Chapter Seven

CHAPTER 7

We spend the morning cleaning cabins—stripping the sheets and blankets and stuffing them into watertight storage bags, making sure all the windows are closed and locked. When I shut off the main breaker, the electricity to the whole place will go out, so that gets saved for last. Me and Bezi drag canoes out of the lake and stack them against the side of the boathouse. I can't help but think about what I saw by the lakeside, but the sooner we get everything done the sooner we can leave. Porter helps Kyle take out the trash; Tasha and Paige cover the firepit and sweep out the stripped-down cabins. Javier helps us bring all our personal belongings into the Western Lodge.

I'm helping Bezi sweep out the storage shed when Javier waltzes past with an armful of blankets and pillows.

"What about the big cabin?" he asks.

I tilt my head back and let a long breath hiss out from between my lips. "I completely forgot about that," I say.

"We gotta strip down another staff cabin?" Bezi asks.

"Jordan, Heather, and Felix were bunking together in one of the bigger cabins on the west side of camp. I completely forgot."

Bezi huffs. "We can probably knock it out if we head over there now."

I nod, and we make our way to the guest cabins that are situated down a steep slope behind the main office. The cabins in this part of camp sleep eight, and we only use them once or twice a season when big groups come to play the game.

Bezi and I cut through the thick grass and climb the steps of Cabin #6. The curtains in the front window are partway open, and I try to peer inside, but the screen is thick with dirt and dead bugs. I try the door, but it's locked.

"You have a key?" Bezi asks.

"Don't really need one," I say. "It's a twist lock." I turn the handle hard to the right and shoulder check the door. It pops open.

The smell knocks me back immediately. I quickly cover my nose and mouth with my hand, and Bezi gags.

"Oh my god, what is that smell?" she asks, her eyes watery.

I pull my shirt up over my nose and scan the room. Sitting on the wooden table in the center of the room is a plate of food. Chicken breast, broccoli, and rice. I try to remember when we had that meal. I remember the broccoli tasting like garbage so I dumped mine. It had to have been this past Thursday, which also happened to be the last time all the staff were on shift and accounted for. The food is rotted and crawling with gnats and flies. I stifle the urge to vomit as I grab a trash can and sweep the food—plate and all—into the can and set it outside the front door.

"They just left that here?" Bezi asks. "Rude."

Jordan and Heather had been no-shows on Friday, and Felix hadn't shown up for his shift either. The three of them had come to work at Mirror Lake together; Heather took her job seriously, but Jordan and Felix treated it like this was their own personal summer camp. They were chronically late and their acting skills were questionable, which pissed me off because the whole point of this place is to convince the guests that they're in real danger.

Besides the spoiled food and dirty dishes, they've left their dirty clothes in a basket by the window, the beds are unmade, and Jordan's phone is sitting on the bedside table. The screen is cracked, and when I tap the broken glass, it doesn't even light up.

"It's dead," I say.

"She just left her phone?" Bezi asks. "And they left their clothes?"

"They must have left in a rush, but I didn't even see them leave and they didn't say anything to me about going home early." None of them had a car, so somebody must have come up to get them.

"Some people are just inconsiderate," Bezi says as she yanks the covers off Felix's bed and balls them up.

I set Jordan's phone back down and take out my own. The staff group chat message to Jordan, Felix, and Heather is still unsent. I try sending it again, and this time it goes through.

By the time Bezi and I are done cleaning, it's almost three in the afternoon, and we head back to the Western Lodge, exhausted. When we get there, everyone else is already settled inside.

"How'd it go?" Kyle asks.

"Jordan, Heather, and Felix left a mess in their cabin," I say. "There was stuff everywhere and Jordan left her phone."

Porter sucks his teeth. "They hated it here that much?"

I shrug. "It's weird. There were dirty clothes in there and a plate of rotten food on the table."

Javier scrunches up his nose. "Nasty."

"Do you think we'll be able to get out of here by tomorrow?" Kyle asks.

"I think so," I say. "I'm over it. I just want to eat and curl up on the couch."

"I got hot dogs going," Kyle says. "I think we're out of chips, though."

