56- The Curse of Camp Cold Lake

by R. L. Stine

I floated facedown. I kept my legs stiff and let my arms hang loosely at my sides.

  I listened for shouts of alarm.

  Someone must have spotted me by now.

  I listened for cries of help. For kids calling Liz.

  But I heard only silence. The heavy silence you hear when you’re underwater.

  I let out another bubble of air.

  My chest really hurt now. It felt about to explode.

  I opened my eyes. Was anyone nearby? Was anyone coming to rescue me?

  I saw only green.

  Where is everyone? I wondered.

  Liz must have spotted me by now. Why isn’t she pulling me up out of the water?

  I pictured her again in her white tennis shorts. I pictured her tanned arms and legs. I pictured her red hair.

  Liz—where are you?

  Liz—don’t you see me drowning here? You said you’d keep an eye on me, remember?

  I can’t stay under much longer.

  My chest is ready to explode. My whole body is tingling. Burning. My head feels about to pop open.

  Can’t anyone see me here?

  A wave of dizziness swept over me.

  I shut my eyes, but the dizziness didn’t go away.

  I pushed out the rest of the air in my lungs.

  No air, I thought. No air left….

  My arms and legs ached.

  My chest burned.

  With my eyes closed, I saw bright yellow spots.

  Dancing yellow lights. They grew brighter… brighter. They did a fast, furious dance all around me.

  Around my burning, tingling body.

  My chest… exploding… exploding…

  I’m so cold, I realized. Suddenly, I feel so cold.

  The dancing, darting yellow lights grew brighter. Bright as spotlights. Bright as flashbulbs, flashing in my eyes.

  Flashing around my still, cold body.

  I shuddered from the cold.

  Shuddered again.

  Cold, thick water filled my mouth.

  I’ve stayed under too long, I realized.

  No one is coming. No one is coming to save me.

  Too long… too long.

  I struggled to see. But the lights were too bright.

  Can’t see. Can’t see.

  I swallowed another mouthful of water.

  Can’t see. Can’t breathe.

  I can’t stay under any longer. I can’t wait any longer.

  I struggled to raise my head out of the water. But it felt so heavy. It weighed a ton.

  Can’t stay down…

  Can’t breathe.

  With a burst of strength, I moved my shoulders. Pulled them up.

  Hoisted up my head.

  So heavy… so heavy. My hair filled with water. My hair so heavy. The water running down my face.

  Over my eyes.

  I turned to shore. Squinted through the bright, darting lights.

  Squinted hard through the water running down my face.

  Squinted…

  No one there.

  I turned again. My eyes searched the water.

  No one there. No one swimming. No one on the shore.

  Where is everyone? I wondered. Shivering. Shuddering.

  Where did everyone go?

  15

  I struggled to shore.

  My feet were numb. I couldn’t feel the muddy bottom as I staggered out of the water.

  I rubbed my arms. I couldn’t feel the touch of my hands. Couldn’t feel the water pouring off me, running down my back.

  Couldn’t feel anything. Numb. Numb all over.

  “Where is everyone?” I called.

  But did I make a sound? Did I have a voice?

  I couldn’t hear myself.

  I stepped onto the grass and shook myself. Like a dog trying to get dry.

  Trying to shake some feeling into my cold, numb body.

  “Where did you all go?”

  Hugging myself, I stumbled forward. I stopped when I saw the canoes. All tacked upside down by the shore and tied up.

  Weren’t kids canoeing today? Weren’t the canoes all out in the lake?

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  But why couldn’t I hear my shout?

  “Where is everyone?”

  No one on the shore.

  I spun around, nearly losing my balance. No one in the water.

  No one. No one anywhere.

  I stumbled past the life preservers and rubber rafts. Covered with a canvas tarp.

  Isn’t anyone going to use them? I wondered. Why are they covered up?

  Why did everyone leave the lake so quickly?

