Chapter Two

CHAPTER 2

I'm lying in bed looking up at the crossbeams of my cabin ceiling. Why I'm awake, I have no idea. I glance at my phone. There are still thirty minutes left before my alarm goes off, but something has roused me from what I assume was a pretty deep sleep, judging by the drool on my pillowcase.

I sit up. The sun's just now cresting over a horizon I can't see, but the light is trickling through my window. I hear something—a splash in the lake directly across from my cabin. I'm out of bed and at the window in a blink.

A light layer of dew has laid itself across the ground during the night, and the dappled morning sunlight is making it sparkle. It should add to the faraway feel of this place, to a setting that, when we're not engaged in the game, should feel idyllic—but there is always the lake. It's the backdrop of this place, and no matter how hard I try, I can never quite force myself to think of it as anything other than foreboding. Upstate New York is filled with lakes, but this one makes my skin crawl every time I look at it.

The splash sounds again.

I huff. I know I have to check it out even though I don't want to. Part of my job is keeping everybody in camp terrified but generally safe, and that means making sure nobody is out there disobeying our very strict no-swimming rule.

On the porch, it's so humid I feel like I'm inhaling the mist from a boiling pot of water. Everything is damp and sticky and the insects love that. There is a never-ending parade of flies, gnats, and mosquitos that drives me nuts. I keep a can of Raid in my cabin for the times when the buzzing is too much to handle. Outside, a cloud of flies and mosquitoes is swarming the light bulb.

Nobody is supposed to be messing around in the lake. We have paddleboats and canoes, but they're just for looks. Their setup replicates the opening shot of The Curse of Camp Mirror Lake with the canoes bobbing in the water and the paddleboats nestled by the dock. It's perfect for the game. It makes the guests feel like everything is normal right before it all gets turned upside down.

The lake is flat calm this morning. Like a big sheet of black glass. I scan the area to see if maybe something has fallen in—a deer, a raccoon—but I don't see anything or anyone. Everything is still. I sigh and grab my phone, switch off the alarm. There's no sense in trying to get back to sleep.

I scroll through my emails, which haven't updated in a few hours due to the awful cell reception. The mini AC unit in my cabin is fighting for its life, so I switch it off and grab my shower kit and head over to the community stalls to clean up.

In the light of day, there's nothing to be afraid of. The shower building is a little run-down and the stalls are narrow, but the water's warm and I feel like a brand-new person after cleaning off the mess from the previous night's game.

I dress for the heat—shorts, T-shirt, sneakers—and as I make my way to the office cabin, the dew is already beginning to evaporate as the sun tilts through the towering pines. A layer of mist rises from the ground and billows around my ankles like a low-lying cloud.

Before I head to the main office, I do a walk-through of the camp to make sure everything is as it should be. I start at the eastern edge where the control center, located in the Craftsman Lodge, is situated. The outer door is locked, and I don't bother to check inside. There's never any issue in there, but outside, the generator is sitting like a relic from some bygone era. It broke last summer, and when I googled the make and model to see if I could fix it myself, it said it was built in 1990. I flip open the side panel. The fuel indicator reads full, and the little green light in the corner is steady, which means it's ready to kick on in case the main power fails. A good final girl always makes sure the generator, no matter how ancient, has fuel and is in good working order.

I cut through the wooded pathway between my cabin and the shower building and come upon Porter and Javier, one of our new hires, arguing in a small clearing.

Porter's got his hand pushed down on his hip. "Just because you're too scared to go over there and check don't mean it doesn't need to be done."

"You do it, then," Javier says. "You know the whole place like the back of your hand. Doesn't it make more sense for you to go check?"

Porter throws his hands up, then spots me walking toward them.

"Oh, good," he says, clapping his hands together. "Boss is here. Let her tell you whose job it is to check the perimeter fencing because news flash, sugafoot, it ain't me."

I approach Javier. "That would be your job. Is there a problem?"

Javier smiles, and his right eyebrow arches up. He's tall, dark hair and eyes, a scattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. He looks like an athlete, but I've seen him trip over damn near every exposed root or uneven pathway out here. I don't think he's coordinated enough to walk in a straight line, much less play sports.

"Aw, come on, Charity," he whines. "Porter is so much better at this. He knows every inch of this place, and besides, something might happen to me, and then we'd never get a chance to really know each other, you know?" He flashes me another smile. He's so obvious, it's actually a little funny.