Porter hops up and makes a beeline back to the staff lockers in the Western Lodge's back room. He emerges a few moments later with two party-size bags of chips. "Felix thought he was slick. I saw him hide these in his locker last week, and since he left us to pick up the slack, it's only fair we get to raid his stash."

Porter portions out the chips, and we all devour our food like we haven't eaten in days. Javier lies across his pile of blankets in front of the big fireplace, and me and Bezi get comfy on the couch. Kyle sits in the recliner and scarfs down at least four hot dogs while Paige and Tasha try to decide on what scary story Paige is going to tell when it gets dark. I may not be playing the final girl tonight, but at least I get to have some fun anyway.

"There's one about the guy who breaks in and the kid who's home alone hides in the dryer," Paige offers. "You can probably guess how that one turns out."

"I've heard that one and it's awful," Tasha says.

Kyle leans forward. "What about that one—what's it called?—thump, drag?"

"Thump, thump, drag," Paige corrects. "And that's more of an urban legend, but I could tell it if you want."

"Sounds boring," Javier says.

Paige rolls her eyes. "You got any suggestions?"

Javier shrugs like he couldn't care less what story she tells.

"You said you were gonna tell us something about the lake," I say. "Why don't you save the real scary stuff for later and tell us about the lake now."

Tasha tilts her head to the side. "Wait. What about the lake?"

Paige rubs her hands together and smiles. "Okay. So if you google this place, the only thing that really comes is all the stuff about the filming of The Curse of Camp Mirror Lake and about what you do here now with the terror simulation. But at the town archives, they have stuff on microfilm that's not even on the Internet."

"Microfilm?" Kyle asks.

"It's like old-school PowerPoint. Pictures of other pictures and documents all put together on a reel."

Kyle looks like his brain is about to implode, but he doesn't ask any more questions.

"And how is it not on the Internet?" Porter asks. "Everything is on the Internet."

"Not this," Paige says. "There was an actual summer camp here back in the day."

I glance at Paige, expecting her to laugh and tell me she's joking, but she doesn't.

"What?" she asks. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. "Paige, no. There's never been an actual camp out here. I think there was an RV park on the other side of the lake at some point but that's it."

"If there was a camp here, somebody would have known," says Tasha. "With the movie being filmed here, something like that would be public knowledge."

Paige shakes her head. "No. I saw pictures and everything. The stuff in the Groton archives hasn't been digitized at all. Ms. Grandey, the woman who organizes all the stuff there, is, like, a hundred years old. I go in there all the time for the school paper, so I know what they have, but this stuff about the summer camp—nobody would know unless they were specifically looking for it."

I sit back and try to take in what Paige is saying. My gaze drifts to the window, to the lake, where only a little while ago I found the remnants of a swing set. I'm not sure that that means a summer camp existed on these grounds, but I want to know more.

"What did you find?" I ask.

Paige takes out her phone and reads from some notes she took. "It wasn't much. Most of the mentions of it were in newspapers. I found one from 1960 and one from 1961. The first one was talking about a grand opening, but it's so blurry, I could hardly make it out. The second one was talking about the lake. There was a picture. Look."

She turns her phone toward me, and I stare at the faded contrasts in the overexposed picture. There's a body of water and lifeguard tower, but it's impossible to tell if it's actually Mirror Lake or not.

"It was private," Paige says. "The clipping made it sound like only rich folks could bring their kids up to the camp."

Porter crosses and uncrosses his legs like he can't get comfortable. He avoids my eyes as I shift my gaze to him.

"Porter?" I ask. "Something you want to share?"

He purses his lips and then sighs. "In my defense, I thought it was a prop left over from when they shot the movie, so I didn't bring it up."

A little ripple of unease pulses through me. "What are you talking about?"

Porter sighs and clasps his hands together in front of him. "I was doing a walk-through when I first got hired, just tryna get a good handle on the layout of the camp, and I found something out there behind the supply shed." He leans forward. "There was this mound of dirt. It looked out of place, so I went to check it out." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It was all overgrown, but on the back side there was wood sticking out. Like an upside-down canoe. The letters on the side said ‘Camp Mirror Lake.' "

I exhale in frustration. "You didn't think I should know about that?"

Porter shrugs. "Like I said, I thought it was a prop. Maybe it is. I don't know."

"Okay, well, so what?" Kyle asks. "Why do we care if it was a summer camp?"

