by Mary McCoy
The girl with beads in her hair hung back as they fought, too afraid to step between these two preternaturally strong creatures, and not entirely sure what she would be intervening in. Robin thought Tania was behind the sabotage and had come here to confront her about it, but it was clear that Tania was convinced the opposite was true.
“You can’t win,” said Tania, sneering in Robin’s face. “I’ll always be stronger.”
Robin refused to surrender. She let the walkie-talkie fall from her good hand, grabbed a hank of Tania’s hair, and pulled it as hard as she could. Tania shrieked and let go of Robin’s wrist, her hands flying to her scalp. Robin fell backwards, clutching a handful of Tania’s golden hair, the other arm dangling limp at her side.
They only nursed their wounds for a second before both were back on their feet, rushing at one another, throwing punches, kicks, and curses. Neither trusted the other, both seemed ready to fight until they’d torn the other to shreds, and the girl with beads in her hair realized that no one in the audience had moved to help either of them.
And then she knew.
It was them. The audience. The stagehands. Tania’s minions. They were behind this. They were the ones who’d tried to kill Cabin 5, and done who knows what else.
And if Tania and Robin were at one another’s throats, and each was accusing the other of orchestrating the chaos, it was playing right into their hands.
“STOP!” shouted the girl with beads in her hair.
She knew that if they’d just quit fighting for a minute, they’d see it, too, and maybe they’d know why it was happening or who was behind it.
But by the time the girl with beads in her hair shouted at them, it was already too late, and when Tania and Robin lowered their fists, it wasn’t because of anything she’d said. It wasn’t because they were tired of fighting. It wasn’t even because of the murmur that rose up from the audience or the way they all began to shift in their seats.
It was because at that moment, Inge F. Yancey IV, famed and reclusive businessman and philanthropist, stepped out onto the stage, drew an old-fashioned pistol from a holster concealed beneath his suitcoat, and fired two shots.
CABIN 4
SOUL MATES
[SCENE: After being reunited with their soul mates, and after their soul mates are reunited with their whole selves, they make a break for freedom.]
Erin’s friend Cressida, from Cabin 1, had told them to run, and so they did. Verity and the others fled to the wings, but it was dark and they weren’t familiar with the backstage area. Verity could hear shuffling feet and confused whispers. Hands flailed in the dark and grasped onto each other, desperate not to be separated and lost.
After a long moment, Verity heard Erin’s voice and reached toward it.
“What’s going on?” she asked, as her fingers linked with Erin’s. “What are we supposed to do?”
But the voice that answered her wasn’t Erin’s.
“Follow me,” it said. “I’m Dora. From Cabin 1.”
“Where are we going?” Erin whispered.
“Out the back,” Dora said. “We’ll wait for the others to join us, and after that, we’re getting out of here.”
It sounded like a good plan to Verity. Still holding Erin’s hand, she grabbed onto Dora’s shoulder and let her lead them through a stage door, then down a dimly lit hallway. Verity looked back over her shoulder and saw that they were all there—all the girls from Cabin 4 (and thankfully, only one Addison now), all their soul mates, and two black-haired girls with retro bouffant hairstyles that Verity had never seen before but whom Dora seemed to know.
“The door’s just around the corner,” Dora said. “I’ll be back with Kadie and Cressida in two minutes.”
But when they turned the corner, standing between them and the exit were a dozen men and women dressed in black pants and turtlenecks.
Erin gasped.
“Stagehands,” she said. Then clutching Verity’s hand, she turned to run.
With lightning-quick reflexes, one of the men stepped forward and caught Erin.
“No,” he said. “Nothing like that.”
“We’re with Mr. Yancey,” said one of the women, circling around the girls from Cabin 4 and the soul mates until she was standing at the back of their group. “We’re here to help you.”
Addison’s soul mate, Tad, whirled around to face her, his eyes narrowed.
“Now?” he asked. “About a year ago would have been nice.”
“We came as soon as we were alerted to the situation,” said the man, who had not yet let go of Erin’s arm.
Alix looked back over her shoulder nervously.
“Well, get us out of here then,” she said.
By now the rest of the men and women in black turtlenecks had fanned out around them, surrounding them completely. Verity didn’t like what she saw in Erin’s face, the tension in her jaw, the worry line that creased her forehead.
Their eyes met, and Erin’s said, Run, and Verity’s replied, Where?
“First, we’ll need the five of you to come with us.”
The man who’d been holding on to Erin started to pull her away from Verity. The woman who’d said they worked for Mr. Yancey grabbed Tad. Three more men in black turtlenecks grabbed Alix’s skateboarding soul mate, and Amber’s guitar player, and Annika’s boy with the rockabilly pompadour.
“What’s going on?” Erin asked. Her voice had a hard edge, but Verity could hear a quaver just beneath the surface.
The man holding her arm cleared his throat.
“Back in the real world, you and your friends here just disappeared from your beds in the middle of the night. Or at least, that’s how it will look to your families if we don’t get you back immediately,” he said.
