The Wild Ones Page 2

  “Screw you, Jamal.”

  Jamal slapped me on the arm and smiled. “He has daddy issues,” he whispered.

  My brow pinched, and I cast a glance at him then returned to looking at Jamal who was bouncing his head to the rhythm of music.

  “So your father will come and collect you?” I asked.

  “Oh he will once I give Colonel Sanders a good reason.”

  “Stop calling him that,” Tobias shot back.

  “Well he was a colonel, wasn’t he? And your last name is Sanders.” He glanced at me. “The only thing we’re missing now is a bucket of chicken.” He burst out laughing.

  Tobias rose from his bunk and trudged over, whipping out his knife in a threatening manner. He looked as if he was about to go nuclear when Nick appeared in the doorway.

  “We got a problem here?”

  Tobias stopped in his tracks, glared and slowly put his knife away. “No problem.”

  He gave Jamal a look of death and then sauntered back to his bunk.

  A tousled head of ginger hair appeared from behind Nick. Wide eyes. Overly eager. A short kid, slightly overweight and weighed down by an oversized backpack. He grinned and pushed his way past Nick.

  “You’re in here, Eli.”

  “Thanks, Nick,” he replied. The kid dropped his bag down on a bunk, the bed above him was empty. As soon as Nick disappeared he emptied out the contents of his bag and it was full of candy and chips. Everyone including the emo kid turned and looked at him without saying a word. We watched as he filled up a couple of the crates and then went back outside and returned with another bag that had his clothes inside.

  Jamal leaned down and whispered, “That’s Eli Roberts. The kid is one candy bar away from a diabetic crash. Every year he fails the simulation, but you got to give it to the kid, he has a no-quit attitude. Oh, and just a warning, you might not want to get too close, he suffers from a bad case of halitosis.”

  Jamal leaned back and took a red stress ball and tossed it up at the ceiling as I began to fill one of the narrow crates. The contents of my duffel bag paled in comparison to everyone else’s. A wash bag, a few long-sleeved tops, underwear for two weeks, a can of bug spray contributed by my mother and a dog-eared copy of Jon Krakauer’s book Into the Wild based on the life of Christopher McCandless. It had been provided by my father. He’d circled a quote by McCandless that went something along the lines of joy coming from new experiences. I tossed it to one side.

  “So what’s the deal with this place?” I asked, continuing to unravel my belongings.

  “Your brother never told you about it?”

  “My brother tends to keep things to himself.”

  He rolled over. “It’s all about survival here, Scotty boy. Just us, and the forest,” he replied. “No towns for miles, no nothing. Did you not read the website? We won’t be seeing anyone for the next two weeks. Well, you guys won’t. Like I said, I’ll be out of here in two days.”

  “Why two days?”

  “It’s all about the first impression. I have to give my father some sense that I tried otherwise he’ll shoot it down. Last year, it took me four days before I got kicked out. Strangely enough I thought they wouldn’t let me back this year for what I did but lo-and-behold, here I am. I guess money does talk.”

  “What did you do to get kicked out?”

  “Punched a guy and put another one in the hospital by stepping on his eye. Though in all fairness, the eye squish was an accident. It was dark and part of sleeping under the stars. I needed a piss and I couldn’t see out there.”

  I laughed.

  “And my brother thought drinking ipecac syrup was extreme.”

  Jamal put a closed fist up to his mouth. “That is a little extreme.”

  There was a few minutes of silence.

  “So if you don’t like it here, why bother coming?” I asked.

  He cast a strange smile. “My father used to go here when he was a kid. You know how it is. Just because they love it they think we will. Next year I think I might be able to talk him out of it. There’s a camp that’s just started for folks who play PS4. Sounds right up my alley.”

  I shoved a few more items into the overstuffed crate “I wish I had that option.”

  The events of the previous night replayed like a movie in my head.

