Chapter Eleven—Terror Island
It was the day of the Fish Island campout. We loaded tents, food, and sleeping bags into various boats and crossed the half-mile distance to the island. Warrior boys were assigned to row or paddle some of the younger kids over. Since all eighty of us were going, not everyone would fit in the canoes and rowboats. The camp owned four powerboats, and the counselors ferried the rest of the campers and counselors to the island in those. It took them two trips. We dropped off the girls on the east end of the island and the boys on the west end. After about an hour, everyone was on the island.
The island was a wilderness. The brush had been cut back on the east and west ends to allow canoes and rowboats to be pulled up onto the shore. Piers stretched out from both areas, where sailboats and power boats could tie up. An area on each end of the island was cleared for camping. These had picnic tables and grills for people who didn’t want to cook over campfire pits.
The only building was a large concrete bathhouse with showers and toilets. It was divided in half, with space for boys on one side and girls on the other. The counselors said the bathhouse had only been there for a few years. Before that, there were wooden outhouses. One day a girl had found a snake in the girl’s outhouse and got so upset she had an asthma attack. So the camp sponsors got rid of the outhouses and built the bathhouse to replace it.
Once everyone had arrived, the counselors met with their campers to give some instructions. Levi and Terry gathered the Warrior boys together near the picnic tables on the east end. The Tracker boys and their counselors came to listen too.
“We’ll pitch our tents first,” said Levi. “You can sleep outside if you want, but we’ll have the tents up just in case it rains. The Warriors will put up their tents in this area.” He waved an arm to the left of the clearing. “The Trackers will pitch their tents around the fire pit on the other side of the clearing.”
“Why do we have to put the stupid tents up?” asked Jake. “We’re going to sleep outside, right?”
“It’s camp policy,” said Levi. “We need them in case it rains or gets cold.”
“What do we do if there is a storm? With lightning?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what I could control anymore, and I didn’t know what effect a bad storm would have on me. If I was going to morph into a Komodo or go totally eagle, I didn’t want anyone watching.
“We check the weather forecast before we leave,” said Terry. “If storms are predicted, we cancel the trip—like last year.”
“What if a storm comes anyway, and we’re already here?” I asked. “It took three trips to get everyone to the island. It would take a long time to get everyone back to camp.”
“Then we send for the rescue boats,” said Terry.
“What are those?” asked Jim.
Levi explained. “Several lake residents have large speedboats. They’ll come and get us and take us back to camp. If we’re in a hurry, we leave the tents. We can always come back and get them.”
I met Jim’s eyes and shrugged; that sounded good enough to me. We pitched our tents in the clearing near the west end of the island. It was a grassy place in the middle of a stand of pine trees. There were two fire pits. The Trackers would put their tents near one fire pit. The Warriors would take the other.
The wind was blowing, so we dug the campfire pits a little deeper than usual so the wind wouldn’t blow hot embers into the air. We also surrounded the fire pits with rocks. Then we gathered wood for the fire. Wood was easy to find, because the entire island was covered with trees. Fallen twigs and branches were everywhere. It hadn’t rained in a while, so they were dry enough to burn well.
When it was finally time to eat supper, we were all tired and hungry. We lit the fires and roasted hotdogs. The cook had sent big bags of potato chips and cartons of beans and macaroni salad along to go with the hotdogs. We passed the food around and made sure everyone was served. Then we dug in. For a while, no one spoke except to say “yum” or “pass the mustard.” I’d worked up an appetite paddling across the lake. It took three hotdogs with ketchup and mustard to fill me up.
Sitting around the campfire, we told ghost stories and sang camp songs. After a couple of hours everyone was hungry again. We put together graham crackers and chocolate bars, and toasted marshmallows to make S’mores. At ten-thirty, Levi checked our fire pits to make sure the fires were out. It was past eleven when everyone finally stretched out on their sleeping bags. We lay on our backs, gazing up at the stars. It was quiet on the island, much quieter than it was in our cabin at night. The peaceful sound of waves lapping against the shore made me feel sleepy. The only other noise came from some very loud crickets and the gulping roar of a bullfrog that hung around at the edge of the water. Overhead, the dark dome of sky sparkled with stars all the way down to the horizon. Relaxed and tired, I began to drift into sleep.
