Camp Dread

Now

I hate the water.  I have hated the water since I was a kid at Camp Glee, or as I remember this place of my childhood trauma that took place on a wooded lake retreat, Camp Dread.   

Even before my mom drove me into the Catskills, I was not a fan of the wilderness.  In the dark shadows of the dense forest, I saw indescribable creatures that stalked the campers who had come to have fun frolicking in the woods and water. 

I don’t like the water.  I really don’t.  Oh please leave me alone!

When I envision monsters, I see the gentle waves lapping the sandy shore of Lake Canby.

“Olive, come on in the water’s fine.” 

No, it’s not.  It is not fine.  It’s a trap

Then

“Olive, are you all ready?” I hear my mother’s voice echo through the house.

“Yes mon.” I answer hoping she can’t hear my eyes roll. 

“Ha!  You’re going to that camp.” Teddy, my dweeb younger brother, taunts me. “You’re gonna get eaten by a bear.  I heard there are a lot of bears at the camp.”

He smiles showing his missing front teeth.  

“Haven’t you got somewhere else to be.” I pick up my backpack stuffed with things my mother bought to keep me safe like suntan lotion.  My backpack weighs more than me. 

Now 

Teddy Womack went to Afghanistan.  He came home ten years ago.  I knew something about him was different.  Found out I was right when he put his Glock into his mouth and pulled the trigger.  My mother goes into his room every other day to try to remove the blood stains from his bedroom wall. 

“Mom, why don’t you paint the walls.” I say when I come over to visit.

“No, no, Teddy liked this color.  I can’t do that to him.” She says wiping her eyes with her sleeve as she continues her assault on a memory that just won’t come clean. Dipping her sponge into the bucket of Clorox and water, she mutters, “You never liked him.  Never.” 

I have learned not to argue anymore.  I want to ask her why she sent me to that awful camp when I was thirteen.  When I came home at the end of camp, I am quite sure I did not come home unaccompanied and I’ve been living with that ghost ever since.  

Then 

“Hi, my name is Mandy” She greeted me even before I had exited the car.

“I’m Olive.” I nodded as I hoisted the backpack over my shoulder. 

“Olive, do you want to be bunkmates?” She twisted her blonde hair in her fingers.  Mandy Hansen was as thin as a rail and wearing cutoffs did not help her skeletal build.  She also wore braces which would glitter each time she opened her oddly shaped mouth.  

“Sure.” I followed her to a cabin.

“This is my cabin.” She pointed to the front door before opening the screen door which was barely hanging onto the hinges. “I hate bugs, ya know.  I have bug spray, but I’m almost out.”

“Great.” I huffed as I put my burden on the empty mattress. “How long have you been here?” 

“Two days.” Her smile glittered even in the dim lighting. I just shook my head and rolled my eyes as she got out her bug spray.  

Now

“Olive” I sit up in bed when I hear the wind call my name.  Only it’s not the wind.  I have moved a number of times, but it follows me.  I thought poltergeists were restricted to a specific location, but apparently that is not the case.

“Olive, why don’t we do each other's hair.  I have some hair spray.” Her disembodied voice travels throughout my bedroom.  I quit drinking hoping it would end her haunting voice, but so far it has not stopped her from waking me from a peaceful slumber. I lay in bed with my eyes open, hoping she would stop. 

Then

“Alright girls, everyone in the water.” Mrs. Cartwright, one of the counselors, orders the twenty campers gathered on the shore trying not to shiver in the cool mountain breeze.  It is only nine in the morning and we are all wearing our modest one piece swimsuits except Bette who brags about going all the way with a boy.  She wears a revealing two-piece bathing suit.  

I put my foot into the water.  It is cold as hell.

“C’mon girls.  It’s not that bad.” She enters the water, submerging her entire body into the frigid water. When she reappears, she shaked off her head, “Refreshing.” 

If freezing to death is refreshing, then she is right.  I glance over at Mandy who is doing her best not to shiver, but she is no further into the water than I am.

“It’s cold, Olive.” She wraps her toothpick thin arms around her torso.

“I know.” I agree.

A whistle blows.  It’s Mrs. Cartwright.  She calls out, “You two.” Pointing at Mandy and me.  The rest of the girls have managed to get most of the way into water. “You need to get in so we can start our swimming lesson. It is important to know how to swim in the lake. It is easy to have a mishap.” 

