Nightmare

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  “Climb up what?”

  “There were lots of trees on the slope, with honeysuckle vines growing wild through the branches, and in one place it made kind of a tunnel that some of the neighbor kids and I discovered. One at a time we’d climb up through the tunnel until we got to the top, and if we were real quiet and no one spotted us peeking out from under the leaves, we could spy on the people at the center who were swimming in the pool or sunbathing.”

  “There was a tall marble staircase next to the pool area,” Emily said.

  “Hey, that’s right. You’ve got a good memory. Sorry about all I said to you then about bugs and snakes.”

  “It’s okay. Just help me remember. What happened when I came down from the tunnel?”

  There was silence for a moment; then Jamie said, “I thought you’d brag about making it all the way to the top, but you didn’t say a word. You were kind of white and shaky. And then I said, ‘Don’t move. There’s a giant tree roach on your shoulder.’ Only there really wasn’t. I just wanted to see you jump.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t all you did. You screamed. Then you ran toward our house, screaming all the way and yelling something about the cockroach, I guess—that it was going to find you. Your mom got you calmed down, and I confessed to scaring you about the make-believe roach, and my mom made me apologize.”

  “Did I say anything about where I’d been or what I was doing … or what I’d seen?”

  “Not a word. You didn’t rat on me, if that’s what you’re asking.” Again Jamie laughed. “Is that why you called me after all these years? Do you want another apology?”

  “No,” Emily said. “I was just talking with friends about not remembering things, and I thought you could fill in some of the blanks.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did. Thanks.” Then Emily asked, “Did you go back to spy again?”

  “Funny you should ask that. No, we didn’t. We couldn’t. Maybe you owe us an apology. The people at the center must have seen or heard you. Someone put boards across that area and ended our spying.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said.

  “Hey, just kidding.”

  “Well, thanks, Jamie,” Emily said again. “Bye.”

  As she handed the phone back to Haley, Emily repeated to the others everything Jamie had said.

  “That means you never told anyone what you had seen,” Maxwell said. “But someone there saw you—even called after you to come back and warned they’d find you.”

  “And they did.” Taylor looked solemnly at Emily.

  “It might help if we knew which members of the staff here at camp were working at the center in Dallas eight years ago,” Maxwell said.

  “We know who some of them were,” Emily said.

  “That’s not enough. We have to know every name,” Maxwell said.

  “Can’t you just ask them?” Taylor suggested.

  “No,” Maxwell said. “We can’t say anything about this to anyone.”

  “Then how do we find out?” Taylor asked.

  “I think we’ll have to find a way to ask that won’t seem suspicious,” Emily answered. “We can’t just come right out and say, ‘Where were you eight years ago?’ ”

  “The staff tell each other everything about us,” Maxwell reminded her.

  “We can each try to think of an idea,” Emily said. She turned to Maxwell. “You’re a writer. What would a writer do to get information?”

  Maxwell tugged his cap downward with both hands as he said, “I’m not just a writer. I’m a playwright. I don’t interview people, and I don’t write biographies.”

  “Okay, okay,” Emily said. “But try to think about what we can do to get the information. Everybody think of something.”

  Haley slid off the bed and stood. “All right. We’ll all try to come up with something by tomorrow morning,” she said. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, we’d better face facts.”

  Slowly, she looked at each in turn. “This is the desperate moment Loki has been warning us about. It should be clear to everyone that Em needs protection from evil. It’s time to hold our purification rite.”

  CHAPTER 16

  I have decided upon the place where it will happen.

  I know the time and date.

  All I need now is to work out the details. That shouldn’t be difficult.

  CHAPTER 17

  Haley closed the blinds, making sure they were snug and no one could see inside. Then she arranged a semicircle by placing one of the desk chairs between the two beds. Maxwell was given the chair, while Emily and Taylor sat opposite each other on the edges of the twin beds.