"I'm a vegetarian," I say to him.

He looks at me, confused. "Huh?"

"She don't like meat," Porter says. "Strictly strawberries, like my man Harry Styles said."

Javier's brows push together. Me and Porter are both part of the alphabet mafia, so we get it, but poor Javier is clueless.

"I'm gay," I say. "Very, very gay. Save all that flirting and goofy grinning for somebody who wants it and who also isn't your direct supervisor."

Porter tilts his head to the side. "I, however, am strictly dickly and not your supervisor, so please feel free to try and seduce me. It probably still won't work because you're out here tryna hand your job duties off to somebody else, but I think you should give it a try anyway."

Javier looks like he might actually take Porter up on his offer, but I cut him off. "Javier, you gotta get on the perimeter check. It's important."

It still feels a little weird handing out tasks and staying on top of people's assigned jobs.

My previous two seasons, I always took on extra tasks—coordinated the game and set up reservations. I even worked to perfect our fake-blood recipes. At the start of this season, Mr. Lamont told me he was so impressed with my work ethic the previous summers that he was handing me the reins when it came to the day-to-day operations. He said I was responsible, self-sufficient, and trustworthy. That's mostly true. I'm all those things, but mostly because I don't have any other choices. Being the child of an irresponsible parent who doesn't really care what you're doing as long as it doesn't mess up her plans will do that to you.

Javier crosses his arms over his chest and huffs.

"Javi, it's literally in your job description," I say firmly. "And we all help out with it. You only have to do the check along the south side of the camp."

"Oh, okay," he says sarcastically. "Just the part of the fence that's right up against the darkest part of the woods. It's dark over there even in the daytime."

I glance toward the south side of the camp. He's not wrong, I guess. It's not that there are any less trees surrounding the other parts of camp; it's that the ones on the south side seem closer together. Like they're all crowding in on one another.

I sigh and turn back to Javier. "It's gotta get done, and it's on your to-do list, so please just get it done."

"Fine," Javier says. He looks around, then turns and walks toward the lake.

"Turn around," Porter says. "South is that way." He gestures toward the line of towering pine trees that crowd the space between the camp and the fencing that runs the entire length of the perimeter.

"I knew that," Javier says. He sucks in a big breath and lets it hiss out from between his teeth. "Okay. If I'm not in the office in twenty minutes, come find me because I'm lost."

Porter waves as Javier disappears into the tree line. As soon as he's out of sight, Porter turns to me. "Charity, we gotta stop bringing on these simple-ass mofos."

"Stop," I say, trying to hold in my laughter. "He's not that bad."

"He's pretty," Porter says, raising one perfectly arched brow and biting his bottom lip. "Very easy to look at, but looks aren't everything. You know what started our little back-and-forth?"

I shrug as we make our way toward the main lodge.

"He told me he was hoping to see a jackalope out here."

"A what?" I ask, confused. I'm familiar with most of the wildlife we get out here, but I've never heard of a jackalope.

Porter clasps the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "It's a rabbit with antlers . . . ?not a real thing." He sighs. "We need to run a perimeter check and make sure we're good to go for the biggest game of the summer, and this beautiful dummy is out here looking for mythological creatures."

"Maybe he was joking," I say.

Porter shakes his head. "Nah. He was dead serious, and that's why I'm concerned."

"Yikes," I say as we approach the arts-and-crafts lodge. "Did you tell him it's not real?"

Porter's fighting back a smile. "Yeah. He wasn't tryna hear it." He bends down and dusts some grass off the top of his shoe.

He's got on a brand-new pair of red sneakers with a reflective yellow swoosh on the side.

"Those are nice," I say. "Why are you wearing brand-new shoes out here? They're gonna get messed up so fast."

"Gotta keep it cute," he says. "Even if I do get sliced and diced later on. I told Kyle to make sure he doesn't get any fake blood on me while he's stabbing me."

"How's that gonna work?" I ask.

Porter slings his arm around my shoulders. "By the time I die, most of the guests are so scared, they don't even notice the fake blood."

Porter and I have become close friends since last season. It's nice having somebody I can rely on when so many of the staff seem to just come and go, but beyond that, it feels good to have somebody to talk to about other stuff. Porter's dad is kind of a dick, too, so we understand each other in a way that not everyone else does.

