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stegrossaurus · 11 months

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Prisoner Camp

Coach Waller steps up with her back straight and her eyes hard. “Mr. Winneck, this has gone on long enough! It’s time for you to grow up and stop—”

WHAM!!!

She got further than I thought she would. She probably thought Joel needed a bit of tough love. It was a stupid and final mistake for her, but to be honest, I doubt he would have let her live anyway. She hadn’t been the nicest person at Camp Nightshade and she’d given Joel plenty of reason to dislike her.

“I do not kiss boo-boos, hold hands, or dry tears!” Coach Waller shouted at the group of waiting kids. “I will be pushing you to your limits and showing you what you’re made of. For some of you, that won’t be anything impressive.” She leveled a sneer directly at Joel Winneck, who lip quivered slightly. “But that’s just life! Now get moving!”

I’d been to Camp Nightshade last year, so I knew not to take her speech too seriously. Coach Waller made it sound like we’d be wrestling bears, but we’d be jogging, hiking, rowing boats, and other camp stuff. She just liked to sound tough. And the best way to do that, I think we all know, is to find someone who is decidedly untough and remind them constantly. So during our first jog of the summer, she zeroed in on Joel Winneck, wheezily bringing up the rear. He was a return camper, too, and made a pretty good victim the first time around. Good enough to keep Waller off of me, at least. This year was more of the same. More teasing and taunting and generally being a bully as he struggled to keep up with the others. If Mr. Lair, our head counselor, had any problem with this as he supervised the activities, his permanently sour face gave no sign.

Most of us had no room to talk about that, of course. Like I said, Joel was a pretty good victim and plenty of us had availed ourselves before.

And now, here we all are. Karma, I guess.

The microphone regrows from the dirt in front of Joel and the line shuffles forward. A girl, Sarah something, trembles forward. She mumbles out a flimsy apology for laughing at Percy’s prank. She never would have done it if she’d known he’d take it too seriously. Big mistake. No one likes being told that they’re taking their pain “too seriously”.

CRNNCH!!!

Sarah something is flattened into Sarah nothing. Barney, Luna, and Jerry all try the same tactic with varying amounts of tears, kneeling, and insistence that they didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. And they all have the same result. Luna gets almost a minute and a half before Joel kills her; maybe he has a thing for her. Daganyah Levi seems to have a similar notion; I can see her frantically adjusting her neckline from my place in line.

Daganyah wasn’t the prettiest or most popular in school or at camp, which is why her part in Percy’s prank worked. She wasn’t so far out of Joel’s league that he felt suspicious. Still, she was pretty and popular enough to be nasty to anyone who wasn’t. So when Percy invited her to our cabin to talk about his plan, she had no issue participating.

“Just make sure the little twerp’s out of his cabin for about 10 minutes,” Percy said after the plan had been finalized. “That should be enough time for you two to get something from Lair’s office.” He nodded to Sidney and Cindy. “Blaine, do you have an idea for an idea for a distraction?”

Blaine didn’t take his eyes off his Zippo lighter when he answered. “I’ve got something in mind. It should keep everyone occupied for a while.”

Everyone knew Blaine was a lunatic and I dreaded whatever he considered to be a distraction. And honestly, I didn’t know why Percy was so determined to get revenge. Joel had tattled on Percy at school last year for something or another, but nothing had come of it. No detention or suspension or anything; just like at Camp Nightshade, no one cared enough to punish people who might actually deserve it.

But no one asked my opinion and I didn’t offer one. I didn’t ask to help with the plan or threaten to tell Mr. Lair or laugh along with the others. I minded my own business and stayed out of everything. That last bit was something Percy and I had in common. He was smart enough to get a pyromaniac, a pair of kleptos, and a prissy mean girl to do his dirty work. He barely even offered suggestions, not directly anyway. About 85% of the plan was thought up by someone else and his hands were as clean as possible.