  Shivering, hugging myself, I made my way toward the lodge. I gasped when I noticed the trees.

  Bare. All winter bare.

  “Noooooooo!” a frightened wail escaped my throat. A silent wail.

  Could anyone hear me?

  When had the leaves fallen? Why had they fallen in the middle of summer?

  I started to trot along the path to the lodge. Cold. So cold.

  Something stung my shoulder. Something tingled my eyelids.

  Snow?

  Yes. Tiny white flakes drifted down, blown by a steady breeze. The bare trees rattled and creaked.

  I brushed snowflakes from my wet hair.

  Snow?

  But I knew that was impossible.

  All impossible.

  “Heeeeeeey!” My shout echoed through the trees. Or did it?

  Could anyone hear my frightened call?

  “Hellllllllllp!” I shouted. “Somebody hellllllp me!”

  Silence, except for the creaking tree limbs overhead.

  I started to run again. My bare feet moved silently over the cold ground.

  The cabins came into view as I made my way out of the trees. Their flat roofs were covered by a thin layer of snow.

  The ground was as gray as the sky. The cabins were all dark, the shingled walls gray. Gray all around me.

  A cold world of gray.

  I pushed open the door of the first cabin I came to. “Hey—I need help!” I cried.

  I stared into the empty room.

  No one there. No camp trunks. No clothes scattered about.

  I raised my eyes to the bunk beds against the wall. The blankets, the sheets—the mattresses—had all been taken away.

  I guess this cabin isn’t being used, I thought.

  I backed out of the door. Turned and ran down the row of cabins. All dark and silent.

  My cabin stood where the path curved up the hill. With a sigh of relief, I ran up to it and pushed open the door.

  “Briana? Meg?”

  Empty. And dark.

  The mattresses gone. The posters pulled down. No clothes. No bags or trunks.

  No sign that anyone had ever lived in here.

  “Where are you?” I shrieked.

  And then, “Where am I?”

  Where was my stuff? Where was my bed?

  Uttering another terrified wail, I lurched out of the cabin.

  Cold. So cold and numb. Running through the cold in my wet bathing suit.

  I tore through the camp. Pulling open doors. Peering into bare, empty rooms. Calling. Calling for someone—anyone—to help me.

  Into the main lodge. My cries echoing off the high, wooden rafters.

  Or did they? Was I really making a sound?

  Why couldn’t I hear myself?

  I burst into the mess hall. The long, wooden benches had been stacked on top of the tables. The kitchen stood dark and empty.

  What has happened? I wondered, unable to stop my trembling.

  Where did everyone go? Why did they all leave? How did they leave so quickly? How can it be snowing?

  I stumbled back out into the gray cold. Wisps of gray fog floated low over the gray ground. I hugged my frozen body, trying to warm myself.

  Terrified and confused, I wandered from building to building. I felt as if I were swimming again. Swimming in the thick gray mists. Swimming through endless la
yers of gray.

  And then I stopped when I heard a voice.

  A tiny voice. A girl’s voice.

  Singing.

  She was singing in a high, frail voice.

  “I’m not alone!” I cried.

  I listened to her song. A sad song sung so softly.

  And then I called out to her, “Where are you? I can’t see you! Where are you?”

  16

  I followed the tiny voice to the lodge. I saw a girl perched on the wooden steps.

  “Hey!” I called. “Hey! I was looking for someone! Can you help me?”

  She kept singing, as if she didn’t see me. As I walked closer, I realized she was singing the Camp Cold Lake song in her tiny, light voice.

  She had long curls of white-blond hair that flowed down the sides of her face. A pretty face, delicate and pale. So incredibly pale.

  She wore a sleeveless white T-shirt and white short shorts. Snowflakes fell all around us. I shivered. But she didn’t seem to notice the cold.

  She tilted her head from side to side as she sang. Her round blue eyes stared out at the sky. They reminded me of shiny blue marbles in her pale, pale face.

