Clone Camp!

by B. A. Frade

  Ethan’s obsession with nature turned out to be helpful, especially when combined with Noah’s vast knowledge. Wearing the gloves he’d brought, Noah collected the poison ivy leaves while Ethan collected something he called “Helenium autumnale.”

  “What’s that?” Becky asked.

  Ethan translated to non-sciencespeak: “Sneezeweed.” And explained, “In the olden days, some people thought that sneezing would get rid of bad spirits that had invaded the body. Doctors would create a powder from sneezeweed as a way to sneeze out the evil.”

  “Yes! That sounds perfect,” I said.

  I had this idea to change the story, and we needed to do it from inside the story itself. I had one chance to get it right. If this didn’t work, the Scaremaster would win, and by morning, we’d all be his servants.

  I explained my plan. “Remember how you all turned my head away from the screen to get me out of the reprogramming movie? If I couldn’t see the movie, I wasn’t trapped by it anymore.”

  “I see what you are saying,” Becky said. “But couldn’t the same result be achieved by a reconnaissance operation to cut electricity?” It was a good point.

  “I don’t know where the power supply is, do you? And we can’t get close enough to the projector to unplug it—unless we want to be zombified.”

  Becky agreed. This was our only chance.

  I opened the journal to the Scaremaster’s story.

  “When Noah and I were here last, I noticed that the book seemed to pull away from poison ivy, as if it was scared. I’m hoping I found a weakness. So let’s try this: Put on gloves, then everywhere you see the word ‘soldier,’” I told Noah, “rub sneezeweed on the words.”

  “Are the soldiers the campers?” he asked me.

  “If I’m right, then yes,” I said, fingers crossed that I had this figured out.

  “Ethan, where it says ‘prisoner,’ that stands for our real counselors. Smear the page with poison ivy.”

  I watched them work their gloved hands down the page.

  These naive children are about to learn a very big lesson:

  The general issues commands.

  The captains obey the general and lead the soldiers.

  The soldiers make books for the captains.

  The captains give the books to the general.

  Every day the general recruits new captains and new soldiers.

  These soldiers will make more books.

  The prisoners do not know what is happening.

  More and more books will be made every day.

  And when the books are done, the general will have the largest army in the world.

  As for Noah, Kaitlin, Becky, and Ethan, their fate is grim. They are the enemies. When the sun sets, all enemies will be doomed.

  “What about the ‘captains’?” Becky asked me. “I’m pretty sure those refer to the counselor clones. How are we going to stop them?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that—yet. I didn’t know where to find the counselor clones, but if this worked, we had a room of real counselors too itchy to watch a movie, and campers who couldn’t see the screen because they were busy sneezing.

  And that meant, if I was right, everyone would be normal again. And if we could convince them the clones were evil, we’d have an army of our own! A Redwood Vines army that could defeat the Scaremaster and his wicked clones.

  It was time to gather our troops.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sun slid down behind the horizon, and darkness settled at camp.

  At Becky’s call—“Company march!”—we ran. Straight through the woods, back to the path, and into the center of camp.

  As we went, my biggest worry was that we had no Plan B.

  The Scaremaster could still win. We’d be captured and reprogrammed from campers into Scaremaster bookmakers. My parents would worry when they didn’t get my daily letter, but I bet the Scaremaster had a plan for that too. Fake letters, maybe.

  At the end of the summer, he’d probably let us go because his journals would be everywhere, all over the world, and he could write stories whenever he wanted. It was going to be a total Scaremaster takeover! This was scarier than any scary movie I’d ever seen. But worse, because it was really happening.

  My heart was pounding in my head as we reached camp. I kept my fingers crossed and repeated, “Let it work.…” over and over so many times that anyone listening would have thought I was stuck in a loop.

  And then, as we rounded the flagpole, heading into the center of camp, I knew I didn’t have to worry. My heart settled, and an excitement built as we rushed to the SRC. First I heard the sneezing. It was like someone released cats into a room of kids with allergies. Achoos echoed from inside the building.

  Sneezing campers began streaming out of the building, not in an orderly flow, but looking like a concert just ended. Kids rushed through the main door, all jumbled up in a massive crowd.

  Noah thought it was hysterical, the way everyone was sneezing and bumping into each other as they walked. Plus, they were talking as if bricks were tied to their tongues.

  “Wood work,” he said to me, imitating the others. Punctuating it with a fake “Achoo.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, knowing he was goofing around. “It was good work!”

  Noah raised the Scaremaster’s journal and stopped pretending he had a thick head and a heavy tongue. “I know he intended this to be terrifying, as he built an army of clones, but instead, the Scaremaster created human bumper cars.” At that, two girls from my cabin knocked into each other on unsteady feet. They both fell gently to the ground in a tangled heap of arms and legs. “I wish I’d been the one to think of smearing sneezeweed in the book. This is the funniest prank, and it wasn’t even mine.” Noah bowed to me. “You really are royalty, Your Highness. From now on, you are officially the queen of pranks.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be a prank,” I told him.