  “You’ve got to be joking?” I said. I knew it was too good to be true. They’d blindsided me. Ambushed me, heck, even used one of my own tactics — catching someone at the peak of their happiest moment. Mine? Finishing school for the summer. That’s right, I was free of that hellhole. It was all behind me. Like a nightmare that I had just awoke from. Even the cold sweats were gone. But no, it was back again and worse than before. They waited until the night before to tell me, knowing full well that I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

  “Now Scott, you know the rules.”

  “Yeah, while I’m under your roof, you say jump, and I say, how high?”

  “Don’t be a wiseass,” my father said, his arms folded in front of him, resting on his paunch of a belly. “Your mother and I have plans.”

  “Plans?” I jabbed my chest, pleading my case. “I’ve got plans.”

  “And by plans you mean waking up at noon, binge watching Netflix and texting Jenny Carter into the early hours of the morning, or do you mean waking up at seven, looking for a summer job and doing some work around the house?” my mother asked, her voice building in volume to make it clear that she had clued into my plans for the next 12 weeks.

  C’mon. Wasn’t that what summers were for? Dicking around. Having some fun before you hit the books and became another zombie in a crowd of faces. Before you cashed in what remaining freedom you had in exchange for a job, a wife, kids and a crippling mortgage? Okay that was way down the line but still, I think you get my drift.

  I cleared my throat feeling it tighten. No, I was not going down with this ship. No sir. Celine Dion could just stop singing that damn Titanic tune in my ear. My damn heart was going on, it was not ending up holding the shit end of the stick, and disappearing under the surface of these frigid waters.

  “Well?” My mother was waiting.

  What was I meant to say? How long had they been conspiring to drop this on me? Were they trying to ruin my life? Those were the kind of things that might have come out of Nick’s mouth but not mine. Oh, Nick is my older brother and partly to blame for all of this. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh right, yeah, I couldn’t cry about it. I was almost an adult. A stone’s throw away from heading out into the real world and making my mark but by the looks of what my parents had in store, the only mark I was going to make was a muddy one on a godforsaken cabin floor in the middle of nowhere.

  “You know I’m going to get a job. I didn’t say I would sit around the entire summer. I’ve already contacted a few places. In fact, I might even have an interview lined up on Monday.”

  “Yeah, with who?”

  I muttered under my breath a few unintelligible words. My father cupped a hand over his ear. He had this glint in his eye as if he could see right through my bull crap.

  “But this is Nick’s thing.”

  My mother nodded. “You’re right, it is.”

  “And I need to find something that’s my thing.”

  She jabbed her finger. “Exactly.”

  The heaviness in my chest began to fade. Finally, I was getting through to them. I could even see the end zone in sight. Like one of the many football games I’d played, I was going for a touchdown. Just a few more counter maneuvers, zigzagging the opposition like a pro and I would soar through the air and the crowd would go wild — except that’s not what happened.

  Somewhere in the last 10 yards my father bamboozled me.

  “And that’s why you are going with him.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight and shook my head. “Wait. Hold on a second. Back up the truck. At what point between you saying I’m right and then telling me I’m going with him, did I screw up?”

  “S
cott. Scott,” my mother said getting up from her seat at the table and coming around. Now she was laying the mother card down real hard. She squeezed my shoulders. “Honey, this isn’t about you. It’s us. Your father and I haven’t got away in… well… forever. We need this.”

  “So go. Let Nick go. I’ll stay and keep an eye on the house.”

  “And party?” my father said, eying me with suspicion.

  Damn it, they were like an unbeatable tag team. Had it just been my mother, I figured I could have worn her down, made her see my side of it but my father was always the voice of reason. The steadfast, unwavering force that guided this ship. Always at the helm, ever vigilant of his offspring’s attempts to wiggle their way out of the uncomfortable.

  By uncomfortable, I mean Zombie Survival Camp.

  I know what you’re thinking. I too had to pinch myself the first time Nick mentioned it. It seemed that calling it Survival Camp wasn’t enough, they had to tack Zombie on the front of it. Why?

