roddy asked. “To our cabin? Does our cabin have a bathroom in it?”
“You have to see the nurse first,” Nathan replied.
“The nurse?” Roddy squeaked. “Are we getting a shot?”
“Take a deep breath,” Nathan told him. “You’re kinda wired, aren’t you?”
“But I don’t get it,” Roddy said, trotting to keep up with the rest of us. “Why do we have to see the nurse?”
“It’s the rule,” Nathan said.
The nurse greeted us in the doorway of her little shack. She looked about as old as my grandmother. She had a red-and-white Cincinnati Reds cap pulled down over her gray hair. She wore a plaid flannel shirt over baggy jeans.
“Y’all can call me Nurse April,” she said. “I’m always here. If y’all can’t find me in my clinic, look for me at the mess hall.”
Nurse April raised a tall spray can in one hand. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she said.
She grabbed my shoulder with the other hand. And began spraying a sticky orange liquid on my skin.
My skin tingled. I suddenly felt weird. “Hey!” I shouted. “What are you doing? Stop! What is this stuff?”
“It’s Super Glue,” Nathan said. “I like my guys to stick together.” He laughed.
“Y’all will get used to Nathan,” Nurse April said. “He has a strange sense of humor … because he comes from another planet.”
She turned me around and sprayed the back of my neck. “Relax, fella,” she said. “It’s called Sun-Glo. It’s sun protection.”
She moved to Sid and started spraying it up and down one of his legs. The orange liquid dripped down onto his white sweat socks.
“We are very careful about sun protection here at Camp Hither,” Nurse April said.
“You’ll find cans of Sun-Glo in your cabin,” Nathan said. “I want you guys to spray yourselves with it twice a day.”