by R. L. Stine
I wish I were back there with them, I thought. I didn’t tell anyone. But the trip to the falls was giving me nightmares—every night.
“This thing weighs a ton,” Erin complained. “I’ll sink!”
“Maybe you should go on a diet,” David said.
“Maybe you should shut up!” Erin snapped.
“Guys! Guys!” Ramos pleaded. “Let’s climb into the canoes. We need to practice paddling together and several other things.”
“How can we paddle in these heavy jackets?” Marty asked.
“That’s why we are having this practice session,” Ramos replied. “So you can learn how.”
Two aluminum canoes rested on the shore. They glowed under the bright afternoon sunlight.
We stepped up to the canoes. “Wow. They’re brand-new,” I muttered. “How come we get brand-new canoes?” I asked Ramos.
Ramos mopped the sweat off his forehead with one hand. “We had to buy new ones,” he said. “The canoes from last year’s trip were totaled.”
“Hey!” Corey shouted. He grabbed Ramos by the arm and pulled him aside. “What’s wrong with you, man?” he asked. “You weren’t supposed to tell them that. Remember?”
Ramos shrugged. “They should know the truth,” he said. “I’m not going to lie to them.”
Both talking at once, the two counselors moved back toward the woods. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But they kept shaking their heads and gesturing angrily with their hands. We could tell they were arguing.
I turned and gazed at the two shiny canoes. They looked so small and flimsy. Could they really take us safely down Forbidden Falls?
Charlotte stepped up next to me. I could see the fear in her eyes. “I guess the senior campers last year didn’t do so well,” she said softly.
“We’ll bring these canoes back without a dent,” I said. I was trying to sound like a hero—but my voice cracked.
The rest of the practice went okay. We took the canoes out onto the river and practiced paddling together. The river was flat and calm here. But with three in a canoe, we could get them moving pretty fast.
We returned to camp in time for afternoon swim. I was hot and sweaty. The lake looked really inviting to me.
I hurried up the hill to my cabin to get changed. I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Marty and David had to help put the canoes away. So I was the only one there.
I tugged off my T-shirt and tossed it onto my bed. It landed on top of a white square. A sheet of paper?
Yes. I picked it up. A note someone had left me. Written in bold red ink.
I held it close and struggled to read the scribbled words:
DON’T GO. YOU’LL NEVER RETURN.
8
The night before our trip to Forbidden Falls, I dreamed I was alone in a canoe. In the dream, the river was bright red.
It flowed so quickly, it sent my canoe speeding toward the falls without any paddling. In fact, I didn’t have any paddles. I sat helplessly in the canoe, searching for my friends, shouting their names.
The roar of the falls became deafening. I covered my ears. The canoe started to toss and bounce on the red water. I gripped the sides with both hands to keep from falling out.
I could see the falls ahead of me. A steep drop like the edge of a cliff. The red water bubbled and foamed.
And then my canoe tipped over. And I fell into the roaring red water. The intense current pulled me down…down beneath the surface.
I struggled to get to the top, fighting the surging waves. When I finally surfaced, Panda, my black-and-white cocker spaniel from home, was in the water with me. He was swimming frantically, his paws slapping the rushing water.
I reached out a hand. Tried to grab him. And instead the current dragged me over the tumbling falls.
I woke up screaming.
Marty and David were leaning over me, shaking me. “Russell—wake up. Wake up!”
“Huh?” I blinked my eyes open. I could still feel the current, the rushing red water pulling me down.
“You were having a nightmare,” Marty said. “We couldn’t wake you up.”
“Were you dreaming about Forbidden Falls?” David asked.
“Of course not!” I snapped. “Why would I dream about the falls?”
I was angry at David. He was the one who left the scribbled note on my bed. He confessed the next day. He thought it was real funny.
“Then why did you scream like that?” David asked.
“I was dreaming about your face!” I said.
Gray light poured in through the cabin window. It was nearly dawn. No point in going back to sleep.