  Well, beside it being a marketing tactic, I’ll tell you why, because they are stark raving mad.

  Of course it’s not a typical summer camp but I will get to that in a minute.

  The very thought of it made me shudder. Hell, Nick hadn’t been there in two years, and now they wanted to sentence me to the same place? Damn, while they were at it, why didn’t they just enroll me in summer school? No, this was not happening. It was time to bring out the big guns. They’d forced my hand.

  I sucked in air between my teeth and leaned back in my seat and tried to do a bit of reverse psychology. “Man, as much as I would like to go, I said I would help out at the MMA summer camp this year.”

  It was a complete lie because I knew the business had closed down a month ago but they didn’t know that — at least I didn’t think they did. I expected silence to stretch between us, a few nods and then they would be telling me I was good to leave while they went about canceling whatever plans they had prearranged, but that wasn’t to be.

  “Actually, that’s why we wanted to speak to you. They’ve closed, Scott. I’m sorry.”

  Of course I couldn’t let on that I knew, otherwise that would have led me down another rabbit hole of questions.

  “Closed down?”

  My father got up from the table and went over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He cracked off the top and leaned back against the counter. In my mind I could already hear Celine’s voice getting louder in my ear and feel the water rising up and over my mouth. Everything about the way my father was standing declared victory.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry, son, you’re not going alone. Being as Nick attended four years in a row, Tom Sanders feels he is more than capable of being able to teach the camp activities.”

  “Teach?”

  “He’s making Nick an instructor for two weeks,” my mother said.

  My father flashed me a smile. “Which means you’ll be learning from your brother. How’s that sound?”

  How’s that sound? How’s that sound?

  I blinked unable to believe what I was hearing. Now anyone else might have been overjoyed, heck, the chance to scurry away to some wilderness adventure full of survival tactics, campfire fun and friendship building activities might have been bliss, but not for me. No, no, not me. It was complicated, real complicated. It wasn’t just the fact that I would hate every goddamn minute I was there, it meant... taking orders from my brother? Are you kidding me?

  No, it was time to kick this up a notch. “How about I wait to hear back on the job front first?”

  “We don’t have time for that. You’re going.”

  “Come on, please. There has to be another way.”

  “There isn’t,” my father said shuffling his way across the floor doing some kind of cha-cha. “You mother and I are going on that cruise, heading for the Caribbean for two weeks of glorious sun, sand and…”

  I threw a hand up before he embedded in my mind a visual of them doing the double-backed monster. I was old enough to understand all that, hell, I’d dabbled in it enough with Jenny but some images couldn’t be erased from the mind.

  “You know, guys, this is all a bit sudden. It means I’d have to leave...”

  “Tomorrow. Six o’clock, bright and early. Roll call, and all.”

  “But…”

  My mother put her hand on top of mine. “Hon, I’ve already packed your things.”

  And that was it. Just like that. The pooch was screwed. That’s how it all began. Now did fate play a hand in it? I’m not sure if I believe in fate.

  My father did this jig out of the room, taking my mother’s hand and muttering something under his breath about tanning lotion, motion sickness pills and bug spray. That was about the sum of their survival preparation. Ours? Oh, I wish it was as easy as spreading on a thick layer of cream, sucking down a pill and covering our bodies in spray to ward off the freaks that would try to rob, steal and destroy, but it required more — so much more. I just didn’t know it right then.

  My mind flipped back to the present as I headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Jamal asked.

  I thumbed over my shoulder “I’ve got to clean up. You want to give me a hand?”

  He laughed. “Hell no.”

  I grinned as I walked out into the night and headed for the main compound to collect a bucket and mop. When I entered the building Tom Sanders was in the middle of a group talk with the instructors, they didn’t call them counselors, as they weren’t there to counsel anyone. Their job was to instruct and give everyone a good ass kicking. Nick cast a glance my way and pointed to a cupboard where the bucket and mop was. I collected it and went off to face the deluge of puke.