  “We need an altar table,” Haley said. She glanced around the room for what she might find, gathered up a few books, and placed them in a stack on one of her suitcases. On top of the stack she centered a fat, stubby, yellowish candle that looked to Emily like nothing more than a glob of lard. Holding a book of matches in one hand and a small paper packet in the other, she stood facing Maxwell, completing the circle.

  “Give me your vial of potion,” she told Emily, who reached into her pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to Haley.

  “What’s that stuff? It looks like ink,” Taylor said.

  “It’s a special potion to protect Emily,” Haley answered. “She has to keep it on her person at all times—except now, during this purification rite,” she quickly added.

  “Who said so?”

  “A curandero.”

  “What’s a—”

  “A healer who can foresee the future,” Haley impatiently answered. “No more questions. Pay attention.”

  She closed her eyes, paused as if making sure the others would be silent, and intoned in a low voice, “The circle is a symbol of protection from harm. Our circle must not be broken.”

  “Where’d you get that awful-looking candle?” Taylor whispered. “It looks like it’s going to smell terrible.”

  Haley glared at Taylor. “I bought it from the curandero in Lampley when Emily and I were there. He blessed it himself. It has magical powers. And that’s all I’m going to say before we get back to the rite. From now on, don’t interrupt.”

  “Sorry,” Taylor mumbled.

  “I said, don’t interrupt!”

  Taylor opened her mouth as if she was going to answer, then seemed to think better of it and closed her lips together tightly.

  If Haley had tried this ceremony yesterday, Emily thought, she would have left the room in a hurry, wanting no part of any of Haley’s dramatics. But tonight, still frightened by the memories that had poured back into her mind, knowing that her nightmares had not been make-believe, Emily huddled with the others, glad they were nearby. After all that had happened, she was terrified of being alone.

  Haley began to chant in a singsong voice. The words were in Spanish, and Emily had studied French in school, not Spanish, but a few of the words were familiar: cuidado, peligro, muerte … caution, danger, death. Emily shivered, and Haley nodded at her approvingly.

  “You’re feeling the power. It’s starting to work,” Haley whispered. She opened the packet, sprinkling a small amount of granules around the top of the candle. Then she struck a match and lit the candle.

  As she turned out the light in the room, the incense granules caught, sending up both a swirl of smoke and an overpowering fragrance as sticky sweet as marshmallows.

  Emily began to cough, and Maxwell rubbed his eyes, trying to shift his chair back, away from the smoke.

  “Don’t move! Don’t you dare break the circle!” Haley ordered.

  Maxwell froze.

  Haley carefully opened Emily’s vial of potion and tipped a drop onto her right thumb. She pressed her thumb against Emily’s forehead. As she repeated this performance with Maxwell and Taylor, Emily could see the dark smudge Haley’s potion-wet thumb had left on the others and knew she’d have a similar blob on her own face.

  The damp spot on her forehead felt like
a crystal of ice burning into her skin. She wanted to rub it away but didn’t dare.

  She saw Taylor wince and Maxwell begin to reach up to rub away the stain, then apparently change his mind, so Emily realized she wasn’t the only one who felt the strange burning sensation. What had the curandero mixed with the liquid? Hot peppers? Nettles?

  Emily stared at the vial in disgust. There was no telling what the curandero had used to make this black, evil-looking stuff, which he could bottle and sell as some kind of magic to superstitious, unsuspecting customers like Haley … and her.

  Haley corked the vial, reached over, and tucked it back into Emily’s pocket. In spite of her misgivings, Emily didn’t protest. She surprised herself by feeling strangely comforted that the vial had been returned.

  Haley enfolded her thumb in her other hand and rubbed it, as if the stinging potion was bothering her, too. Then she pulled a small, creased sheet of paper from her shirt pocket, opened it, and began to read from it, holding it close to the candlelight. “ ‘May only that which is good and pure dwell within our bodies, so that which is good and pure in the world around us shall protect us from evil. May our healing goodness protect us from the arrows of destruction that fly against us. May our enemies be defeated and our victories be proclaimed. May the healing potion with which we have been anointed burn away all desires for wrongdoing within us, leaving only truth and beauty in their place. May we all—’ ”

  With a sudden sputter, the candle flickered and went out, leaving the room in darkness.