I climbed out of bed and started to pack. I stashed most of my stuff in my backpack. Then I folded the rest up in my sleeping bag.
Lugging our gear on our backs, David, Marty, and I made our way down the hill. The rising sun cast a red stripe low over the trees. The grass shimmered wetly from the morning dew. The air still carried the chill of night.
We met Charlotte and Erin by the lake. Then, bending under our backpacks and sleeping bags, we made our way through the woods to the river.
Ramos met us there. He was sitting on the ground next to the bags of rolled-up nylon tents, drinking coffee from a paper cup. Three canoes bobbed gently in the water behind him.
“Where’s Corey?” I asked.
“He isn’t coming. You’re stuck with me.”
We dumped our gear on the ground. Ramos shook his head. “It’s only a two-day trip. Did you bring everything you own?”
“Yeah. I brought a little TV in case we get bored,” David joked.
“Russell brought his teddy bear,” Marty said.
I tossed a punch at his shoulder. “Give me a break, Marty.”
“Yeah. Give Russell a break,” Ramos said. “No more kidding around. We have to be totally serious. Remember, we’re all in this together.”
“David and Marty are a little tense,” I told Ramos. “I’ll try to calm them down.”
“Is it supposed to rain?” Erin asked. She and Charlotte had their eyes on the low gray clouds overhead.
“If it stays cloudy, that’s good,” Ramos said. “It’s hard to paddle long distances under a burning sun.” He gazed up at the clouds. “Of course, if it rains, the river could get really churned up. We could have a more exciting ride than we expect!”
Those words sent a chill down my back.
David grinned at me. “Did you bring an umbrella, Russell?”
I ignored him and helped Ramos load the tents, backpacks, and sleeping bags into the equipment canoe. Then Ramos carefully tied the equipment canoe to one of the other canoes.
“Okay, how shall we divide up?” Ramos asked, handing out sets of paddles. “Russell and Charlotte—you come with me. Erin, Marty, and David—you take the lead canoe.”
We pulled on our life jackets. Then, holding his paddles in front of him, Ramos climbed into the canoe and made his way to the back.
I stepped in next. The canoe tilted to the side. “Whoa!” My hands shot up as I almost toppled out.
Charlotte and some of the others laughed. “Stop it, Russell. You did that deliberately,” she said.
“Yeah. I did,” I lied. I could feel myself blushing.
Shape up, Russell, I scolded myself. We haven’t even left the shore—and you almost fell in! You can do better than that.
I took a deep breath and settled into my place in the middle of the canoe. Charlotte climbed in. She sat down, dropped her paddles, and finished fastening the buckles on her life jacket.
A few minutes later, we took off from the shore. Our canoe followed the other kids. The equipment canoe bobbed along behind us.
I started to paddle. It felt awkward and hard. It took a while to get a rhythm going.
The sky grew darker. I felt a few cold raindrops on my head. On the shore, I glimpsed a family of fat brown-and-black raccoons loping into the trees.
“The river is slow today,” Ramos said. “We�
��re going to have to do most of the work. Lean into it, guys.”
We paddled harder. Water splashed onto the sides of the canoe.
“I—I think I’m seasick!” David called. He pretended to puke over the side of his canoe.
“Very mature,” Erin groaned. She turned back to us. “Ramos, can I switch to your canoe?”
Marty and David giggled.
Ramos shrugged. “You can swim alongside if you want.”
“How long does the river stay calm like this?” I asked.
“Not for long,” Ramos replied. “It gets faster about ten miles from here. Of course, we won’t hit the real white-water rapids until tomorrow.”
I swallowed hard. I tried to picture the white-water rapids. I imagined the falls, plunging straight down. I pictured roaring white foam. Canoe paddles flying out of our hands. The canoes turning over. Everyone screaming…
“Russell, get with the program.” Ramos’s words broke into my frightened thoughts. “Remember our practice. You’ve got to paddle with the rest of us. Were you daydreaming or something?”