  “Ah, but it still counts.” Noah laughed as the CIT we’d left behind bumped into a tree. Leaves rained down on his head.

  “Luckily, the effects from the movie wear off fast,” I said. “Well, pretty fast,” I corrected myself, remembering how some symptoms lingered. I honestly had no idea how long the sneezing would go on.

  “I’ll enjoy it while it lasts,” Noah said. Already some kids were starting to come out of the trance.

  Knowing that there’d be a few campers who, like me, were in it so deep that they’d try to go back inside for the end of the film, Becky and Ethan patrolled the SRC and the area outside, while Noah and I pulled every electrical cord we could find. Just for added safety.

  “Operation Save Camp Clone, Phase One is a success,” Becky told Noah and me. “Commence Phase Two.”

  It was time to check out what had happened with our counselors.

  Noah and I dashed from the SRC to the staff lounge. The counselors weren’t outside. I peeked through the window, anxious about what I’d find. The counselors were inside, scratching their own backs or other counselors’ backs. On the other side of the room, I could clearly see Director Dave rubbing his arms.

  “We did it!” I told Noah. “No one is watching TV. They’re all too busy scratching! That means, no one’s in a trance anymore.”

  We gave each other a fist bump, then went to open the door.

  “How long will the itching last?” I figured Noah would know. When he didn’t answer me right away, I turned to see that he wasn’t facing me—he was staring out at the mob that was headed our way.

  It was the clones! The first ones I saw were the fake Samantha and Sydney, followed by evil imitations of Jayesh and Michael—they all had the same blank look on their faces. They were staring straight ahead, looking at us, but not really seeing us. It was like whatever went into their brains didn’t compute. I thought about the times the twins laughed and the chaos they made in the dining hall. The clones were definitely being controlled by the Scaremaster.

  The clone versions of our counselors str
eamed toward us from the direction of the art shed, followed by the administrators, the nurse, and that cute couple who did maintenance. Only they weren’t so cute now. They were super scary with their messy hair and blank expressions.

  But now the Scaremaster’s story had been changed. So the Scaremaster responded.

  Director Dave pushed his way through the others to lead the pack. He had a similar vacant expression, but there I could sense the anger behind those dark, empty eyes.

  “The Scaremaster must be leading them,” I said. “And they’re after us!”

  The cloned counselors fanned out to surround us. I looked left and right; there was no escape. And if we went into the lounge, we’d be trapped inside. There was no rear door.

  “Noah!” I said. “What should we do?” The investigator in me, always looking for details, noticed that the clones’ eyes weren’t looking at me or Noah; instead, they were fastened on Tales from the Scaremaster in Noah’s hands. “I think they want the book!”

  Noah was frozen.

  Had the Scaremaster somehow taken over Noah without a movie or TV? I didn’t know what was happening, but the more I shook his shoulder, the stiffer he became. “Noah, this isn’t the time for a joke!”

  The counselor clones were getting closer. We’d had this plan for the campers and real counselors to be our army against the clones, but now I could see that the campers were still too zoned out and the counselors too itchy. We seriously needed a Plan B. Why didn’t we have a Plan B?

  “Help!” Noah shouted toward Becky and Ethan. I could see them over by the SRC, still dealing with the sneezing campers. By the time they got to us, it would be done. The Scaremaster would win. He’d have his clone army here and his soldiers making books for other camps! I had to stop him, but how?

  I looked at Noah, the fear on his face was real as he stared out at the clones, holding the book tight against his chest. “What do we do, Kaitlin?” he asked. Noah, it seemed, was finally out of ideas.

  Noah had saved me so many times during the weekend; it was my turn. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I grabbed the Scaremaster’s book out of his hands.

  If the clones wanted the journal, then let them come after me to get it!

  Feeling pretty confident that the clones would leave Noah and follow me, I held the book tight to my chest and took off. Becky would have been proud as I ran straight into the enemy’s front line.

  I ducked and dodged anyone who tried to slow me down.

  I imagined that the hands that grabbed for the book were tennis balls, and with the book as my racquet, I swung at them, knocking them away.

  As I expected, the mob came after me. This was all about the Scaremaster. He needed the clones to get the book and put his story back on track.

  I ran, full speed, back to the clearing. I felt sure the Scaremaster was now regretting writing such slow clones. Too bad for him. This was my story now.

  I got to the clearing before the others and found the poison berries that Noah had pointed out to me. That guy really knew his plants!

  As I opened the book, I could see the clones getting near. I had a moment of doubt over whether I could do this in time. Could I save the camp and get rid of the clones forever? All my fears faded away when I heard the voices of my platoon. It seemed that Becky, Ethan, and Noah had arrived. They’d come to help! I was happy to have them there.

  Ethan tossed a clean glove to me and called out, “Good choice: Actaea pachypoda! The little white berries have a black—”

  “Call them the common name, doll’s eyes, you hugnut!” Then Noah shouted to me, “Queen of Pranks, prank the Scaremaster!”

  The boys were interrupted by Becky: “Stand strong, soldier!”

