by R. L. Stine
It was an animal roar. A monster roar. She tossed back her head and bellowed in a total rage.
I spun around. My legs were like rubber bands. I couldn’t get them to work.
Somehow I staggered to the office door. The doorknob was covered in yellow snot. But I grabbed it, pulled the door open, and lurched into the hall.
I could hear her animal wails of fury all the way down the hall, out the building, and up the path to the boys’ cabins. The cries rang through the air like ambulance sirens.
That didn’t go well.
I’m in trouble.
I’m … doomed.
Gasping for breath, my chest throbbing, I burst into my cabin. I stopped at the door when I saw Ricardo and Sophie inside.
Ricardo was wiping mud off his face with a bath towel. He must have been Mud Boxing, one of the other competitions. When she saw me, Sophie jumped up from the cot she had been sitting on.
“You knew she was allergic. You tricked me. I — I thought you were my friends,” I stammered breathlessly.
“We are your friends,” Sophie said. “We were trying to teach you not to trust anyone.”
“Don’t you understand?” Ricardo said. “We’re your friends. But you can’t trust anyone here. Especially your friends.”
Does that make any sense at all?
I slumped onto my cot. My hair was sticky with yellow snot. My whole body prickled with sweat. My heart was still racing in my chest.
“But … what if we all worked together?” I said. “What if we all stood up to Uncle Felix and Mrs. Maaargh and refused to play their game?”
They both stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language.
“That idea is for losers,” Sophie said finally. “We came here to be winners.”
“Dog-eat-dog,” said Ricardo.
I scowled at them both. “I get it,” I muttered. “I can’t trust either of you. I can’t trust anybody here.”
Suddenly, the cabin door slammed open. Startled, I jumped to my feet as two big dudes — counselors in red WINNER T-shirts — burst in. They both had shaved heads, biceps bulging under their T-shirt sleeves, and mean expressions.
Their eyes moved from face to face and stopped on me. They each grabbed one of my arms.
“You’re coming with us,” one of them growled. They started to drag me to the door.
“Hey — let go!” I cried. “Let go of me! Where are you taking me?”
They didn’t answer my questions until they’d pulled me down to the mud pit on the beach. It was the size of a small pond, filled with gooey brown mud. When you stepped into it, you sank instantly to your waist.
“Why did you drag me here? What’s the big idea?” I cried.
“You missed Sports Hour,” one of the beefy, bald counselors said. “So how about a game of mud tag?”
“Huh? Mud tag? No. I —”
“Only losers run away,” his buddy said. “It’s time for your mud tag game. Go ahead. Try to run. Then we’ll tag you.”
“No — please,” I begged. “Mud makes me break out. Really.”
I turned to see Mrs. Maaargh watching from the other side of the mud pit. Her head was still swollen from the wildflowers. She had chunks of yellow snot in her hair.
She was leaning on a javelin and had a big grin on her puffy face. “Let’s see how you do in the mud, dog,” she said.
“But I don’t want —”
“Bert here will give you a good game,” she said. She signaled Bert with one paw.
My heart leaped to my mouth. I started to choke. “No. Please —” I begged.
Bert nodded and came after me. His hands were bigger than my head!
I stopped at the edge of the mud pit. The wet mud was actually bubbling.
Bert came staggering after me, hands raised to tag me. “You know how to play tag, don’t you, dog?”
I had no choice. I stumbled into the pit — and instantly began to sink. The warm mud seeped over my sneakers and up my legs.
Bert stepped into the mud pit. He had one blue eye and one brown eye. They were both staring at me as if they could see right through me.
It was a very short match.
Before I could move, Bert swung his arm forward and gave me a hard slap in the gut. “Tag — you’re it!”
I doubled over. Collapsed face-first into the mud. And just sprawled there, my arms outstretched on the warm mud, waiting for the pain to stop racing up and down my body.
Game over.