Didn’t save him. Percy was Joel’s first victim before he lined us all up to beg for mercy. Sidney had been next when he jumped the line to say that the prank had been Percy’s idea and Cindy had followed him shortly after, throwing rocks at Joel demanding that he spit her brother up. Now Daganyah steps up to the plate.

“Joel, it’s me Daganyah. Do you remember?” Rough start; that patronizing tone got two counselors squished. “I know what I did was really, really naughty, but I only did it because I like–”

SSHHLUURPP!!!

A pink tongue that could comfortably fit a minivan emerges from one of the many skulls and slurps Daganyah up. Guess he likes her, too.

More people step up to the massive beast that used to be Joel Winneck and plead their cases into the microphone. The PA system broadcasts their futile attempts and the awful crunches and slurps that come after.

It’s been about 15 minutes since Percy had died and this whole thing had started. Well over thirty people are dead and one girl, about 9 years old, cowers in the safety of the mess hall. Her name is Hannah and if I recall correctly, she hadn’t been at the bonfire during Joel’s final humiliation. She’d told Joel as much and when a large warty arm emerged from one of the skulls’ eyehole, it formed a pointed finger instead of a fist. Hannah ran for the mess hall when she’d realized that she was safe. The next victim had made the same plea and was pounded into the dirt. Either, Joel didn’t believe her or he hated her regardless.

Blaine steps up as the mic regrows and doesn’t get one word out before Joel kicks him into a bloody trench right next to Coach Waller’s. I’m not surprised.

I wasn’t too surprised when the bonfire surged out of control. Blaine must have put something flammable in the woodpile or on the nearby grass. He’d promised a distraction and he provided. Mr. Lair and a few counselors tried to beat back the flames while shooing back the campers. Blaine made no effort to hide his glee and I doubted anyone was watching him closely enough to notice.

I went with the crowd towards the camp quad before laughter drew our attention away. Campers and at least a few adults ventured to the southern edge of the camp, far enough from the bonfire and the cabins to function as a private getaway for campers. I should have resisted the pull of the crowd and gone back to my cabin. But I didn’t.

Joel was there, shirtless, gagged with tape, and tied to a tree. Daganyah and a beefy guy I was certain was her boyfriend flanked him, laughing and encouraging others to join in.

“Can you believe he actually thought he had a shot?” Daganyah shrieked with delight. Her boyfriend pinched Joel’s flabby, exposed gut, laughing uproariously, but Joel didn’t squirm or try to call for help. He just stared ahead, with tears streaming down his face. “And all the things he said? He actually told me he’d…”

I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I didn’t want to know any of this. I headed back to the camp, passing Percy cursing under his breath. A distraction where everyone knows Joel wasn’t sneaking into Mr. Lair’s cabin kind of defeats the purpose of the plan. The roaring inferno, still growing and spreading in our direction, was probably a problem, too.

“It’s getting bigger! Get to the other side of camp!” someone shouted from the bonfire’s direction.

We all ran away from the heat as the flames got closer. That got Joel struggling, but no one moved to untie him. I’m not proud to admit that I didn’t, either. I looked at him fighting to loosen his ropes, told myself that I didn’t have a knife and wouldn’t be able to help him, then I ran.

He’d survived, of course, and so did the camp, but I’m sure we all deeply wish they hadn’t.

But I need to focus. I block out the screams, whimpers, crunches, and memories and try to plan out what I’m going to say when it’s my turn. Begging just barely slows him down and reasoning seems to be a mixed bag. Threats, bribes, and seductions are definitely off the table. An apology for not helping and a reminder that I hadn’t bullied him might work. What about commonality? If I tell him that I was bullied too, would that encourage him to take pity on me? Or would it come off as patronizing?

It might be my only option. Every death closes off another choice I could make to save my life.

“I was always rooting for you.” CRRNNCHH!!!

“You would have done the same.” WHAM!!!

“I have a family.” SSHHRLUUPP!!!