Of course, Verity thought. Each one of the soul mates had been split in half, and when they’d kissed, those halves had been reunited here. There would be 911 calls and missing persons reports and panicking parents. And if it just so happened that four boys and one girl who’d gone to Camp So-and-So the previous summer had disappeared on the same night, it would attract attention. People would start asking questions, poking around the camp. If Inge F. Yancey IV knew even half the things that went on here, Verity was sure that scrutiny would be the last thing he wanted.
But if Inge F. Yancey IV knew even half the things that went on here—knew even a quarter of them—what kind of monster would that make him? Verity wondered.
“You don’t have to haul them off like criminals,” Addison said, shooting murderous looks at each of Inge F. Yancey IV’s hired guns. “It’s not like they did anything wrong.”
Tad looked at each of them, like he was nervous that Addison’s words might set them off, might result in someone getting hurt.
“We’ll go with you,” he said, “but let us say good-bye first.”
The woman holding on to Tad’s arm said, “Make it fast. We’re in a bit of a rush, and Mr. Yancey’s orders were clear.”
Verity turned to Erin, suddenly overwhelmed by a hundred thoughts at once. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have more time. Verity was terrified she’d never see Erin again, that this moment in the hallway, on the run and surrounded by a shady security team, was the last time she’d see her face.
“I don’t even know where you live,” Verity said.
Erin reached out and touched Verity’s face, her fingertips tracing the contours of her cheek.
“Cleveland,” she said.
As Verity laid her hand on top of Erin’s, she realized she wasn’t the only one losing her. And she only had to lose Erin once. Cressida had just gotten her back, and now, she wouldn’t even have a chance to say good-bye.
“Cressida,” she said.
“Tell her what happened,” Erin said. “Tell her I’ll see her when she gets home.”
Verity looked down the hallway and listened for footsteps. Dora and the other girls from Cabin 1 should have been coming any minute. Erin could t
ell Cressida those things herself.
But the hallway stayed empty.
“I’ll tell her,” Verity said.
“Thank you,” Erin said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “For everything.”
It sounded so final the way she said it, but before Verity could tell her to wait, or promise that they’d see each other again, she felt a sharp tug, and Erin was pulled away from her and down the hall by the man in the black turtleneck.
The girls from Cabin 4 reacted differently as their soul mates were ripped away from them. Alix burst into tears. Addison tried to chase after Tad and was restrained by two men in black turtlenecks. Amber stood there without saying a word, her face devastated by sadness.
But Annika was the first to look away, the first to size up their captors, the first to ask with suspicion in her voice, “What else did Inge F. Yancey tell you to do?”
They ended up locked in the prop room, with a guard posted at the door.
A few minutes later, on the other side of the theater, Kadie and Cressida and Dora were detained by a separate crew of Mr. Yancey’s mercenaries and found themselves tossed into the prop room as well.
CABIN 3
THE HERO’S QUEST
[SCENE: Onstage, with TANIA, ROBIN, and INGE F. YANCEY IV]
The first bullet struck Tania in the arm. The second hit Robin in the calf. There was no blood, but both fell to the ground, their skin turning an unnatural shade of gray. Robin rolled from side to side, clutching her leg, while Tania lay flat on her back, wailing in agony.
“One more of these would probably be the end of you,” said Inge F. Yancey IV, as he began to reload the pistol using powder, a musket ball, and a ramrod. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
It was the same face the girl with beads in her hair had seen smiling from the glossy Camp So-and-So brochure. He looked too young to be running one of the biggest companies in the world—he wasn’t even thirty. He had curly brown hair, and his face was athletic-looking and tanned. He wore an expensive-looking suit with French cuffs, and black wingtips that had been polished within an inch of their lives. His eyes were cold and carried the suggestion of a threat. They were the eyes of a man who was not accustomed to being denied anything, no matter how inconsequential.
The girl with beads in her hair came forward anyway. She climbed up onto the stage and knelt by Robin’s side, examining the gunshot wound in her leg. Robin gasped for breath, too weak to sit up or drag herself to safety. Still, she looked up at the girl with beads in her hair and shook her head, as if to warn her away from whatever course of action she was about to take.
“It was you,” said the girl with beads in her hair as she got to her feet and turned to face Inge F. Yancey IV. “All of this happened because of you.”
“It’s not what it seems, sweetheart.”
Being called “sweetheart” by Inge F. Yancey IV like she was a good little girl in pigtails made her skin crawl. She was tired of being jerked back and forth between what was real and what wasn’t. Her clothes were singed. She was almost too tired to stand, she’d barely eaten, her body ached, and she was sick of being lied to.
“Then what is it?” she asked, her voice thin and wrung out.
“Business,” Inge F. Yancey IV said. “Nothing more. Where are the rest of you?”
“I don’t know,” said the girl with beads in her hair. “What kind of business?”
“Nothing for you to trouble yourself with, sweetheart. I’d hoped not to involve any of you girls in this in the first place. In fact, you’re free to go. All of you. Go find your friends, go back to your cabins and pack your bags, and you’ll find cars waiting to take you home to your families. Go now, and I assure you, nothing will bar your way.”