Lying there, facedown in the mud, frozen in pain, I knew what I had to do. I knew the only way I could possibly survive.
I took a long shower to wash the mud off. I’m not sure I got it all. My ears were still clogged, and clumps of mud kept dripping from my hair.
I knew my stomach would stop hurting in a week or two. Of course, a little stomach pain wouldn’t matter if I was Mrs. Maaargh’s lunch.
Eight days. Only eight days to go at Camp Winner.
I left mud stains on the towel as I dried myself off. Then I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked up the hill to my cabin.
Someone had painted three words in red on the side of the cabin: MONSTER MEAT INSIDE.
I didn’t care. I had made up my mind. As soon as Bert’s “tag” sent me toppling facedown into the mud, I knew what I had to do to survive.
Hide.
Yes, I’d tried it once before. On the boat. The rattlesnake and Uncle Felix’s spy cameras made that a major fail.
But I planned to be smarter this time. I planned to find a place where there were no spy cameras. I planned to hide on the other side of the island, past the clearing of wildflowers.
There had to be a cave there. Or maybe an abandoned cabin or cottage. Maybe just a dock I could hide under and wait for the boat to come back and take me off the island.
Maybe I’d find a canoe or even a motorboat. I could take myself off the island and get to safety on the other side of the lake.
These brave thoughts made me feel a little better. I pulled on a fresh pair of camp shorts and a T-shirt. I didn’t have anything to pack or take with me since all my belongings had been stolen.
I remembered that Ricardo had some candy bars hidden under his bed. I ducked down, pulled a few out, and tucked them in my pockets.
What else would I eat for eight days? I didn’t want to think about that now. I just wanted to get out of there.
I started to the door when Ricardo came walking in. “Did you see what someone painted on the cabin?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Nice.”
He wiped his sweaty face with the front of his T-shirt. “How did you do in mud tag?”
“How do you think?” I said. I didn’t want to talk to him. Especially after the mean trick he and Sophie had played on me.
“You make us all look good,” he said. He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner.
“Thanks a bunch,” I said. I moved past him toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, scratching his armpits. “Class starts in a few minutes.”
“Nowhere,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” No way I would tell him my plan. I knew he wasn’t a friend.
He laughed. “You still have some mud behind your ears.”
I ignored him and stomped out the door. I was surprised to see that dark clouds had rolled over the island. The air was heavy and moist. It was about to storm.
I didn’t hurry. I walked slowly down the hill. I kept my eyes straight ahead and pretended to act normal. You know. Casual. I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I was running away.
Most kids were in their cabins, cleaning up from the morning sports activities, getting ready for class. I saw Mrs. Maaargh wobbling to the classroom on her huge, pillowy feet. Her red polka-dot dress ballooned around her in the wind, making her look like a monster-sized ladybug.
Luckily, she didn’t see me.
I let out a long sigh as I made it to the woods. I felt a few col
d raindrops on my forehead. But I didn’t care. I was doing it. I was escaping.
I followed the path that I’d found my last time in the woods. With the storm clouds overhead, the woods were nearly as dark as night. Tall shrubs twisted and bent like living creatures. The trees creaked and groaned, as if trying to tell me to go back.
No way. I knew I had to make this plan work. If it didn’t, just put a fork in me and call me cooked.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain pattered the tree leaves like drumbeats.
I squinted through the dim gray light, through the shifting shadows. I needed to find some kind of shelter. A cave, a cabin, a shack, even a hollow tree.
I was getting soaked. The air had turned cold. Wind shook even more rainwater down on me from the high tree branches.
I shivered. I was nearing the end of the path. Nothing but tangles of trees and shrubs up ahead.
I wiped rainwater off my forehead. And cried out as I stumbled over something hard and wide.
I landed on my knees. And stared at the dark object in front of me.
“I don’t believe it!” I cried. “What’s this doing here?”
My duffel bag.