  While Haley fumbled for the light switch, Taylor called, “Hey, who did that?”

  “None of us,” Maxwell answered.

  Emily squinted in the sudden bright overhead light. A thin spiral of dark smoke rose from the hollow in the candle in which a few threads of the wick lay. “No one touched the candle,” she said. “I was watching it when it went out.”

  Haley flopped onto the floor in front of them and clapped her hands to her cheeks. Her face was pale, and her eyes showed her fear. “The candle wasn’t supposed to do that,” she said. “It was an omen. A bad omen.”

  Taylor reached over to pat her shoulder. “It was a nice ceremony, though, what there was of it,” she said.

  “We hadn’t finished it,” Haley complained. “We were just coming to the part where we banish all evil spirits.”

  “Can’t we light the candle again and keep going?” Taylor asked.

  Maxwell picked up the candle and poked his finger into the melted wax. “No,” he said. “There’s no more wick.”

  “Bummer,” Taylor said.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” Haley said. “The rite was supposed to protect Emily.”

  “And now it won’t?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I don’t believe in all this anyhow, Emily reminded herself. There was really no reason for her to feel upset, for her heart to beat a little faster, and for her hands to sweat. She wiped her hands down the sides of her shorts. “I suppose it will have to be up to us,” she said.

  Haley looked up at her. “Well, yes. You have your potion to protect you, and—”

  “I mean we’ll have to rely on ourselves and what we can find out and not depend on ceremonies and potions.” Emily knew that the smile she gave Taylor was a little shaky, but at least her voice was firm. “If I’m not alone, if I’m always with someone …” She took a deep breath and went on. “Taylor, Haley … could one of you hang out with me, like when I go to class or meals?”

  They both hurried to agree, and Maxwell chimed in. “One of us will be with you at all times,” he said. “At least until we figure out what is going on and have enough information to inform the police.”

  “Should we tell Dr. Isaacson everything I told you?” Emily asked. “I mean, he’s in charge. He should know what we think is taking place. Maybe he could even help us.”

  “Unless he’s the one who’s threatening you,” Maxwell said.

  Emily remembered Dr. Isaacson’s searching questions about if and how she had known Dr. Foxworth. “Then I guess we’ll keep everything to ourselves for a while,” she said.

  Maxwell peered out from under his cap. “Will you be okay until morning?”

  “Of course she will. I’ll be with her,” Haley said.

  A sharp rap on the door made Emily jump. Taylor let out a shriek.

  Haley inched the door open, then widened it as she saw Tammy Johnson, another camper, standing there. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, relief in her voice.

  “You promised you’d meet me in the lobby and go over my essay with me,” Tammy said.

  “Oh,” Haley said. “I forgot.”

  “Well, could you come now?”

  Emily couldn’t help seeing the worried expression on Tammy’s face. “Go ahead,” she told Haley.

  Haley glanced at Taylor and Maxwell. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Emily said.

  Tammy pointed at Maxwell. “How come he’s in your room? There’s a rule. Guys aren’t supposed to be in the girls’ rooms.”

  “He’s just leaving,” Emily said.

  As Haley slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind her, Maxwell said, “Maybe I should stay.”

  “No. Tammy was right. You shouldn’t break the rules. We don’t want you to get into trouble,” Emily said.

  “I’m not worried about getting into trouble. I may have mentioned that a playwright grows and learns his craft through life’s varied experiences.”

  “Good night, Maxwell,” Emily said firmly.

  She watched Maxwell leave, then summoned all her courage and said to Taylor, “You don’t have to stay just because Haley took off.”

  “It’s okay,” Taylor said. “I’ll get my notebook and be right back. I want to work on my English assignment.” As she stepped into the hall, she said, “I’ll be back in two minutes.” She quietly shut the door.

  Emily opened her notebook and found a pencil that didn’t need sharpening. Next she returned the two chairs to their places by the desks. She wondered where Taylor had gone. She’d said she would be right back.