  Thirty-five minutes later, after taking a quick shower, and making my way back to the cabin, I saw Nick standing outside chatting to Brooke Sanders. She was looking off to one side while he chatted with her. I knew he didn’t want to be here because of her but I still didn’t know what the issue was.

  “Lights out!” a voice bellowed from somewhere in the camp. Tobias walked over to the doorway and flipped a switch but not before throwing a menacing look our way. I crawled into bed and tried to get comfortable which wasn’t easy as it felt like I was sleeping on a block of concrete. Jamal kept moving around in the top bunk, then hung down over the side.

  “You don’t sleepwalk, do you?”

  “No, why?”

  “Ryland over there does. So don’t be too freaked out if you see him walking around in the dark.” He disappeared and after a few more minutes of creaking, and voices outside, the only sound that could be heard was the wind in the trees. Fortunately for us it had been a warm summer so far, otherwise we would have frozen to death. No windows. No door? What were they suffering from, budget cuts? It was a stark contrast to where I’d spent previous summers. My mind circled to earlier that evening and the collection of new faces. I shifted again, feeling the bedsprings jab into my spine. Uncomfortable, that could sum up this place.

  “Scotty?” Jamal asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the deal with your brother and Brooke Sanders?”

  I never answered. A flash of memories. Two years ago. I recalled Nick returning from Survival Camp fuming mad, and his words to our father.

  I’m never going back.

  Survivalists

  Colonel Tom Sanders looked like GI Joe. He was a bulky man geared up in black military fatigues, army boots and a baseball cap that sported the yellow logo for the camp. Of course he hadn’t done one day in the military but that didn’t stop him from acting like he was God’s gift to America. I can’t believe they sent me here, I thought as he paced back and forth in front of us all. Jamal had spent the first hour of the morning filling me in on what to expect, giving me the rundown on each of the instructors and what not to do if I didn’t want them to single me out. That, of course, was the most important, no one wanted to look like a buffoon in front of twenty-four campers. That’s how many were there tha
t year, a mix of guys and girls of all different ages. Jamal said that they used to have upwards of a hundred back when he first started but it had dwindled after Sanders jacked his prices and hired a bunch of lunatics for instructors.

  “Now listen up, in a few minutes I’m going to hand you over to the instructors here but before I do that I want to go over some important things.” He stopped walking and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “We had a few incidents last night,” he eyed me and then his eyes darted to three of the other kids, “but that’s okay, that isn’t any different from what we have experienced in the past. We expect you to be a bit rough around the edges.” His voice boomed out loudly. “I also recognize you might want to be somewhere else but let’s get a few things clear here. While you are here at my camp, you will abide by a few ground rules.” His eyes penetrated each of us. “And the biggest one is that you are to listen to your instructors. Second, you will do as you are asked. Third, whatever issues you have, leave them at home. We are not here to mollycoddle or listen to your sob story about how life is unfair. All that matters to me is what you will become once you graduate.”

  Graduate? What on earth was he on about?

  He continued. “I’m talking about becoming survivalists. And to survive, you are going to have to dig down deep but I want you to know you are not alone. One of the first steps of survival is knowing that going it alone is a death sentence. You are only as strong as the man or woman beside you, do you understand?”

  A few murmurs spread down the line. It felt like we were in some military boot camp. Not that I’d ever been in one but I’d seen a few on TV, and these instructors had the same glint of excitement in their eyes as if they were going to enjoy punishing us.

  Sanders sniffed hard and gazed up into the sky with a look of defiance. “Now by the time these two weeks are over, you will have learned many things that will help you when the shit hits the fan and believe me, it’s not a case of if, but when it will happen. Hopefully not in your lifetime but I wouldn’t bank on it.”

  “It’s already hit the fan,” I muttered under my breath.