“No. He fainted!” David called back. His canoe had pulled farther ahead of us.
“Let’s catch up to them,” Ramos said. “Come on. Paddle. One-two. One-two. Up-back. One-two.”
When we pulled alongside the other canoe, the sky lightened again. We seemed to be leaving the dark clouds behind. The water rippled gently, dark under the gray morning sky.
“The river curves right up ahead,” Ramos said. “And it picks up speed.”
“Maybe we can coast for a while,” Erin said, sighing.
“We’ll paddle in shifts,” Ramos said. “Everyone will get a break. But listen up, I want to give some last-minute instructions.”
Marty and David were laughing about something.
“Come on, guys,” Ramos said sharply. “It could save your lives. I want you to remember—if you fall in when we hit the rough stuff, don’t struggle. Don’t try to swim out. Your life jacket will keep you afloat. Get your feet out in front of you so you float on your back. And then let the current carry you.”
“Shouldn’t we try to get back to the canoe?” I asked.
Ramos shook his head. “Too dangerous. The canoe might hit you or run over you. It’s best to let the current carry you down. Just be careful of the rocks.”
We paddled in silence for a while. I listened to the splash of the paddles in the water. A flock of birds flew high overhead, black V’s against the gray sky.
Charlotte broke the silence. “But Ramos, if we fall out, won’t you come rescue us in the canoe?”
“Too dangerous,” he replied. “I won’t be able to control it well enough up at the top. I’ll have to pull you out down below.”
“You mean—after we go over the falls?” I asked.
“Yeah. After,” Ramos replied. “But don’t worry.”
A chill ran down my back. “Don’t worry?” My throat suddenly felt tight.
If we fall out, we have to swim over the falls?
I knew Ramos was trying to prepare us. He was trying to let us know what to expect.
But his words were terrifying me.
I leaned forward and paddled harder, trying not to think about falling into the roaring rapids…the jutting, jagged black rocks…the sheer drop over the falls.
I can’t believe we’re just sitting in these canoes so calmly, I thought. I can’t believe we’re all facing this incredible danger.
The canoe rocked. We started to pick up speed. The current grew stronger. The rolling river pulled us around the curve. The canoes pitched from side to side. Waves lapped higher on the sides of the canoe.
“Whoa!”
I felt a hard bump.
Without warning, the canoe leapt up.
And I went flying.
9
I flew up—then bounced down hard, back into my place.
I felt Ramos’s hand on my shoulder. “Easy,” he said softly.
I turned and saw him climbing out of the canoe. “It’s too shallow here, guys. We hit bottom.”
“We did, too,” Marty called. His canoe wasn’t moving. The water trickled past.
“We have to get out and carry them for a while,” Ramos instructed. He splashed into the water. Then he held the canoe steady for Charlotte and me to climb out.
We all waded to shore. The water was only a foot or two deep. My sneakers sank into the soft mud of the river bottom.
“It’s only about half a mile,” Ramos told us. “Then the river is deep enough the rest of the way.”
Charlotte and I carried our canoe above our heads. It was lighter than I thought it would be. Erin and Marty carried the other canoe. David helped Ramos drag the equipment canoe over the ground.
We slogged along the muddy, marshy riverbank. Our boots made splosh splosh sounds as we walked. The air was warm and perfectly still. No breeze at all. The river was brown here, more like a narrow creek than a river.
As we walked, my arms grew tired. My muscles ached. I wanted to put down the canoe and rest awhile.
“Almost there,” Ramos called, as if reading my mind.
And then I stumbled. Over a thick tree root poking up from the mud.
The canoe ripped from my hands. I tumbled forward. Into a tree.
No. Into something soft and dry on the side of a tree.
As I struggled to get my balance, I heard an angry buzzing sound. I jumped back.
Something shot past my ear, buzzing loudly.
Insects? Two more. Five more. I couldn’t count them. They swarmed around my face.
