Camp Alien

by Pamela F. Service

  “Oh, that,” I said, looking around desperately, stalling for time. Several alien devices were scattered around the tent. I grabbed one randomly. Probably just a Gnairt can opener, but it did look pretty impressive. “That’s just my laser holographic projection. I create it with this gizmo. I wanted to scare away the thieves so we could grab the rocks. But I guess you ran into the image first and instead scared them for us.”

  Opal looked at me, obviously impressed. So was I.

  I shouldered one of the sacks and thrust the other at Scott. “Let’s split before they come back.”

  The four of us scrambled up the ravine. I stayed in the lead, keeping an eye on the trees ahead of us and the just-visible flicking of Vraj’s tail. Eventually it led us to a different path, one that ran around the lake toward camp.

  We walked for a while without saying anything. Then Melanie’s voice broke the silence. “Sorry we didn’t believe you, Opal.”

  “That’s OK,” the pudgy little girl replied. She was swinging along with a more confident step, and I could almost feel her radiating happiness.

  “That sure is a cool projection thing you have,” Scott said. “It convinced us all right.” He laughed sheepishly.

  With my free hand, I patted the little can opener or whatever it was that I’d stuck in my belt. “My dad’s a scientist. He thought I’d have fun with this thing at camp.”

  “Hey, Zack,” Opal said. “Where are we going to hide these things so the bad guys don’t steal them again?”

  I frowned. “The camp buildings aren’t safe, it seems. What we need is to dig a big hole and bury them until … until they’re taken away. But we don’t have the time or the shovels.”

  “Hey, I know,” Scott said, “if you don’t mind a suggestion.”

  I almost liked Scott now that he was deflated a little. “Out with it.”

  “We Sports Sprites had a water sports fest and Hawaiian luau yesterday. We dug a big hole up by the fire circle for roasting yams. It’s not filled in yet.”

  “Then that’s where we’re headed,” I said, veering to the right.

  It wasn’t long before we reached the fire circle, dumped the sacks into the luau pit, and filled it in from the pile of loose dirt. Then we sat on the fire circle logs, tired and dirty, but not yet ready to go back to our cabins.

  And now we had an added complication. These two new recruits, though they knew less of the truth than Opal, could still mess things up. I’d caught a glimpse of Vraj hiding behind a bush, and I knew she’d be fretting about a security leak.

  I cleared my throat. “Scott and Melanie, I’m sorry you got scared and all, but could I ask a favor? Could you keep quiet about this?”

  “Sure thing,” Scott said. He probably didn’t want people to know that Mr. Big-Man-about-Camp had been scared witless.

  “I won’t tell either,” Melanie said, then switched to a wheedling voice. “But could I ask a favor back?”

  “What?” I asked cautiously.

  “Well, we Arts Angels are supposed to come up with individual projects, poetry or painting or something. I should do something theatrical of course, since that’s my art, but I can’t think of a thing. If I … if we put together a show using that laser projector, it would be a real hit.”

  “Yeah,” Opal said excitedly, then clapped a hand over her mouth, probably just realizing there was no laser projector.

  Scott jumped in. “Right, and if we offer parts to the others in our cabins, they’ll keep quiet about our being out tonight. We’ll say we were practicing.”

  “Yeah, but … ” Opal began.

  I waved her down. “Let me think a minute.” The idea was crazy, but it sounded like fun. And now that my mission was wrapped up, I could use some fun.

  I stood up. “OK, we could do a play about the Greek myth Andromeda. Opal knows that stuff so she can write it. Melanie could be the star, of course, since it’s her project, but we’d all have parts. We’ll use that projector for the sea monster, Draco.”

  Opal giggled, the others applauded, and I sat back, hoping Vraj had overheard. She’d said it would take a while for the Patrol to come pick up the eggs, so she’d have the time. She might even enjoy this, and anyway, she owed these kids something for their help.

  Everything, at last, seemed to be winding up nicely.

  When, I wonder, am I going to learn?

  Vraj definitely did not like the idea.

  The next night I met with her at our regular spot, the hill of the lone pine. “You expect me to take part in stupid, childish native games?” she spluttered as moonlight glinted dangerously off her teeth.

