The Campers

They had been out there for six days. Today was the start of their seventh. They had tents, grills, various sports balls, and a sun bathing station. I opened my curtains a bit more, sure to stand behind them. The park never looked so crowded.

I grabbed my purse and jacket and rushed down the stairs. I yelled out to Mom that I was leaving for the market. I planned on baking a cake for Emily’s birthday. I opened the door and closed it behind me. No walls or windows stood between me and the campers. Everyone walking past stared at them. I would’ve done the same, but I was busy looking at my neighbors. The newcomers then started chanting, singing to the sky standing in a circle. One passerby bumped into another, fixated on the display. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Neither could the others, as murmurs and questions scattered through the sidewalks.

I had a mission and had to stick to it. I skipped down our steps and weaved through the people going against my current. Corner market. Eggs, milk, and cocoa powder. Eggs, milk, and cocoa powder. Eggs, milk, and --

“Are you ready for the gathering?” A strange man planted himself in front of me, blocking my track. 

“What? Excuse me.” I tried scooting past him, but he gripped my shoulders.

“Are you ready for the gathering?”

“Get your hands off of me!” I bolted out of his hold and around the corner. I kept running until I got to the produce section. There was a sale on cauliflower. I looked behind me and saw no trace of whoever that was. Once my heart rate dropped, I headed to the baking aisle. I huffed and puffed, scanning for cocoa powder. With the product located and in hand, I made my way to the refrigerators, looking over my shoulders every three steps. I snatched my eggs and looked through the glass door for any irregularities or omens. I made my way down a few doors. With my eyes on those around me, I felt around for a handle. I snatched the first I felt and made a beeline for the cash register. Whole milk, skim, two-percent. I didn’t care. My hand shook, and my fingers stumbled through my wallet. I saw green and threw a few bills on the counter.

“Keep the change.” I grabbed my bag of items and dashed. The door’s bell marked the start of my race home. I wanted to run, but I had to play it cool. I didn’t need the attention of that stranger and his friends. But what made him stop me before? Between “Excuse me” and “Pardon me,” I made a mess of my walk home. Before, I was focused and snake-like. Now, I reflected a bumper car. Clean up on aisle meltdown. Four more blocks, and I’d be home.

Car horns grew louder, as I strode home. It was like I walked out of a locker room tunnel and into an arena full of fans. However, when I turned the corner, the horns were not as friendly. Along with the surrounding pedestrians, I slowed down my steps to take in the scene. People standing on cars, looking up at the sky, with their arms open. Everything was at a stand still, except for the sidewalk traffic. No pedestrians crossed the street. They stood on street corners, cursing and yanking at something. I pushed through. Once at the curb, I saw people lying on the roads, looking up to the sky. They were packed like sardines or a sleeve of crackers. They left no spaces for everyday joggers, commuters, or tourists.

The campers then started to sing. The tone-deaf chanted. I couldn’t decipher the lyrics. I never could. At football games, concerts, and rallies, I never made out the mumbles.

“What are they saying?” I ask the onlooker to my left.

“I don’t know,” they replied. “It sounds foreign to me.” I wasn’t the only one. Maybe it was foreign. Maybe neither of us had the ears for their cause.

Just then, they started counting down. “Ten!” I looked around me and saw everyone else looking around too. “Nine!” There was something about that crowd counting down that made me want to run away as fast and as far as I could, so I did. I stumbled my way home, shouldered every two seconds. Everyone was hurrying home, so none of us could hurry that well. “Eight!” In a disaster scenario, people show their priorities. A strange demonstration isn’t a disaster, but this scared everyone. Some tripped, and others trampled. Some videotaped, and others joined the display. “Seven!” I was ten sidewalk squares from my front steps. “Six!” I rode the wave of the crowd as well as I could. “Five!” I winced, as strangers pushed me into fences. “Four!” Two squares left. “Three!” One square from fresh air. “Two!” I dropped off at my gate, ran up the steps. “One!” I looked back at the street below, with my hand on the door knob. “Happy new year!”

I could’ve saved myself some trauma if I had turned that knob sooner. The campers sprang up and attacked. I didn’t see any knives, but I heard screams and saw fighting. They kicked in and shattered windshields. My mother opened our door from the inside and pulled me in. Through the window, I saw blood staining shirts and sidewalks. I was dragged down the basement staircase. I still don’t know how I didn’t trip over myself. My mind was delayed, but my feet were fine. Once seated on the cool concrete floor, I registered the bag in my hand. All dozen eggs broke.

The next day, we were evacuated. The campers were conducting a ceremony for a divergent religion and calendar. They were summoned by their guardian to cleanse the human race on March 13 at 3:00 p.m. eastern standard time. Their new year. He was executed, and I now go to therapy once a week and am an alcoholic at 18 years old. Happy new year.