The Horror at Camp Jellyjam
Page 9
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1
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.
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.
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?
2
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!”
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#5 DR. MANIAC VS. ROBBY SCHWARTZ
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ONE DAY AT HORRORLAND
THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY’S TOMB
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
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THE HORROR AT CAMP JELLYJAM
HOW I GOT MY SHRUNKEN HEAD
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First printing, May 2009
“Behind the Screams” bonus material by Matthew D. Payne
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e-ISBN: 978-0-545-40584-3