"Okay," I say. "I want to double-check the hatch in the arts-and-crafts lodge." I look over my checklist of things I need to do. "It was sticking last night."

Porter follows me inside the arts-and-crafts building. It used to be a regular cabin, but now we use it to make props and test new ideas. We call it the arts-and-crafts lodge because calling it the fake-blood-and-murder-weapons test area doesn't have the same ring to it. We go to the hatch in the floor near the center of the room. It looks like any other part of the wood flooring, but there's one plank that's thinner than the others. It's a hidden pull, and when I flip it up and open the hatch, a loud groan cuts through the air.

"See," I say. "It only made a little bit of noise when Kyle popped up on the guests who were hiding in here. Now it sounds like the brakes on a train. We gotta do something about that."

Porter makes a note on a little pad of paper he keeps in his pocket. I smile. Besides the fact that I like Porter as a person, he's probably the best hire we've ever made. He made a point to study the camp inside and out, especially the trails, and he knows them better than any of us, which is helpful when you're trying to organize a game that takes place over all the acreage the camp sits on.

Porter and I finish up our check of the hatch and head to the office by the main entrance. As we pass Mirror Lake, I catch a glimpse of Tasha standing on the dock, peering down into the water. She's holding the pool skimmer we use to fish dead animals out of the lake.

"Tasha!" I yell. "You good?"

She glances back and grins. "Yeah! Just thought I heard something. Thought it was a opossum or something that fell in."

"Is it?" I ask. "Can you tell?" I recall hearing the splash in the lake, and now I'm worried we're gonna have a bunch of dead forest animals bobbing in the murky water.

"Not really," she says. "It's hard to see, though. I think there's something down there, but the skimmer's too short. Poor thing, whatever it is." She shakes her head, then catches a glimpse of Porter. "I see you, Porter! Your little hoochie-daddy shorts are real cute! You looking for a boyfriend out in these woods?"

Porter sticks out his leg, flexes his chiseled thigh, and grins. "I was tryna get Javier, but I think he's still stuck on you," Porter calls back.

Tasha laughs. She and Javier have been flirting so much, it's actually a little annoying. Like, hook up or knock it off.

As I scan the rocky shore of Mirror Lake, I catch a glimpse of something reflecting the early-morning sun. I jog over and scoop it up. It's a key chain with two keys attached and a little chain that says, Town of Groton, Estd. 1817, in flaking white letters.

Porter joins me and peers over my shoulder. "More keys?"

I nod and shove them in my pocket.

Porter and I go into the main office to find a group of four people crowding the desk as a bewildered-looking Kyle flips through the reservation book while seated on a low stool.

"I just—what was your name again?" he asks, clearly flustered.

One girl with a long, dark braid down her back rolls her eyes and sticks out her neck. "Kennedy. K-E-N-N—"

"I know how to spell it," Kyle says. "Thanks."

I slide behind the desk and gently take the reservation book from him. He squeezes my shoulder and pushes the stool back from the counter. He starts to stand up, but I gently push him back down. He gives me a nod, and I turn my attention back to the woman on the other side of the desk.

"Reservation for Kennedy," I say, finding the name scrawled halfway down the page. "Four players. You'll be at the Crow's Nest, Cabin Two. You're all paid up. I can walk you to your daytime lodgings if you'd like to wait for me outside."

The girl grins. "Thank you." She shoots Kyle a smug little smile. "At least somebody around here knows what they're doing." She and her friends leave, and I turn to look at Kyle.

"Pencil in the brunette to die in the woodshed," I say. "That'll scare the shit out of her."

Kyle smiles, and when he's sure no one can see him, he stands up. It'd be hard to keep up the illusion that a six-foot-eight serial killer is out to get you when the six-foot-eight dude at the desk is fumbling with paperwork and reservations. People can put two and two together sometimes, and it ruins the fun.

I crane my neck to look up at him. His big brown eyes are distant. I gently squeeze his arm. "Where is Felix anyway? He's supposed to be running the desk. You're not even supposed to be out here right now."

"I know," Kyle says. "But I saw those people come up the drive, and they were just standing around. The door was locked. Felix didn't even come in at all."

I glance around. The curtains are still drawn, the trash can is full, and the sign on the door is still turned to closed. I rub my left temple. "Probably another no-show. We're having the worst luck this year."