With a magnanimous smile, he gestured toward the back of the theater. However, the girl with beads in her hair kept her feet planted where they were.
“What are you going to do then?”
Inge F. Yancey IV gave her a patronizing grin.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern, sweetheart.”
“Do you even know what’s happened here?” asked the girl with beads in her hair, looking around the dung- and garbage-smeared theater.
“I know that it costs me a great deal of money each year to maintain an accredited summer camp for the benefit of a handful of sniveling, selfish, demanding pests.”
These seemed like needlessly harsh words to the girl with beads in her hair until she realized they weren’t directed at her.
“I should have drowned you in Lake So-and-So when you were fifteen,” hissed Tania.
Startled, the girl with beads in her hair turned to see Tania, pale and shaking, but sitting upright. In her right hand she held a wooden hairpin, and pinched between its ends was the musket ball she’d dug out of her own arm.
“You seem to be forgetting what you get out of our arrangement, Inge—as do the lot of you,” she said, tossing the pin and ball into the audience in disgust. They parted like tall grass in a breeze where it landed.
“The ‘arrangement’ you made with my great-grandfather is long overdue for renegotiation.”
“Renegotiate?” Tania said, laughing. “I miss your great-grandfather. He was a sensible Yancey. Your grandfather was a bit dim, but still someone I could work with. Now, your father, on the other hand, was a complete turd of a man, and yet, compared to you, he seemed a scholar and a saint.”
Inge F. Yancey IV looked out into the audience and gave a slight nod. Immediately, five of Tania’s minions, including Ron, rose to their feet and ascended the stage to take their place by Yancey’s side.
“You seem to labor under the delusion that any of this is still yours to command,” said Inge F. Yancey IV. “Perhaps if you hadn’t been such a self-absorbed diva, if your incapacitated colleague here hadn’t been such a tyrant, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Ron, how long did it take me to convince you to join me? Was it over lunch?”
“Over coffee,” Ron said with an insufferable smile.
“It’s important to listen to your employees, Tania. Recognize what they bring to the organization. Let them know that their contributions are valued. Otherwise, you risk losing their loyalty,” Inge F. Yancey lectured. “I believe your associates’ talents could be better put to use at Yancey Corp., and they happen to agree with me.”
Tania started to speak, but nothing came out. Her mouth just hung open as she stared at Ron and soaked in his betrayal.
“I am here to shut down the camp, neutralize the two of you, and bring all of this untapped, underutilized talent back to New York with me.”
Then Inge F. Yancey IV turned toward the girl with beads in her hair.
“And I’m sure it’s not difficult to see how this benefits you. All of you. No more Camp So-and-So. No one will ever have to go through anything like this again. This twisted compromise my great-grandfather struck will be a thing of the past.”
The girl with beads in her hair had to entertain the notion that this might be the truth, at least for a moment. Shuttering Camp So-and-So would be unequivocally good, even if it was only the side effect of an amoral business tycoon getting his way.
This place had been Tania’s kingdom, but for most of its inhabitants, even Tania’s most favored minions, it had been a prison as well, the girl with beads in her hair realized. A posh one, but still, a small, primitive corner of the world. Inge F. Yancey IV was offering them more.
But what was he offering them, exactly? she wondered.
He’d described it in an odd way: This twisted compromise my great-grandfather struck will be a thing of the past.
Us, thought the girl with beads in her hair. We’re the compromise.
That was how it worked. She and the other campers who came to this place each year were what whetted the minions’ taste for mayhem and what kept them in line. That wasn’t to say that what Tania had done was right, but at least she’d acted as the buffer. She’d stood between the tw
o worlds and kept them apart, except for a few unfortunate campers every once in a while. Now, it was all about to be set loose, from the offices of one of the largest corporations in America, and Inge F. Yancey IV was just vain, arrogant, and stupid enough to believe he could control it.
In evil times when darkness threatens day.
One soul among you must hold it at bay.
This was what the prophecy meant. In the end, not even Robin had known this, even though she’d written it.
“I’m sorry I was so harsh before, Inge,” Tania said, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. “But you haven’t thought this all the way through. You know what we can do. We can bend reality to our whim, split souls in two, plant the memories of things that never happened, erase the memories of things that did. How long until one of your new recruits turns some of that energy against you? It’s not too late, though, Inge. You can still take it back. We can go back to the old arrangement. No hard feelings.”
Shakily, Tania extended a hand to him.
“I’d even be willing to revisit a point or two on the old contract if you like.”
Inge F. Yancey pressed his lips together. His eyes bored into Tania, radiating resentment and mistrust, but something else, too. Twelve years of it.
“I’m surprised you mentioned that summer I came to camp,” he said. “It’s never come up between us before. You weren’t wrong about my father, though. He was a turd of a man, not least of all for sending me here. His father had done the same thing to him, to make a man of him or some such rot, so off I went, too, to keep up the family tradition.”
Tania took a step closer to him and cocked her head to the side, her hand still outstretched.
“I don’t remember anything terrible happening to you. You were more or less off limits, if I recall. Your daddy even brought in that big-time author you liked so much.”