I checked the name tag on it just to make sure. Yes. It was mine. That dude Robb just dumped it here in the middle of the woods.
Squatting over it, I pulled it open. My clothes were neatly folded at the top. Robb hadn’t stolen anything. He hadn’t even opened it. He’d just left it here.
Thunder echoed off the trees. The wind swirled around me.
I decided to go back to the cabin. I was happy to have all my stuff back. I could try to escape again when the weather was better.
I swung the duffel bag over my shoulder and carried it to my cabin. Ricardo looked up from a book he was reading as I walked in.
“Where were you?” he demanded. “You weren’t in class. Mrs. Maaargh said she hates it when her food runs away.”
“I found my stuff,” I said. “Look. Everything is there. That guy didn’t steal a thing. My bag was in the woods.”
“You were in the woods?” Ricardo asked. “Why? Were you running away?”
I ignored his questions and started to unpack the bag. I jammed my T-shirts into the one dresser drawer that was mine. And I hung my two pairs of jeans on a hook on the far wall.
Then I pulled something from the bottom. It was wrapped tightly in newspaper. I tore at the tape and pulled the wrapping off. And stared at the slender bottle in my hand.
“I don’t believe my parents packed this!” I said.
Ricardo set his book on the floor and walked over. “What is it?”
I held the bottle up to him with my hand wrapped around the label. “It’s my favorite chocolate sauce,” I said. “It’s awesome.”
He eyed the bottle. “Chocolate sauce?”
“It’s sort of cherry-chocolate,” I said. “You won’t believe it. Here. Try a taste.”
I twisted open the lid. I held it over his mouth. And I poured a little onto his tongue.
It took him a few seconds to react. Then his eyes went wide and he let out a shrill scream.
“It’s burning me! Noooo. It BURNS! It BURNS! I — I can’t breathe! Help me! Can’t BREATHE!”
Screaming and choking, Ricardo dove for a water bottle beside his cot. He tore it open and glugged down the whole bottle.
I laughed, enjoying my mean joke.
“My … th-throat,” he rasped, rubbing his neck.
“We’re even,” I said. “I just paid you back for telling me to bring wildflowers to Mrs. Maaargh.”
“Wh-what was that?” he gasped. He opened another water bottle and started to drink.
“It’s hot sauce,” I said. “Bombs Away! hot sauce.” I held the label up so he could see it. It showed a big explosion, and it read: IT EXPLODES IN YOUR MOUTH!
Ricardo was still panting like a dog. “You like that stuff?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t like it. But my whole family is nuts about hot sauce, even my little sister.”
I made sure the cap was on tight. “They put it on everything,” I said. “I mean everything, from morning to night. Pancakes, sandwiches, everything. I’m not kidding. They drink it straight from the bottle.”
“Ow,” Ricardo said, rubbing his throat. “But you hate it?”
“Yes, hate it,” I said. “It burns my tongue and makes my whole head hurt.”
Ricardo squinted at me. “So, if you hate it so much, why did they put it in your duffel bag?”
I shoved the bottle back in the duffel bag. “Because my dad says I won’t be a man till I put hot sauce on my food. My whole family gives me a hard time about it. They call me a wimp because I eat my food without hot sauce.”
“And they packed it in your bag because —?”
“Because I’m supposed to learn to be tougher here. It’s Camp Winner, right? I’m supposed to man up and start using the stuff. So they packed it even though they know I hate it.”
He nodded. He finished off the second water bottle.
I pointed to the hot sauce bottle. “Want some more?”
“You’re joking, right? Get rid of that stuff. It’s poison!” Ricardo declared.
I tucked the duffel bag under my cot. Then I sat down across from Ricardo. “Hey, listen,” I said. “Now that we’re even, don’t you think we should help each other?”
He scrunched up his face, thinking about it. He brushed back his long dark hair. “Well … okay,” he said finally. “You’re a good dude. I’d really hate to see that monster eat you.”