Now

Drowning, not a mishap, Mrs. Cartwright.  The water was cold and it is easy to drown in cold water. Use the correct term, please.  When you choose to use words that do not have the proper impact, you are not protecting us, you are setting us up for a tragedy.  I remember how adults used to use words to protect the little ones from the harsh realities of life. How about cutting out the BS and saying the words that actually meant something.

I hate it.

I hate it, because…because it did not protect us after all.  

Then

I did not warm up until after lunch that day.  Mandy went back to the shore during our after lunch free time to build sand castles, but her attempts at building castles were pathetic using the rocky material provided to her.  I walked down and squatted near her.

“Hello.” She did not even look up, “How was lunch?” 

“Sucks just like breakfast.” 

“Oh Olive, don’t say that.  Breakfast was good.” 

“It was just dry Cheerios and milk.” I shook my head slowly.

“And what’s wrong with that?” 

“This whole place is a joke.” I announced.

“You’re just spoiled.” She put a stick in her tower which completely crumbled her tower. 

“That’s not it.” I sat in the moist dirt. “I just did not ask to come to Camp Dread.” 

“Neither did I, but things at home are rough.” She said as she put the tower together again, but when she put the stick on top, it crumbled again. 

“Really?” I put my arms on my knees that were folded up in front of me. 

“Yeah.  My father got a girlfriend after he left and it drives my mom crazy.” 

“Yeah, I can see how that would.” I sighed. 

“We are supposed to go boating in another hour.” She finally looked at me with her big sad blue eyes.

“Do you like doing this stuff?” I asked.

“It’s better than what goes on at home.” She squinted, “We got yelling and bad words being said.  I stay in my room, but I can still hear them yelling. I try to read, but I can’t shut them out.” She closes her eyes and after an awkward moment, she opens them, “I sometimes wish I was a princess living in a castle. At least her at Camp Glee, I get to do things a warrior princess would do.” 

So, that was it.  She was looking to escape a less than perfect home and Camp Glee was her ticket out.  

We sat in our canoes, two passengers to a canoe.  Of course, I was with Mandy as Mr. Daniels and Mrs. Cartwright sat in the counselor canoe.  Mr. Daniels reminded me of my own father.  He was wearing a boater’s hat and sunglasses.

“Alright girls, today we are going to learn how to navigate a canoe.” His voice was loud and clear, “Lake Canby can be tricky as it has a marsh on the north shore where you can get your canoe tangled up in the dense vegetation.  So you have to be careful when you reach the north shore, but until you are signed off by one of the counselors, you are not be in a canoe. It is against camp rules.”

Just like my dad who enjoyed harping on the law as he watched the news on television before dinner. 

“I hope we are able to do this right.” Mandy said as we began to paddle our canoe.  It did not seem like such a big deal once we got moving, but we both concentrated so hard on our paddle movement that when I looked up I saw we were quite a distance from the group and moving toward the north shore. From our position, I could see what Mr. Daniels was talking about.  A couple of egrets were wading in the shallow water.  When they saw us, they spread their giant wings and flew away.  

“We’d better get back.” Mandy panicked.

“Alright.” I put my paddle in the water, but with each stroke we moved farther and farther from the group.  I could hear the distant voice of Mr. Daniels yelling at us.  A cold shiver ran up my back as serpent like vines began to wrap around the bow of our canoe.  When I looked in the water, I could see the sandy brown bottom just a foot or so below our boat. 

“You two.” Mr. Daniels shouted as he paddled his canoe up to ours.  Mrs. Cartwright had abandoned the canoe to sit in one of the campers’ canoe while Mr. Daniels rescued us.  

Only it wasn’t a rescue.  Once we were standing on the shore, he was still pretty upset. He turned to both of us and put his hands on his knees so he could look us in the eye as he talked, “You both endangered this outing, do you know that?”

We both nodded.

“And because you broke the rules, you are suspended from using the canoes for the rest of camp.”  He shook his finger at us before turning on his sandaled heel and walking into the male counselors’ cabin.

“This was the only thing I liked so far.” I put my fists on my hips.

“It’s alright.  No big deal.” Mandy shrugged.

The rest of the afternoon sucked with lame crafts and planning out skits for the ceremony at the end of camp.  We had to work with the boys from the camp down the dirt road and it turned out to be a waste of time.  Mandy seemed to enjoy herself as she sat with a boy named Brian who had a large beak from which he suffered from all kinds of allergies.  

Now

As memory serves me, Mandy Hansen was more than a bit odd.  There was something more than peculiar about her.  Everyone seemed to notice, but I also knew things at home were rough for her.  Still a person has to learn how to cope.  She did not have any coping skills. 