The whistling shriek of something shooting into the sky yanked me from my sleepy daze. A skyrocket exploded overhead, blasting into splinters of color that rained down on us. Everyone sat up, muttering and confused. Another rocket whizzed over our heads, spiraling crazily through the air. Tiny bits of hot paper fluttered everywhere. One landed on my arm and burned it. I brushed it away. More rockets shot into the air, howling and bursting into colors. They landed around us, pieces still burning.
Somebody was shooting off fireworks. That was just plain stupid with this wind, especially in a wooded area. It felt like we were in a war zone, under attack. Blue smoke. Red smoke. More loud popping sounds. Screaming whistles followed by crashes and explosions that seemed to be coming from every direction. The air smelled of gunpowder, and kids were coughing, finding it hard to breathe. We were all up now, pulling on our shoes and jackets and trying to figure out what was going on.
In the distance, where the girls were camped, a golden haze was spreading along the treetops. It looked like the sun was coming up, but it was eleven o’clock at night. The peaceful quiet was destroyed by terrified cries from the other end of the island. The girls were screaming, “Fire! Help! Fire!”
Where was Austin? Scanning the area, I saw the Trackers boys’ section moving fast, just as we were. They were heading for the lake where our boats and canoes were moored. The air was filled with confused chatter and voices ringing with panic. The counselors’ phones kept ringing. Levi and Terry were talking to the other counselors on the island. Something was very wrong.
What had happened? At first it looked like fireworks. Cherry bombs. Bottle rockets. Sizzles that shot into the air and then exploded in sparkling blasts. Now it just looked like a forest fire—flames licking into the sky, lighting up the woods so we could see blackened trees falling as they burned. It was spreading fast!
“Luke!” yelled Terry. “Take the guys in your cabin and paddle two canoes back to camp. Leave the tents and sleeping bags. Keep your flashlights and lanterns on so the rescue boats can see you. Report to the director in the mess hall as soon as you get back. She’ll be waiting there to check off everyone’s name as you return.” He gave the same directions to one person from each cabin.
“What about the Trackers?” I yelled. I didn’t want to leave my brother behind.
“Their counselors will take them, and the girls’ counselors are evacuating their side of the island. Don’t worry. Just get moving!”
I told the guys to pack up fast. “Three to a canoe. Put on your lifejackets and turn on your flashlights and lanterns. We have to cross together. Where’s Jake?”
Bill shook his head. His face was pale in the dark night. He was biting his lip. “I don’t know. He left about a half hour ago. I thought he was going to the bathroom, but he never came back.”
“Come on,” I yelled, heading for the beach. “I’ll tell a counselor to call Terry. We can’t wait for him.”
Then I remembered the rowboats and canoes wouldn’t hold everyone. If we put five in the rowboats, they’d be too heavy for us to row. The powerboats had to make two trips to get everyone onto the
island. They’d have to do it again to get everyone off. I didn’t think the fire would wait for us. There had to be another plan—a faster way to get everyone to safety. Then I remembered the speedboats owned by the people who lived on the lake. They had a rescue plan for emergencies. They would be coming to help.
The Trackers were already at the shore, piling into rowboats. Their counselors were giving the same instructions I’d given. “Lifejackets on and tied. Flashlights on. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. One counselor will row each boat; Austin Brockway will row the fourth boat.”
When I heard that, a weight lifted off my chest. Austin was okay. We were going back together. But Megan was still on the island—still in the area where the red flames now licked the sky with fiery tongues. Surely the girls were getting off the island right now too.