  I stepped up in front of her. I brushed snowflakes from my forehead.

  She didn’t turn to me until her song was finished. Then she smiled. “Hi, Sarah.” Her speaking voice was as soft as her singing.

  “How—how do you know my name?” I stammered.

  Her smile grew wider. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she replied. “My name is Della.”

  “Della—I’m so cold,” I blurted out.

  She rose to her feet. Turned. And pulled something out from behind the steps.

  A white bathrobe.

  She held it up and slipped it around my trembling shoulders.

  Her hands were so light. I could barely feel them.

  She helped me tie the belt. Then she stepped back and smiled at me again. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sarah,” she said. Her voice was a sigh, a whisper.

  “Excuse me?” I cried. “Waiting—?”

  She nodded. Her white-blond hair fluttered with every move of her head. “I can’t leave without you, Sarah. I need a buddy.”

  I stared at her, trying to understand.

  “Where is everyone?” I cried. “Where did everyone go? Why are you the only one here?” I brushed snowflakes from my eyebrows. “Della, how did it get to be winter?”

  “You’ll be my buddy—won’t you, Sarah?” Her blue eyes burned into mine. Her hair glowed around her pale face.

  I blinked. “I don’t understand—” I started. “Please answer my questions.”

  “You’ll be my buddy, won’t you?” she repeated, pleading with those amazing eyes. “I’ve waited so long for a buddy, Sarah. So long.”

  “But, Della—”

  She started to sing again.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of the robe. I shivered. I couldn’t get warm. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  Why was she singing the Camp Cold Lake song so sadly?

  Why wouldn’t she answer my questions?

  How did she know my name? And why did she say she’d been waiting for me?

  “Della, please—” I begged.

  Singing her strange, sad song, she floated up the wooden stairs to the lodge. Her hair shimmered, golden in the gray light. Swirls of fog curled around her as she moved.

  “Oh!” I cried out when I realized I could see right through her.

  “Della—?”

  She floated over the stairs, tilting her head from side to side, singing in that breathy whisper of a voice.

  “Della—?”

  She stopped singing and smiled at me again. Snowflakes covered her blond hair. The fog still swirled around her.

  I could see the dark shingles of the lodge through her body. I stared right through her.

  “Sarah, you’re my buddy now,” she whispered. “I need a buddy. Everyone at Camp Cold Lake needs a buddy.”

  “But—but you’re dead!” I blurted out.

  Della is dead, I realized.

  And I’m her buddy.

  That means…

  That means that I’m dead too!

  17

  Della floated over me. So light and pale. The wind fluttered her hair. It rose around her like a shimmering halo.

  “You’re dead,” I murmured. “And I am too.”

  Saying the words sent a cold shudder down my body.

  I began to realize the truth. I began to see what had happened.

  Della had probably drowned here. Drowned in the lake.

  That is why everyone at the camp is so crazy about water safety.

  That explains the endless water safety lectures. And the long list of rules. And why the counselors insist on the Buddy System at all times.

  Della drowned here.

  And now I’m her buddy.

  I’m her buddy—because I drowned too.

  “Noooooooooo!” A long wail of horror, of disbelief, escaped my throat.

  I threw my head back and wailed like an animal. Wailed out my sorrow.

  Della floated over me, watching me. Waiting for me to stop. She knew what I was thinking. She knew I had figured everything out.

  She waited patiently. How long had she been waiting there for me? Waiting for a buddy? Another dead buddy?

  How long had she been waiting for another unlucky girl to drown?

  “Noooo!” I moaned. “No, I won’t do it, Della! I can’t do it! I won’t be your buddy! I won’t!”

  I spun around. So dizzy, I nearly dropped to my knees.

  I started to run. The white robe flew open. It flapped beside me like wings as I ran away from her.

  Ran barefoot over the snowy ground.

  Ran through the swirls of fog. Through the gray.