  Pulling one of the chairs out, Emily sat on it, but her back was to the door, and it made her feel creepy, so she moved to sit on the edge of the bed again. I’m hiding, she thought. Ever since Dr. Foxworth’s murder, I’ve been hiding. The realization didn’t surprise her. She guessed that she must always have known that her refusal to become the center of attention was not because she felt she couldn’t compete with her older sisters’ achievements. That was a separate problem with which she’d have to deal. But the hiding, even behind her mass of curly hair, was because she had been terribly afraid that whoever had threatened her really would find her.

  For a moment she thought she heard footsteps in the hall … someone breathing … listening … the doorknob turning. What was keeping Taylor?

  When at last a soft knock came, Emily stiffened. “Come on in,” she tried to call to Taylor, but her voice came out in a rough croak, and she had to start over.

  The door opened, but the person standing there wasn’t Taylor. It was Mrs. Comstock.

  “Emily, I hope you don’t mind a quick visit,” Mrs. Comstock said. “I noticed your roommate in the dorm lobby studying with Tammy Johnson. I knew you’d be alone for a little while and we could talk. May I come in?”

  “Um—sure,” Emily said. She stood, tense, scared, and ready to run as Mrs. Comstock stepped into the room and shut the door, leaning against it.

  Run? There was no way she could escape. Mrs. Comstock was blocking the only exit.

  Emily could hear her heart beating in her ears, and she felt her palms grow sticky with sweat. Probably no one had seen Mrs. Comstock enter the room, and she’d be sure that no one would see her leave. If something happened to Emily, there would be no witnesses. “What do you want to talk about?” Emily managed to ask.

  “First of all, I want to make sure that you’re feeling well.” Mrs. Comstock took a step clos
er to Emily. “No more dizziness? No more feeling faint?”

  Emily shook her head and repeated her excuse. “Mrs. Jimenez said I was just hungry.”

  Mrs. Comstock smiled. “Hungry … or stressed? I’m more inclined to think it was the latter.”

  Emily took a step back. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re in an unfamiliar place, away from the protection of your family.”

  Protection? Emily flinched. Why had she used that word?

  Mrs. Comstock had taken another step toward Emily, but she stopped and silently studied Emily’s face. “If something here at Camp Excel has disturbed you, perhaps it would help if you’d confide in one of the staff,” she began. “You can talk to me, Emily. I’m your friend. I want to—”

  The door burst open, and Taylor flew into the room, blue-black smudges outlining her eyes. Emily gave a cry of relief at seeing her, but Mrs. Comstock stumbled back, trying to get out of the way.

  “I’m sorry I took so long,” Taylor said in a rush. She stopped as she saw Mrs. Comstock and looked at her inquisitively.

  “Hello, Taylor,” Mrs. Comstock said.

  “Hi,” Taylor said. “I didn’t know you were here. I thought the teachers—”

  “Slept in their classrooms?” Mrs. Comstock finished the sentence and laughed.

  Taylor looked indignant. “That’s not what I was going to say,” she answered.

  Mrs. Comstock stepped around her to reach the door, then paused and looked at Emily. “Tomorrow afternoon is our field trip to the Longhorn Cavern,” she said. “I want to make certain you feel well enough to take the walk through the cave. It takes at least an hour and a half.”

  “I feel fine. I can do it,” Emily told her.

  Mrs. Comstock smiled. “Good,” she said. “The cavern is fascinating. I’d hate to have you miss it.”

  The moment she left, Taylor slammed her notebook onto Haley’s desk and said, “I wasn’t going to say that teachers sleep in their classrooms. Does she think I’m in first grade?”

  Emily didn’t have a chance to answer before Taylor went on. “And I hate her dumb idea about making us go down into a big hole in the ground. What was she doing prowling around the dorm anyhow? The teachers were all supposed to be at something called an ‘end-of-day wrap-up.’ I saw the note on the bulletin board over in the main building.”