The Trackers shoved off one at a time, with Austin’s boat in the center. The kids huddled on the seats, suddenly looking smaller and more helpless than before. Jim and I paddled with Bill between us. The other guys took the second canoe.
“Oh no,” moaned Jim. “Look at that.”
I turned to look where he was pointing. It looked as though half the island was up in flames. My mind began to spin with panic! Where were the girls? Where was Megan? There were forty-two girls over there, and four counselors. Had they started out? The Warrior girls and the counselors would row and paddle, but they had the same number of boats we had and more people. Jake was still missing too. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want him to get caught in the fire.
One of the Tracker rowboats was only a few feet from me. I yelled to the counselor to please call Terry and tell him I couldn’t find Jake Parma. He was still on the island somewhere.
The shriek of a siren pierced the air. A speedboat was coming toward us, fast. A spinning red light on its deck lit up the darkness. Now I understood why we all had to have our flashlights on. Without them, we could easily be hit. The oncoming boat swung far out and around us, but the wake still rocked us pretty hard. Other speedboats were coming too, from different directions on the lake. How would they get the fire out? There were no roads, fire engines, or fire hydrants on that island. It was strictly wilderness—and very dry. I kept paddling, trying to keep the canoe steady against the slamming waves.
“Warriors!” yelled one of the Tracker counselors. “Pull closer to us. Hold those lanterns and flashlights high!”
Jim steered, moving us closer to the Tracker boats. I could see Austin now, and knowing he was safe took away some of the panic that gripped my heart. Austin gave me a “thumbs up” signal, never missing a beat with his oars. He had enough calm for both of us. He never failed to amaze me.
I glanced back at the island and shuddered. The fire had spread even further. It had almost reached the place where we’d been camping just minutes ago. A speedboat pulled up to the pier, where a few Warriors boys and two counselors waited. They would be okay. Safe in the powerboats, they’d beat us back to camp.
Jim and I could have paddled faster, but the Tracker counselors made us stay together. It seemed to take forever to cross the lake, and by that time the emergency evacuation plan was in full swing. At least four more speedboats headed toward the island. They’d be able to pick up the rest of the campers on each end of the island, getting them all away in one trip. They wouldn’t be able to put out the fire, though. It was burning ferociously, eating everything in its path.
We pulled up next to the camp’s pier and dragged the canoes and boats up onto the shore. Two of the speedboats were already there, and two others were fast approaching the pier.
“Warrior section B,” I yelled. “Everyone go to the mess hall so they can count heads. Be sure your tags are on the white side.”
Bill joined us as we hurried up the hill. He grabbed my arm. “I need to talk to you.” The muscles of his throat moved, as though he was trying to swallow something. “I’m worried about Jake,” he said at last. “And there’s something else. It’s about those packages.”
I glared at him. “Let me guess. They didn’t contain four pairs of socks, one jacket, and a book.”
Bill winced as if I’d hit him. “No. They contained some…something else. I told him not to do it. He said it wouldn’t hurt anything. He just wanted to scare you and Austin a little. And Megan. He wanted to scare her too. He was really mad at you three for some reason.”
Bill didn’t have to tell me that. I already knew what was in those packages. I’d figured it out by the time the second rocket splintered into pieces of hot, burning paper and landed in the middle of our campsite.
“Why are you telling me this, Bill? You should be talking to Mrs. Harris. She’s right over there by the door.” I pointed at the camp director, standing in the doorway to the mess hall with a clipboard.
I checked in with Mrs. Harris and asked if we should take the boats back to pick up more kids. She said the powerboats would handle it and to tell everyone to come inside.
An ambulance raced in to the campground, lights flashing. The paramedics got out and started down the hill with a stretcher.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Jim.