Counselor Wayne apologized for not doing nothing to stop the bullying and died, but I try to see it objectively. Wayne had been there when Joel was tied to the tree and made no move to help. As an adult, he could and should have, but didn’t. I’m the same age Joel is so I have a reasonable excuse. If Joel’s feeling reasonable, of course.

“I know what it’s like to be picked on,” an older, fatter camper named Troy starts. He’s telling the truth; lots of boys in the showers had unkind opinions to share about his body. “But this won’t help. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

That’s it from Troy. No apology or begging. I watch with laser focus; this is what I’ve been waiting for. After about a minute, an arm oozes out of one of the massive skulls that make up Joel’s new body. Troy flinches backwards, but the hand at the end of the arm points to the mess hall. A smattering of gasps and even cheers rise up from the line as Troy bolts for the hall. It worked! And if it worked for him, maybe it can work for me.

Another boy rushes to take Troy’s place. “I was picked on, too, back home. That’s why I laughed, but I know–” WHAM!!!

He was lying. And he admitted fault. That’s why he died. I won’t lie, I’ll just leave out the parts where I knew about the prank and didn’t save him from the fire. He doesn’t need to know those parts. I’ll be fine. I have a plan. I’ll be fine.

“Mr. Winneck!” Mr. Lair’s voice, unshaken and commanding, booms through the speakers. “I know what’s happening to you and I know how to make it stop! You have my amulet, correct?”

Murmurs and whispers rumble through the line. Was this amulet what the twins had stolen from his cabin? Joel’s body shifted and a massive leg swept out for a kick, but in a heartbeat, an arm jetted from an eye socket and pinned the leg with a ground shaking thump. Joel howled in pain as he fought the rogue limb. Did he not want to do any of this? Is that why he hesitated some times?

“Let me explain,” Mr. Lair says.

“Something very important was taken from my cabin recently,” Mr. Lair said to the assembled campers and counselors. He’d gathered us all in the quad and seemed in a worse mood than normal. “I won’t explain what it is and I won’t ask who took it. If the thief gives back what they’ve stolen by sundown, I’ll forget the whole thing. If not, then camp is over for everyone!”

Was that meant as a threat? I wanted camp to be over. There was a fire two nights ago and I haven’t seen Joel since. I heard Percy laughing about how he’d run off into the woods, but that was the only confirmation I had that he’d survived the fire. Was he still alive? Was anyone looking for him? Mr. Lair had said at the beginning of the summer that he wasn’t interested in coddling or protecting the campers from their own actions, but it seemed like someone should’ve cared that Joel was gone.

“Hey, look! Joel’s back!” a camper shouted. All of us, including Mr. Lair, followed her finger to the edge of the camp where a shambling figure emerged from the trees. “Is he okay? He looks kinda…”

Swollen and lumpy were the words I would have used. Even from a distance, Joel’s shirt was visibly straining against football sized lumps in his shoulders and torso. He held a duffle bag limply in his hand, so he must’ve packed before running off.

“I’ll check on him!” Percy shouted, sprinting to Joel before the counselors could stop him.

I couldn’t hear what Percy said. Maybe a threat to keep quiet and give back the stolen thing that was snuck into his bag? But whatever it was, Joel didn’t like it.

A large hand sprung out of some place other than Joel’s shoulder and squeezed Percy with a wet crunch and the bully fell motionless to the dirt. His body ballooned into a tarry black blob, scaring away the counselors running towards him. With a scream that multiplied and lanced to my bones, human skulls, deformed, cracked, and the size of a woodshed at least, emerged from the mass.

We ran for the forest, not looking back as we heard thumps and dragging sounds that meant the thing was moving; not stopping as the sky started to blacken and the treeline started to blur. But our running was a waste. By the time we made it to the edge of the forest, the world beyond the camp was a solid wall of green, black, and brown blurs. It was like a canvas of runny paints and there was no gap to squeeze through.