“Olive, why don’t we play Twister?” 

Because I’m not queer, that’s why.

I pull the pillow over my head.

Her voice seems to penetrate any barriers.

One psychiatrist told me it was my guilt complex.  I never went back to see him after that. 

“Olive!” Her voice is inescapable.   

Guilt complex?  Really. You think by now I’d be over this, but it is my opinion that there are some things you just never get over.

Like my disdain for peas.  Yuck. 

No, Mandy Hansen was creepy.  There is no other word for it. 

Then

“Wake up.” I shook the sleeping bag containing Mandy Hansen.

“Whaaa.” She groaned as I continued to shake her.

“Let’s go canoeing.” I suggested.

“What time is it?” She did not open her eyes.

“I dunno.  Late, but it’s a full moon and I want to go canoeing.”  I gave her one last shake.  It worked, her eyes opened.

“Are you crazy?”

“Absolutely.” I nodded, “Let’s go.” 

“I thought you hated water.’ She mumbled.

“I do, but in a boat, you stay dry.” I explained. “C’mon.” 

“I have to get dressed.” She shook her head.

“What for? You are wearing a nightgown.” I urged.

“Yeah, but it’s cold.” 

“Mandy, we don’t have time to waste.” I grabbed her arm and nearly pulled her to her feet.

“I really don’t feel like doing this.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

No one was at the dock where the canoes were tethered.  There were two life jackets in each boat, but they were still damp.  Mandy was still mumbling her protests to the whole ordeal.  I handed her a life jacket that was damp.

“Oh, this is cold.” She shivered.

“So what?  Doncha wanna be daring?” 

“This is not daring, Olive, this is stupid.” She tried to get into the boat, but the canoe drifted away from the dock.  She whined until I helped her into the canoe. I put a life jacket on.  It was damp and cold, but the thrill of breaking the sacred rules was more enticing to me. After getting Mandy into the canoe, I managed to flop into it.  

As the rope tying the canoe to the dock was wet and damp just like the life jackets, my finger became numb as I fumbled to untie the vessel from the dock.  Afraid the noise and our giggling would wake the counselors in the cabin near the dock, I shushed Mandy several times, but not a soul stirred.  

Using my paddle, I pushed the canoe away from the dock.

The water was black in the darkness.  The full moon sparkled like shards of glass on the black water.

“It’s cold.” Mandy said as she used her paddle to propel the canoe.

“Stroke.” I whispered trying to set a cadence so we would navigate smoothly through the water. “Stroke.” 

Swoosh.  Swoosh.  Swoosh.

In a few minutes we were in the middle of Canby Lake.  A fish broke the surface of the water startling us both. 

“I guess the fish don’t sleep, do they?” Mandy asked without turning around.

“I guess not.” I chuckled. “Stroke.” 

“I want to take this cold thing off.” Mandy unstrapped her life jacket.

“Hey, don’t do that.” I told her, but she had already taken it off.

“It’s too cold to wear that thing.” 

My paddle skimmed the surface and I fell forward.  The motion of missing the stroke put me off balance.  The canoe jolted and Mandy fell to the side.  Now the canoe was lilting to one side.  Much to my horror, the water began rushing into the canoe.  Once this began there was no saving the canoe since we were novices at this.  Made of metal, as soon as the bow was filled the canoe began to sink.  The water was cold and numbing, but Mandy began to struggle to stay on the surface and without her life jacket that struggle became more difficult.

“Help me, Olive.” She held out her hand, coughing water.  I grabbed her hand, but her weight began to pull me under. Panicking, I let go and Mandy disappeared under the water.

Now

I did not mean to let go, Mandy.  She wasn’t wearing her life jacket.  The cold that numbed her was like a hand wrapped around her ankle. I was not at fault.  I was not at fault.

The next morning the police came and dredged the lake until they found your body.  They called my parents to have me removed from the camp.  Your death was considered accidental after the police questioned me for over four hours.  I cried through every minute of the interrogation. 

I have spent time in therapy since then and cannot seem to find answers to the demons that haunt me.  All that time and trouble.  I have never gone back to Camp Dread…I mean Camp Glee and Canby Lake.  

“Olive, can you hear me?”

I have come to the conclusion that there are no solutions.  My fears remain with me, solid as a statue since I watched her slip underwater with her eyes wide and a terrified expression on her face.

I hate water.  I hate having to fight the waves and the cold and the memories that won’t go away.