Austin left his Tracker group and joined us. We watched from the top of the hill as the rest of the campers returned from Fish Island. Warrior girls landed their rowboats and canoes on the shore, unloading girl campers. Two speedboats pulled up behind them at the pier, dropping off the remaining Warrior boys and two Tracker boys’ counselors. Three more speedboats arrived. They idled their motors just outside the pier area, waiting for their turn to pull up and unload the rest of the girls and their counselors. Levi was with them. We went down with our flashlights to see if anyone needed help.
“Don’t forget to turn your tags,” I yelled, as campers paraded up the long stairway. “We have to make sure everyone is back.”
The paramedics carried the stretcher down the beach to a boat that was signaling with a light. They loaded someone onto the stretcher and started back up the hill toward us. When they passed us on the stairs, we couldn’t tell who it was because the girl’s face was covered with an oxygen mask. She didn’t have red hair, so we knew it wasn’t Megan.
Jim, Austin, and I spread out, holding our lanterns up high to light to the way for the girls who were coming up. Two counselors were helping another camper climb the stairs. She was coughing hard and made little squeaking sounds when she tried to breathe. Paramedics met them on the stairs with another stretcher. They helped the girl onto it and carried her the rest of the way.
Some of the kids could barely climb the long stairway. They moved slowly, coughing, shaking, and pulling on the guard rails to help themselves along. Their arms and clothes were covered with soot, and they seemed exhausted. The counselors stayed at the bottom of the stairs, checking to make sure each camper was okay. Finally all of the campers were out of the boats and on their way up the hill. The counselors followed.
Jim, Austin, and I waited on the landing until everyone had passed us. Two tags were still on the red side; one Warrior boy, and one Tracker girl.
“Did you see Megan come back yet?” asked Austin, his voice unusually tense. “I think all the boats are back and she wasn’t with them.”
“No. I didn’t see Jake, either.” I narrowed my eyes, squinting until my eyesight reached eagle vision. Scanning the water, I watched for movement. There was no sign of another boat. No movement in the water either. On the island the fire was still burning, flames licking the sky.
“I’m going over,” I said. “They’re on that island somewhere. They might need help.”
Chapter Twelve—Rescue
“One of the counselors should go,” said Jim. “I’ll go get one of them.”
I clamped my hand on his arm. “Don’t. They won’t understand. Get a boat and be ready to pick us up in a few minutes. We’ll meet you out in the lake. Don’t come near the shore. You might get hit with burning embers.”
New feathers pricked the underside of my arms. I could feel them gr
owing. They were long, soft feathers that would help me rise with the updraft. My heartbeat quickened, thudding against my ribcage. Everything in my being wanted to fly—wanted to get to the island as soon as I could. I closed my eyes and let it happen. Feathers rippled along my back and chest. I kicked off my shoes and gripped the ground with talons.
A surge of air flowed beneath me, lifting me off the pier. I stretched my wings out and felt the flow of air pushing me upwards. I was soaring, circling the pier. Austin waved and gave me a “thumbs up” gesture.
Below me, Austin was grabbing life jackets. Jim backed a powerboat out into the water. I had no idea who owned the boat. We were going to be in big trouble, but we had to save Megan and Jake. There was no time to waste asking permission and explaining. Especially explaining.
Flying at seventy miles an hour, I reached the island in under a minute. I barely had time to get up into the air and then down again. Huge gray clouds of smoke filled my eyes and nostrils so it was hard to breathe. I dove closer to the ground and found fresher air, but there was no sign of Megan or Jake.
They would try to get away from the fire, to get somewhere safe. The farthest part of the western section of the island—where the boys had camped—was still untouched. Rivers of flame crept closer, but I could still see open space. I flew low, scanning the unburnt area. No sign of Megan or Jake anywhere. Letting the heat collect under my wings, I rose higher into the air and headed toward the edge of the flames where the concrete bathhouse stood.
One side of the bathhouse was charred. Fire hadn’t reached the other side.
“Megan! Jake!” I called their names as loudly as I could. No one answered. Maybe they couldn’t hear me over the crackling roar of the fire. Or maybe they weren’t in the bathhouse.
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