  “Lighten up,” I said, averting my eyes from those teeth. “Your job here’s nearly done.”

  “One egg’s still missing,” Vraj snapped as she paced around the tree.

  Annoyed, I sat down on a fallen log. “Then look for it. Or maybe somebody miscounted. Anyway, the eggs are safe from hatching now, tucked away from light in that pit. You’ve got to wait around for the ship so you might as well have some fun.”

  “This will not be fun.”

  I shrugged. “OK, then it’s duty. Planned or not, you’ve involved a lot of native kids in completing this mission. Opal has been a help, and it was Scott and Melanie who scared the Gnairt from their tent. And remember all those kids who collected your eggs? They deserve some payback. If you take the part of a laser-projected Draco, some of the kids will have fun doing the play and others will have fun watching it.”

  “As a member of the Galactic Patrol Corps, it’s beneath my dignity to … ”

  “Bah. You’re a Cadet. And is dignity more important than honor? Aren’t you honor bound to help those who have helped you?”

  Her grumbling wasn’t translated, but finally she snarled, “All right, what do I do?”

  “We have permission to rehearse during rest periods starting tomorrow. If you sneak down to the fire circle and watch, you’ll see what’s expected of Draco. It’s easy. All you have to do is stalk up to Andromeda, look fierce, and threaten to eat her.”

  She grumbled again.

  “Come on, I can’t believe your species doesn’t have plays.”

  “Of course we do! We have highly developed art forms. But this is … ”

  “This is your chance to be a star. Most members of the Galactic Patrol Corps never get a chance like this. And here you’ve lucked out on your first assignment.”

  She scowled but didn’t contradict me. So I’d been right all along. This was her first assignment. She probably wasn’t much older than me.

  She kept grumbling like a small green volcano, but finally accepted the role.

  For a couple of days, the play consumed the energies of two cabins, Opal’s and mine. Bessy and Jessy were thrilled to be acting with a real, experienced actress, the Hollywood-bound Melanie. Following Scott’s lead, even Ramon and Carlos got into it. Rehearsals were a bit ragged because not everyone had learned their lines, but Melanie flounced around like a temperamental director, shaming them into it. Occasionally I saw a flicker in the bushes. Our surprise cast member.

  The campfire area on a bluff overlooking Lake Takhamasak made a good stage. Log seating sloped up from the flat clearing next to the fire circle. The luau pit had been in part of that clearing so some of the dirt was soft. However, most of the stage area was hard packed and perfect for acting. Bushes screened the area behind our stage.

  On the night of our performance, everyone in the cast was almost too nervous to eat. I’d met with Vraj the night before, giving her special instructions. She still scorned the whole idea, but I thought her reptilian glare seemed less fierce than usual. A hint of excitement trying to break through?

  The cast and the other performers at the night’s campfire were excused early from the dining hall. We rushed back to our cabins to put on costumes and then headed down to the fire circle. I stuck my Gnairt gizmo in the pocket of the old bathrobe I was wearing as my king costume. I had to make sure that everyone would
think Vraj was a laser projection.

  Nervously we checked the props: the thrones for the king and queen, the cardboard rock to tie Andromeda to, the yardstick swords, and of course, the Gorgon’s head. Jessy and Bessy had built it from papier-mâché with rubber snakes stuck into it so they wriggled and bobbed.

  As the first campers trooped toward the fire circle, we hid behind the bushes. On the excuse of checking my equipment, I slipped into another clump of bushes where Vraj was hiding.

  “Nervous?” I whispered.

  “Of course not!” Her voice seemed higher than usual.

  “All great actors get nervous, you know. This could start a grand career for you.”

  She snorted. “I am going to be … I am in the Galactic Patrol.”

  “Well, everyone needs a hobby. Besides, if you have talent, it’d be wrong to deprive the universe of it.”

  “You really think I could have talent?”

  “Sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead. Eh … that’s just an expression.”

  She grinned, showing more teeth than any Hollywood star. “Right.”