“Line up.” A horrible, wheezing parody of a human voice echoed through the camp. The thing that used to be Joel had dragged himself to the center of the quad. “Line up now.”

No one moved at first and one of the skulls on Joel’s body opened its jaws. A blob of green flame belched from the bony mouth and soared to the far side of camp, torching a cabin. We understood and began forming a line to the awful thing, everyone trying their best to be last. Except for Sidney; he ran forward, screaming that Percy had initiated the prank. Once he got close enough, a hand wormed from one of Joel’s many eye sockets and flattened him. We all started to run again, but another cabin was incinerated, stopping us in our tracks.

“Line up.”

“The amulet you have was designed to draw strength from hatred,” Mr. Lair says, calmly and academically as if discussing a math problem. Props to him for not accusing Joel of stealing it, that would have been an automatic failure. “I had actually taken this awful job to build up enough hatred to use it, but you beat me to it. In a matter of days, no less.”

More murmuring and whispers. What had Lair been planning to do with the amulet? What would he do if he got it back? Joel continued restraining his leg and listening intently. I don’t care what Lair wants with the amulet as long as he gets it away from Joel.

“I know it’s forcing you to do this and I know it’s painful,” Lair continues. “But I also know how to turn it off. I can help you. All you need to do is–”

A spurt of green napalm from one of the mouths cuts him off. His agonized screams mix with Joel’s and our own, as the best chance of ending this melts away.

Joel wails and cries tarry tears for a few minutes before he’s ready to continue. None of us even think to run in the meantime. It was the offer of help that did it, I think. Mr. Lair should have been helping him all along but he was just interested in the amulet. The trial continues, but is there even a point? If Joel has any amount of hatred for you, nothing you say and nothing he actually wants will stop him from killing you.

There are about ten people ahead of me and that number’s shrinking fast. A female counselor claims she talked to Lair on Joel’s behalf and is spared. A boy with Down Syndrome cries and says he doesn’t understand what’s going on. Joel lets the counselor take him to the mess hall. Those are the only survivors.

Now the boy in front of me steps up, wipes his tears, and starts.

“You’re a monster,” he rasps into the mic. I recognize him as Daganyah’s boyfriend and get ready for my turn in a few seconds. “Daganyah was a bitch and so am I and so are the rest of us, but you’re a flat out murderer! Maybe we all deserve to die, but so do you! And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life!”

I can’t believe he got this far. Is Joel actually considering what he said? A pained growl and a large fist rise from the blob of mucus-smothered skulls, but instead of swinging straight down, it curves. With a screech, the fist completely shatters one of the skulls. Another punch and another skull is gone, with a few more being fractured. The boy tries to flee, but the next punch is for him.

My legs are stiff and heavy. I wait a second to see if Joel’s going to continue attacking himself, but he doesn’t. It’s far too late to change my strategy, but I can’t ignore what just happened.

“Joel,” I start, not trying to keep the squeak out of my voice. The more pitiful I sound, the better. “Before you moved here, Percy and the others picked on me a lot. And no one ever helped. I know I should have tried to help you, but I was just relieved that they left me alone.” I’m not dead, so I keep going. “I’m sorry. But I never hurt you and if you keep hurting us, then you’re not the victim anymore. You’ll be worse than Percy ever was.”

He already is worse, but that’s what I’m counting on. If I can get Joel to hate himself more than he hates me, he’ll hurt himself. Maybe even kill himself. This whole nightmare can be over.

He raises a fist and a mouth fills with green fire. Does he remember? When I saw those tear-soaked eyes in the light of the out-of-control bonfire, did they see me watching? Is that fist for me? Will he burn off his own heads? Will he point to the mess hall? Should I run if he strikes? How many hits will it take to kill himself? What will burning alive feel like?

Joel pauses for a second. Then he moves.

#short story #summer camp #death (a lot of it)#gore #demon #magic #karma #bullies

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