  Turned out I did have a Plan B after all. With my friends nearby, cheering me on, I smashed several of those poison berries between my gloved fingers, careful not to drip juice anywhere on the page except exactly where I wanted it.

  Noah had said that the berries would bring “a fate worse than slipping on Jell-O.” That’s what I needed. Something way worse than death by Jell-O. Very cautiously, I smeared doll’s eye juice across everywhere in the story it said: captains.

  The captains obey the general and lead the soldiers.

  The soldiers make books for the captains.

  The captains give the books to the general.

  Every day the general recruits new captains and new soldiers.

  I didn’t really think a little berry juice would shut down the Scaremaster’s stories forever, but I had some extra juice, so I made a quick swipe over the word “general” in five places.

  The general issues commands.

  The captains obey the general and lead the soldiers.

  The captains give the books to the general.

  Every day the general recruits new captains and new soldiers.

  And when the books are done, the general will have the largest army in the world.

  The effect on the clones was immediate. They disappeared. Just like that. One minute they were after me, and the next they were gone.

  I checked the book. The Scaremaster’s entire story had vanished! There were no more words on the page, just a few stains where I’d swiped the berry juice.

  Becky, Noah, and Ethan rushed to me, and we hugged. It was the best hug ever. We were bonded together, celebrating what we’d done. When we broke apart, we danced around a little and high-fived each other, careful, of course, not to fall into any poisonous plants.

  I laughed and announced, “I’m a happy hugnut now!” And we hugged a little more.

  We were heroes.

  The Scaremaster’s story had come to an end.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday morning, I met Noah outside the dining hall.

  “I can’t believe we have KP!” I exclaimed. “After everything we did…”

  “No one remembers what happened,” Noah said with a small laugh. “Crazy, right? It’s like the whole weekend was a dream.”

  “It’s not so crazy. Remember when you told me that two hours had passed in that movie? I thought it was twenty minutes.” I tucked my hair under my Camp Redwood Vines hat.

  Noah started to say something, but just then, Director Dave arrived. Becky and Ethan were with him.

  “Seems that a weekend of KP wasn’t enough,” he said, his bald head glistening in the early morning sun. “I think a whole week will bring you around to shape this ship.”

  Becky raised her hand as if we were in school, and without being called on she said, “It’s shipshape, sir. It’s a naval term meaning neat and in line.”

  He shook his head to clear it. “Oh, right. Shipshape.” He tapped his forehead. “That’s what I meant.”

  Noah and I locked eyes. Some people, it seemed, were still fuzzy-headed from the Scaremaster’s brain takeover.

  The director went on. “I don’t know what you were thinking.” He focused on Noah. “After everything your parents did to get you a spot here this summer…”

  Whoa! In a flash I realized what the S in the SRC stood for—it was the Silvetti Recreation Center! Noah’s parents had made a huge donation to get Noah into camp!

  Noah saw my face light with the realization and gave me a subtle nod. I nodded back. His secret was safe with me.

  Director Dave scratched at a red rash on his arm. “As if throwing itching powder in the staff lounge wasn’t bad enough, you gave sneezing powder to all the campers!” Director Dave was angry. “This prank stuff is going too far, Noah. I don’t know how you convinced the others to be involved.”

  “He didn’t have to convince us to do anything,” I cut in. “We were in it together because we’re his friends.” I reached out and put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. If he was in trouble, I was going to be in trouble with him—even if it meant that we’d both be looking for a new camp next year.

  Ethan and Becky came and linked arms with me and Noah in a friendship chain.

  “The platoon will not be divided,
” Becky said.

  We all cheered.

  Director Dave shook his head again. I couldn’t tell if he wasn’t thinking clearly or thought we’d all gone batty. “Whatever.” He pointed to the kitchen door. “Spike is waiting. Get to work.” He turned and walked away toward his office.

  I dropped arms with my new friends and started to go into the kitchen.

  “Hang on,” Noah said, stopping me first, then the others. “We’re already in trouble, so it won’t matter if we’re late.” After checking that Director Dave was out of sight, he took a few steps away from the dining hall. “We have to get rid of the Scaremaster’s book. I know just the place.”

  “The tree?” I asked. We’d get in trouble for sure, but we all knew this was more important than slicing apples or whatever Spike had planned for the morning.

  “I have a better idea,” Noah said. He led the way, stopping behind the dumpster, to where he’d stashed a shovel. “I borrowed it from the maintenance shed. No one even noticed I was there. The staff was busy sorting boxes of paper and leather covers.”

  “The Scaremaster’s factory supplies,” I said. It was just like we’d thought.

  “They think that it was a shipping mistake.” Noah chuckled. “I cannot believe no one remembers anything!”

  When we got to the old cemetery, Ethan took the shovel. He surveyed the area, which had been mowed by Noah’s cabin and the fourth graders to make room for the Scaremaster’s factory. After performing several soil tests, he declared, “The ground is soft enough to dig a really deep hole.”

  “My parents are going to want to swap kids with his parents,” Noah said to me and Becky. “They’ll take Ethan, and I’ll live wherever he’s from.”