  I joined the other cast members crouching and waiting. Once all the campers and counselors were seated, the campfire was lit, and everyone sang the Camp Takhamasak song. Then three girls sang songs by their favorite rock group. They did not have a future in music. Next came a boy who juggled pinecones and tin cups. Judging by audience sounds, he only dropped things twice.

  Then it was us. My stomach tightened. Opal looked like she was going to be sick.

  “You’ll do fine,” I whispered. “If actors don’t get stage fright, the show wouldn’t have any zip.” At the moment, it looked like Opal wanted to zip right out of there. I kept a grip on her arm and whistled for Ramon and Carlos to make their entrances.

  Dressed as soldiers, they stepped from the bushes. Their armor was cheesy-looking aluminum foil stuff, but their stick and cardboard spears looked OK. Scott, crouching beside me, beat dramatically on a drum. Several kids in the audience jeered at the soldiers, but counselors hushed them.

  I practically had to push Opal out onto the stage. She began her speech about constellations in a really tiny voice. Someone in the audience yelled, “louder!” That must have made her mad because she started belting out her lines. Scott banged his drum again. Opal scurried back and threw on her wig and dress. Then she and I strode out as King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia.

  We sat on our thrones, and, to more drum banging, Melanie, in the role of Andromeda, skipped out wearing a floaty nightgown thing. She was accompanied by Bessy and Jessy, playing servants. For no reason I can figure out, those two launched into a cheerleader routine, waving pine branches and flipping up their little skirts. Through this ridiculous routine, Opal and I gushed about how beautiful our daughter was. I could have gagged. Melanie must have helped write those lines.

  Finally Opal rose and yelled, “Andromeda is even more beautiful than the sea nymphs, Neptune’s daughters!”

  That’s when Scott, behind the bushes, bashed the garbage can to sound like thunder. The last thwack was so hard I heard the can topple and bounce noisily down the hill. Scott couldn’t stop it because he was busy making his entrance. He was the god Neptune, in a green sheet with shredded bits of garbage bag trailing off him to look like seaweed.

  It was a grand entrance, except that he stepped on his costume and fell on his face. Scott pulled himself to his knees. His face turned from dust-powdered pale to blush red as laughter from the audience rose in a wave. He jumped up, waving his pitchfork menacingly and shouted, “Whoever laughs at the great god shall feel his wrath after the show!”

  The audience quieted. For a moment, Scott’s face blanked as he fumbled for his real lines. I breathed again when he finally turned to us and thundered, “Whoever compares the beauty of a mere mortal to my daughters shall feel the wrath of the great god Neptune!”

  That was our cue to scream and wail and fall on our knees, begging forgiveness. Bessy and Jessy flailed frantically, and not to be outdone, Melanie threw herself on the ground and flopped about like a dying fish.

  Then came a bunch of talk where nobody quite got their lines right, but in the end Neptune agreed he would not send his sea monster, Draco, to destroy the town, if we tied Andromeda to a rock for Draco to eat instead. More screaming and wailing, then everyone ran into the bushes.

  The audience cheered and clapped and started to leave until Scott ran out waving his pitchfork and yelling, “Sit down! There’s more coming!” When some kids groaned, he added, “Shut up! We’ve got special effects!”

  Once they settled down, Andromeda entered slowly followed by the soldiers prodding her with spears. Then came the two wailing servants and the king and queen. Opal and I were dressed in black garbage bags that were supposed to make us look like we were in mourning. I think they made us look like walking garbage bags.

  Andromeda was tied to the cardboard rock. More screaming and wailing, and the two servants did a sad little dance. Very sad, if you ask me. Then we all trooped off except Melanie, who stayed tied to her rock, trying to look scared and beautiful.

  Meanwhile, Scott, crouching behind the bushes, had torn off his Neptune costume and put on aluminum foil armor and a colander helmet to play the part of Perseus. Ramon and Carlos struggled into their Pegasus costume. (They’d agreed to play the flying horse only if they could be soldiers at the beginning.) Ramon had lost the coin flip and gotten stuck with the role of the horse’s butt. Carlos walked upright, holding the cardboard horse head. Ramon trudged along, bent over with a yarn tail pinned to his rear, while he flapped the cardboard Pegasus wings. Scott walked between them, “riding” Pegasus and trying to look heroic.