He's right, I guess. I guess it doesn't matter, but it doesn't sit right with me. Did Mr. Lamont know? And if so, why hide it?

"What did that lady with the shotgun say?" Bezi suddenly asks. She thinks for a minute. "If we knew what she knows? Do you think this camp has something to do with what she was saying?"

"Wish we knew for sure that it even existed," Tasha says.

Paige huffs and slumps down in her seat. "It did."

"We could ask my grandma," Javier offers.

We all turn to look at him.

"Why?" Kyle asks.

"She was born in Groton," he says. "And she's nosy. She's always in everybody's business, especially the old ladies she plays cards with on Saturdays." Javier readjusts himself on the blankets. "My grandma's . . . ?protective. I'm her favorite grandkid. She has, like, twenty. So it's a big deal."

Kyle bats his eyes dramatically. "Oh, that's so cute. You're Grandma's favorite?"

"Shut up," Javier says. "The point is that there was no way she was gonna let me work at a horror-simulation camp. So I made some shit up so she wouldn't worry. Told her it was a summer camp. When I told her it was up here in the woods, she started acting weird."

"Weird?" Kyle asks. "What's that mean?"

"She was asking me not to go," Javier says. "Then she was telling me not to go. She said I wasn't allowed to take the job but bills gotta get paid and she's only getting her social security check. I couldn't really say no to it."

I give Javier a tight smile. He's always so busy acting like he's god's gift, it's easy to forget he's got a life outside of this place, problems at home just like everybody else.

"Call her," I say. "How many bars you got?"

"One," he says. "Signal is terrible, but I'll try."

He dials the number. The call drops and he tries again. It goes through the second time, and he puts the phone on speaker.

"Hello?" A voice crackles across the line.

"Grandma," Javier says. "I have a question for you."

She sighs. "You just call me and ask questions. Don't even say how are you?"

Javier grimaces. "Sorry. How are you?"

Tasha smiles, and even Kyle softens a little at the exchange.

"Terrible!" Javier's grandma says dramatically. "You're gone for so long. I don't like it. When are you coming home?"

"A couple more days," Javier says. "But I have a question."

"What is it?" she asks.

"I know you didn't really want me to come up to the camp for the summer."

"That's not a question," she grumbles.

"No, I know," he says quietly. "I wanted to ask if you know anything about a summer camp that was here at some point? Maybe it was a long time ago. We're not sure."

There is a long silence, and it is filled with a terrible sinking feeling. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and lean toward the phone.

"Why are you asking me this?" Javier's grandma asks. Her tone is dark, her breaths coming in long, slow draws over the static on the line.

Javier glances at me, and I silently urge him to press her about it.

"When I told you I was coming up here, you didn't want me to," says Javier. "Why? Does it have anything to do with the camp that was here before?"

There is another pause, and then her voice crackles through the phone again. "It was 1971, but yes. There was a camp."

I inhale sharply, and Paige gives me her best I-told-you-so glare.

"I have some friends here," Javier says. "We work together. Nobody knows about the camp that was here before. We don't understand why nobody told us."

"I don't want to talk about it," she says. His grandmother's tone sends a chill up my back. She sounds angry, but there's something else in her voice, something that makes me hold my breath as she prepares to answer.

"I want you to leave. I never should have let you go." She begins to mumble. It sounds almost like a prayer. "Leave. You have a ride? I'll come get you."

"You don't drive," Javier says. "You haven't driven a car since before I was born. You don't even have a license."

I suddenly feel like I'm intruding on a private conversation.

"I don't care," Javier's grandma says.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," Javier says. "We need the money. You can't handle the bills all by yourself and—"

"People died up there!" Javier's grandma says suddenly. "Six kids your age. Dead! In one night."

My heart somersaults in my chest. Where only a minute ago the room was filled with the awkwardness of listening to Javier have a disagreement with his grandmother, there's now a void that is slowly being filled by an overwhelming dread.

"What—what is she talking about?" I ask, still feeling like I can't move or breathe.

Tasha scoots in and puts her mouth close to the phone. "When? When was this?"

"The summer I worked there, six people got killed, but they never found—" Static chokes her words. "I—no one knew—survivor—leave now! Leave!" The call drops and the line goes silent.