Jordan and Heather, who play Victim #2 and Victim #3, had apparently already dipped out for the season, and now Felix is gone too. There are only three terror simulations left, including the big show on the final night of the season, and it's the worst time for staff members to be dropping like flies.

"These people are the only ones penciled in for tonight's game, so we'll need anybody who's still here to play the other roles," I say. "We need to at least make it seem like there are other guests besides them. Do we have enough people for that?"

Staff coverage is dependent on the number of guests. The more guests there are, the less staff members are needed to play "real" victims. When the guest groups are large, we don't have to play double roles or take on other duties. We can focus on keeping them on the right paths and making sure they run into all our special-effects setups. Usually, it's me and my team of seven running the show and it works really well. It's a game, but it's a well-orchestrated one that feels a little too real when things run smoothly. Tonight, it's a small group, and we're short-staffed by three. Porter, Tasha, and Javier will have to pull double duty, working the sound system as well as being runners. I make a note to cuss out Felix, Jordan, and Heather the next time I see them. Professionally, of course. Very professionally cuss them out.

Kyle thinks for a moment. "We can pull it off. It'll be tough but yeah. We should be able to handle it."

"Okay. Let me go take this group to their cabin, and then we can start setting up. But hey." I lean toward Kyle. "Can you go check Felix's cabin and confirm he's not there?"

"Yeah, sure," he says. "He's bunking with Jordan and Heather, right?"

I nod. They were friends before they came to work here, so they decided to set up in the big cabin on the western side of camp. "Just make sure they're not laid out in there or something." I take out my phone and send a text to the staff group chat asking Felix, Heather, and Jordan to at least let me know that they're definitely not coming back, but the text just sits there with a red exclamation point next to it, letting me know that it's not sent.

Kyle lumbers off, and I transfer the set of keys I found by the lake to a bucket in the cabinet behind the desk. I find all kinds of stuff on the lakeshore—keys, sunglasses, canteens. Most of it gets chucked in the trash, but I like to collect the keys. The jar under the counter is almost full after three summers.

I go outside to walk the group of players to their daytime lodgings. Most people like to check in, have a few drinks, and tour the actual cabins used in The Curse of Camp Mirror Lake before the game starts. Only staff actually stay through the entire night.

Leading the guests along the southern shore of Mirror Lake, past the boating and swim piers, we pass my cabin along the way, and I notice that I've left my porch light on, its thready light flickering. I sigh. The electricity better not act up. That's the last thing I need.

"You've all signed your waivers, but I'm required by law to state the terms out loud and get verbal agreements from all of you," I say. It's not true. But pretending like it's important adds another layer of fear to an already tense situation. "Camp Mirror Lake is a full-contact terror-simulation experience," I continue as we pass the other staff cabins. "Our staff are allowed to push you, shove you, scream at you, even restrain you."

"Wait," the brunette says, stopping in her tracks. "Restrain us? What does that even mean?"

I glance over my shoulder at her. "We can tie you up with rope or fabric restraints. No handcuffs and we can't cover your mouth or nose. We can blindfold you, though. So keep that in mind."

She doesn't ask any other questions as her friends laugh behind their hands.

A younger guy in a black T-shirt chuckles to himself. "This is so stupid. I don't know why I let y'all talk me into this."

"This camp was established to celebrate the 1983 cult horror classic The Curse of Camp Mirror Lake," I say, taking full offense. "They shot the movie on these very grounds, and we do our best to re-create the key events from the film."

"So if we've seen the movie, we should be all right?" one of the other guys asks. "We'll already know what's gonna happen?"

"No," I answer. "We change things up a little." We change things up a lot, actually. But it's always fun when the players think watching the movie will give them a leg up.

We approach the Crow's Nest lodging area, and I point out Cabin #2, a log structure with a green metal roof and a brick chimney.

"Meet your fellow players in the Western Lodge at eight to start the game." I hand the brunette the key to Cabin #2. "Hope you all survive the night." As I leave them to settle in, I make an executive decision. Tonight, there will be no survivors.

· · ·

The guests from Cabin #2, alongside Porter and Tasha posing as other real players, file into the Western Lodge a little before seven. I'm already there. I say hi to them, keeping my head down, making myself as small and invisible as possible. The wig helps. So does the makeup. The brunette doesn't even recognize that I'm the same girl who checked her in and took her to her cabin. Normally, Felix would do that, and I wouldn't meet the guests until we all get together in the main lodge. I'm still pissed about that, but I set it aside and focus on the task in front of me. I gently touch the back of my sweater, making sure the battery pack for my earpiece is concealed.