  Pretending to not see Melanie, they staggered on stage to hoots of laughter. Scott fumbled through his speech about how he, Perseus, was just coming back from killing the Gorgon, whose glance turned people to stone. “Sounds like our counselors,” some kid yelled. Then Scott got good squeals when he wiggled the snake-covered head at the audience.

  Now came the special effects. Opal had crawled out of the bushes and thrown a bunch of pine needles and sand on the fire to make sparks and to lower the light. Backstage I was making a big deal of waving my gizmo and pretending to press buttons. Then from behind the bushes, we all started moaning, “Oooo, Draco the Sea Monster! Here comes the terrible monster! Andromeda is doomed! Doomed!”

  On cue, Vraj burst out of the bushes. I’ve got to admit, she looked plenty scary. And mad too. I hoped she was just acting. She looked mad enough to eat somebody for making her do this.

  The effect, though, was great! People screamed and cried and cheered. Vraj must have liked that. She made the most of it by running up and down aisles, flailing her claws, and snapping her teeth. Then she bounded back onstage and stalked toward Andromeda. Melanie’s screams were very realistic. For a second I even thought she might run off, bouncing her cardboard rock behind her.

  Vraj was making frightful snarls when Scott snapped out of his shock and urged his stumbling Pegasus forward. Pretending to jump off, he pulled out his yardstick sword and waved it timidly at Draco.

  Vraj ignored him and kept gloating over miserable Melanie. Scott lunged forward, wiggling the sword in Vraj’s face.

  Explosively, Vraj spun around, yanked the sword away from Scott, held it in her front claws, and broke it in two. Watching through the bushes, I was impressed. I’d just told Vraj to do what fit the part. She was a natural.

  Perseus yelped and jumped back. It was probably not the reaction he’d expected from a “projection.” I’d have to think of some way to explain that later. Draco followed, claws outstretched, jaws gaping. Turning with a convincing scream, Perseus ran into the audience. Then he seemed to remember that this was a play and unhooked the dangling Gorgon head from his belt. Slowly he walked towards Draco, who was back slathering over Andromeda.

  The audience was yelling, laughing, and screaming with delight. But I was worried. I wasn’t sure if Vraj underst
ood about the Gorgon’s head. We hadn’t rehearsed that part since most of the cast thought it would just be a projection. Timidly, Perseus stepped forward and wiggled the head at Draco. Nothing happened, though I caught a questioning look in the alien’s eye.

  “It turns things to stone,” I whispered loudly under the audience’s screaming. “You turn to stone and die!”

  With a sharp nod, Draco turned and stared directly into Medusa’s ugly papier mâché face. Then she squealed like a fire siren and began leaping about like she was being attacked by bees. She flailed to the back of the stage and with one final shriek, fell like a stone into the bushes and rolled out of sight.

  For a moment, we were all stunned. Then I remembered I was the king. Singing happy praises for Perseus, I strode from the bushes with the others trailing me. Perseus untied Andromeda, they hugged briefly, and we all danced around the fire circle.

  That was supposed to be the end of the show.

  We had circled the fire for the third time when I felt the soft earth move under my feet. It buckled and heaved like an earthquake in mush.

  Suddenly the ground quaked, toppling me and the others to the ground. The soil, where we lay, churned with orange arms that broke free and began spiraling into the air. All around us, there were dozens of orange starfish-things the size of saucers. They swarmed into the air and swirled about like moths around a light. Then the swarm changed direction, and they sailed off into the night. The cloud of orange stars glided over the lake and disappeared beyond the trees.

  After awed silence, the camp exploded with cheers. What special effects! A Greek myth turned into stars—right before our eyes! Kids happily slapped me on the back. I just stood in stunned horror.

  The Duthwi eggs. The heat of the campfire. They’d hatched! Duthwi were loose on Earth, they and their mysterious menace. I’d totally botched my mission!

  Beyond the bushes, I glimpsed a yellow-green streak—Cadet Vraj bolting down the hill and along the lakeshore. Everyone kept congratulating me.

  I’d never felt more miserable in my life.