I slapped the air with my hand. Tried to brush them away.
The droning buzz became an angry roar.
“Wasps!” I heard Charlotte cry from behind me.
“Russell knocked over a wasps’ nest!” Marty shouted.
A dozen wasps darted in rapid circles around me. I felt one in my hair. Wasps buzzed over my head. Several landed on my T-shirt, wings flitting too fast to see.
Zzzzzzzzzzz. It sounded like a buzz saw.
The wasps darted and jabbed against my face, my bare arms. I tried to swat them away.
“Don’t move!” Ramos called. “Stand perfectly still. Wait till they calm down.”
I froze with my arms tight at my sides. It wasn’t easy. The wasps circled, darting and spinning.
I shut my eyes. I gritted my teeth so hard, my jaw ached.
“Are you allergic?” Ramos called. “Russell—are you allergic to wasp stings?”
“I—I don’t know,” I choked out. “I’ve never been stung before.”
And then I cried out as I felt a sharp, stinging pain—like a knife stab—in the side of my neck.
10
YAAAAIIIIII!
I wanted to scream. I wanted to wail and shriek my head off.
But I didn’t.
I was proud of that. I think maybe that’s one reason no one teased me about the wasps later.
The sting swelled only a little bit. It itched a lot. But the cream that Ramos spread over it kept it from really hurting.
“You were lucky,” Ramos said later as we paddled along the river, the current pulling us easily. “All those wasps and only one sting. The others must have decided that you wrecked their nest by accident.”
I forced a weak laugh. “I guess.”
“You were brave the way you just froze there and let them climb all over you,” Charlotte said. She shuddered. “Just thinking about it gives me the creeps.”
The river picked up speed. We took turns paddling. The sun tried to come out a few times. But it couldn’t break through the high clouds.
My neck was throbbing and I felt a little dizzy by the time Ramos announced it was time to stop for the day. We pulled the canoes to a wide, grassy area on the shore.
Then we carried the tents and other supplies across the grass to a flat, dry circle surrounded by tall trees. I saw a rabbit watching us from the edge of the woods. Two squawking blue jays swooped thro
ugh the low branches of the trees.
The air carried a chill. The sky darkened to charcoal gray.
“We need lots of firewood,” Ramos instructed. “After we cook our food, we’ll want to keep the fire going for warmth. Get going, guys.”
He set to work on the tents. The five of us made our way into the woods.
I was walking with David and Marty. But when I bent down to pick up some long twigs, they wandered away. I saw the two girls on the other side of a clump of tall reeds. They were struggling to pick up a fat log from the ground.
“Russell—find any wasps’ nests?” Marty called.
“Not yet!” I shouted back.
“We’re staying as far away from you as we can,” David said.
Erin said something, but I couldn’t hear her. I was staring at something caught in the brambles of a low bush.
At first I thought it was a small white bird. But bending down, I saw that it was an arrow. A stone arrowhead with a wooden shaft and a long white feather attached. “Weird,” I muttered.
I picked it up to study it. Was it an Indian arrow?
“Hey—check this out!” Charlotte called. Carrying the arrow, I hurried over to her. She held up a small brown object. “I found it resting against that tree.”
“A doll?” I asked.
She nodded. “It’s made of some kind of leather. And it’s wearing a long dress, all fringed. It’s an Indian papoose.”
“It’s a Native American papoose,” Erin corrected her, taking it from Charlotte.
I showed them the feathered arrow. “Remember? Native Americans lived in these woods for hundreds of years,” I said.
“But these things are brand-new,” Erin replied.
“How could that be?” Charlotte asked, running her finger over the fresh white feather of the arrow. “Ramos told us the Indians were driven out a hundred years ago. So how did these things get here?”
“It’s a mystery,” Erin said. She handed the little leather doll back to Charlotte. “A real mystery.”
I heard the Indian drums again that night.
We all gobbled up dinner—hot dogs on the fire and sandwiches left over from lunch. We were starving.