“So we’ll help each other?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “You know about Bat Run Night — don’t you?”
I shifted my weight on the cot. “Bat Run Night? What’s that?”
“Mrs. Maaargh takes us all out late at night. Turns on lights. And a million bats come flying out of the woods and bombard us.” He grinned. “Sound like fun?”
“Not exactly,” I said.
“You get covered in bats,” Ricardo said. “If you’re lucky, they don’t bite you.”
“And the last camper standing is the winner?” I said.
“It’s not quite that bad. But it’s bad,” he replied.
“How do you know about it?” I asked.
“My brother, Frederick, told me about it,” Ricardo answered. “He was here two years ago.” He sighed. “I told you, my family is very competitive.”
He reached under the bed and pulled out a spray can. “Frederick told me a trick for Bat Run Night.”
I studied the can. “What is that? Bug spray?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Frederick said you take this stuff and spray a whole mess of it in your hair. He said bats hate it.”
“Bug spray?” I said. “Bats hate bug spray?”
“Yeah. You spray it in your hair and bats won’t bother you. Frederick said they’ll fly away from you. And just cling to everyone else.”
He tossed the can to me. “Do it, Tommy. And you won’t be the loser tonight. Mrs. Maaargh will have to move you up on her chart.” He trotted to the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m late. I’m in the tetherball tournament,” he said. “I know I can win it. My dad set up a tetherball pole in our backyard, and I practiced all spring.”
The door slammed behind him. I watched him trot down the hill. He says he doesn’t like to compete, I thought. But that’s a lie. He’s a real win-win dude.
I studied the can of bug spray in my hand. Should I spray it in my hair before tonight?
That was the big question. Was Ricardo really trying to help me? Or was this another trick?
The tall bonfire crackled. The flames danced up against a black sky.
There was no breeze at all. I could feel the heat of the fire on my face. Behind the wall of fire, the woods were silent. Even the crickets were quiet tonight.
We were all called from our cabins at ten o’clock. Counselors led us down the hills to t
he edge of the woods.
The fire had already been lit when we came down. The twigs and branches were already red-hot. We could see the blurred outlines of trees behind the fire.
Uncle Felix moved back and forth in front of the bonfire. It was a warm night, and the fire sent rays of heat over all of us. But he was dressed in a down vest and wool cap.
He scurried about, lining everyone up in a straight line. Girl campers to the left, boys to the right. We all stood facing the fire and the woods.
Some branches crackled and dropped, sending up bright yellow sparks. I took a deep breath. The fire smelled smoky and sharp. I love that smell.
But I couldn’t enjoy it tonight. I knew what was about to happen.
Mrs. Maaargh stepped in front of the fire. The woods seemed to grow darker. She was so wide, she blocked a lot of the light.
She raised a megaphone to her mouth. “Bat Run Night is one of my favorite parts of your Final Exam. Tonight is a true test of courage!” she boomed. “It’s so much fun for me to watch you all being attacked by hundreds of bats.”
She tossed back her head and laughed. Her laughter sounded like loud vomiting. “Just don’t let the bats chew off too much of your flesh!” she cried. “I need you to save it for me!”
Was she staring at me when she said that?
Yes!
“The bats of Winner Island have little prey. They are hungry. Hungry for blood.” She licked her enormous lips.
A cold shiver went down my back. In the flickering light, I spotted Sophie in the middle of the girls. She had her arms crossed in front of her and was hopping up and down. I couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared.
When she saw me, she smiled and flashed me a thumbs-up.
All I felt was heavy, shuddering dread. Call me weird. But I really don’t like the idea of dozens of hungry bats swooping out of the woods at me.
“Remember, dogs,” Mrs. Maaargh continued, shouting into the blaring megaphone, “when the bats fly at you, you must show courage. Do not move or flinch or try to duck away from them.”
Wind swirled around the tall bonfire. The twigs and branches snapped in the heat.