  “Come back, Sarah!” I heard Della call to me. “Come back! You have to be my buddy! I’m trapped here. Trapped as a ghost. I can’t leave this camp—I can’t get to the other world—without a buddy!”

  But I didn’t stop. I kept running through the camp. Past the cabins. Past the supply sheds at the edge of the woods.

  I kept running from her calls. Running from her ghostly voice.

  I don’t want to be her buddy, I told myself. I don’t want to be a ghost!

  I blinked away snowflakes as I ran. Ran through the bare, creaking trees. Ran without looking back.

  I stopped when I reached the lake shore. Stopped when I felt the cold water lap over my feet.

  The cold, gray water.

  I struggled to catch my breath. But my chest hurt. Felt about to explode.

  Gasping, I turned—and saw Della floating through the trees. Floating toward me, her eyes glowing with blue fire.

  “You can’t leave without me, Sarah!” she called. “You can’t leave, Sarah!”

  I turned away from her. Turned back to the water.

  My chest. My head.

  Everything hurt so much.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  My chest was going to burst.

  I sank to the mud.

  As the gray faded to black.

  18

  Pinpricks of white light danced above me.

  I thought of fireflies, darting above the grass late at night.

  The tiny lights grew brighter. Round, like flashlight beams.

  Brighter still.

  Until I was staring into a glowing ball of gold.

  I blinked.

  It took me a long while to realize that I was staring up at the sun.

  I turned my head away.

  I suddenly felt heavy. I could feel the ground beneath me. I could feel the weight of my body on the ground.

  My body. My solid body, coming back to me.

  I heard a groan. Someone moved above me.

  I blinked several times. And squinted up at Liz.

  Her face was red. Her mouth was twisted in a hard scowl.

  “Ohhh.” I groaned as she pressed both hands on my chest. Raised her
hands. Pressed again.

  I felt water slide from my open mouth.

  I choked. Felt more water pour down my chin.

  “She’s coming around,” Liz announced. She pressed hard on my chest again. “She’s alive!” Liz cried.

  Behind her, I could see bare legs. Swimsuits. Campers.

  Yes. The other campers.

  I groaned again. Liz continued to work over me.

  I’m lying on my back, I realized. I’m on the lake shore. Liz is giving me CPR.

  The other campers are standing around me. Watching. Watching Liz save my life.

  “I’m—ALIVE!” The word burst from my throat.

  I sat up. And gazed around.

  Everyone is back! I realized. It’s summer again. The leaves are back on the trees. The sun is beaming down.

  And everyone is back. Including me!

  Liz uttered a sigh and sank back on her knees. “Sarah, are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. She mopped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I… I think so,” I murmured.

  I had a sour taste in my mouth. I still felt a little dizzy.

  Behind Liz, some campers cheered and applauded.

  “We thought you were gone for a moment.” Liz sighed. “You stopped breathing. What a scare!”

  Two counselors helped me to my feet. I tried to shake off my dizziness. “I’m okay!” I cried. “Thank you, Liz. You—you saved my life!”

  I hugged Liz. Then I turned and hugged Aaron.

  Briana and Meg were standing nearby. I startled them by hugging them too.

  I was so happy to be alive! So happy to be away from that gray, gray winter. Away from that frightening ghost girl in the empty camp.

  “Sarah—what happened?” Liz asked, placing a hand on my still-wet shoulder. She gently brushed back my hair.

  “I’m not sure,” I told her. “I’m really not sure.”

  Liz shuddered. “When you stopped breathing, I… I got so scared.”

  “I’m fine now,” I told her with a smile. “Thanks to you.”

  “She did it for attention,” I heard someone mutter.

  I turned—and saw Jan whispering to another girl. “Now everyone has to say ‘Poor Sarah’,” Jan whispered nastily. “Now everyone has to be nice to her.”

  I felt hurt. I opened my mouth to say something to Jan.

  But I was so happy to be back, so happy to be alive, I just ignored it.