I tell the guests my name is Jade and that I'm so excited to be here at Camp Mirror Lake in a southern accent I borrow from my late grandmother. They latch on to my enthusiasm. I watch their eyes brighten, their mouths draw up. The excitement builds like water behind a dam. Everyone is buzzing around the big fireplace as I steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It's 7:59. There's a rustle of static across the line as my earpiece clicks on.

"It's go time," Kyle's voice says. "Remember, Charity says tonight is a no-survivors scenario. Everybody goes down." He laughs into the mic. "This is my favorite type of game."

Normally, we let a few guests slip through. We let them see the carnage, give them a few near-misses with Kyle, but ultimately somebody is left to accompany me to the front gates and claim their T-shirt at midnight. But not tonight.

The eight o'clock hour dawns. Staff Player #2, who is supposed to be Heather but is now being played by Javier, rushes in, limping slightly, covered in blood. He looks great, and I have to mask the flood of excitement I feel as the dam bursts and the rush of excitement overwhelms me. I always feel this way as the game commences, and the high is dizzying. My single complaint is that the fake blood he's drenched in is too opaque. I like it better when I can see through it just a little.

"Please!" Javier screams as he clings to the doorjamb, chest heaving. "Please help me! He—he's out there!"

"Who?" I ask. "What are you talking about?" I know my lines as well as I know my own name.

"A guy in a mask!" Javier bellows, real tears glinting in his eyes. "Help me!"

The brunette gasps as she clings to her friend, her eyes wide, her mouth halfway open. She's terrified. Only me and the remaining staff know that it's about to get a lot worse for her specifically. The rude guests are always the ones who end up crying or pissing their pants first.

Over the course of the next few hours, the guests move through a carefully curated series of experiences. I like to make sure they have a good view of Kyle in his mask, machete in hand, as he carves up Javier, Porter, and Tasha one by one. Of course we leave time for guests to "hide" or try to make their own plans for navigating the camp, but it's all a part of the game even if they don't realize it.

Halfway through the game, the guests end up separating, and Javier and Tasha have to herd them back to a common area so that we can move them toward the next gruesome display.

While they handle that, I find myself alone by the lake. I separate from the group early in the game so I can help with other special effects. I'm waiting for my cue, which, for tonight's game, is the audio of a girl screaming at the top of her lungs played over the tiny speakers hidden in the trees near the guest cabins. When it sounds, my job is to dump a bucket of fake blood mixed with a few pieces of raw chicken onto the path so the guests come across it.

As I wait in the shadow of a towering pine tree near Mirror Lake's shore, there's a splash in the water behind me. I turn to look, expecting to see one of the guests doing something they're not supposed to be doing, but there's no one.

I take a step toward the lake.

Just offshore, I spot something in the water. A shadowy human-size shape bobbing near the surface. Their head and shoulders move up and down, but I can't see their face.

"Hey!" I shout. "Get out of there! You can't be in the water!" I edge my way along the shore. Who the hell is out there? Who'd want to be? "Hey!" I shout again.

"Charity, go!" A voice sounds in my earpiece, and my heart jumps into my throat.

I scramble back to the path and spill the bucket of blood and raw chicken across the dirt. In the dark, it looks like somebody has met a grisly end right there, and as I hide in the shrubbery, gasps and terrified whispers erupt from the guests as they come across it.

As their voices fade, I turn back to the lake. It's silent now, and I'm worried. I rush to the shore, as close to the last location of the person as I can get.

I touch my earpiece. "Can I get a head count for the guests? Like, right now."

As I wait for a response, I peer into the dark water. I can still see . . . ?something. A dark shape just below the surface. I sprint to the lifeguard tower, which, again, is just for decoration but is accurate right down to the bright orange life preserver draped over the perch at the top.

I scramble up the rickety structure and yank the ring down and tuck it under my arm. I jump down and rush back to the lake, tossing the ring in right where the person went under the water.

"Charity." Javier's voice cuts through the static in my earpiece. "All the guests are accounted for. All four of them are here."

A wave of relief rushes over me, and I heave an exasperated sigh. I stare into the water. The dark shape is gone. The only movement is coming from the life preserver floating atop the water.