Dwellers of the Night: The Complete Collection (68 page)

Kyle turns and gazes out to the west. The sun throbs above the horizon.

“We should go,” he says, putting a hand on Adrian’s shoulder.

Adrian writhes away. “No.”

“The sun will be setting soon.”

“I want to be here. Right here. With her.”

“I know,” Kyle says. “But they’ll be coming out soon.”

“I don’t care.” Adrian stares at the wooden cross, remembering Rachel’s beauty.

“Everyone’s lost someone,” Kyle says. “You’re not alone.”

∑Ω∑

“Sing a song, Kyle, sing a song! Sing a song, Kyle, sing a song! No, we won’t sit down till you sing a song, sing a song, Kyle, sing a song!”

The kids raised their voices louder and louder, standing from their chairs and even upon tables, clapping their hands and singing a beautiful chorus. The staff stood as well, and they began clapping their hands, joining in. The kitchen crew came out through the entrance and exit doors, standing quietly and observing, feeling slightly out-of-place. Kyle sat in his chair, grinning wildly, face flaming a brilliant red. He stood, and waved his hands back and forth as if he were conducting an orchestra, and with each sweep the crescendo grew louder and more intense. He stood upon a chair, beckoning them on; two of his co-workers, Amos and Kaleb, stood beside him on either side, singing loudly in his ears. For minutes this went on, and the walls of the dining hall shook and quivered, and finally Kyle raised his hands and asked for silence. The kids went still, and he spoke:

“If you will let me, I shall sing a song on guitar for our beloved program assistant. It is a song I myself wrote a few weeks ago. If you will let me return to the cabin and get my guitar, then I will happily sing a song for all of you—and especially for Elysa!” He looked over at the program assistant, who blushed, secretly hoping the kids would demand a song right then. However, Kyle’s idea sparked an interest in their hearts, and they gave him permission. He stepped down from the table as the kids filed to their tables.

“Desert!” the director shouted, and the kids let out an excited cheer. Kyle smiled at Elysa, who hung her head in mock shame. “This is going to be wonderful,” he teased.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she cooed sarcastically.

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He left the dining hall and began walking across the field, the sun beginning to set behind the line of pines in the distance. He whistled the tune sweetly to himself and felt the cool of the evening beginning to sweep over. He was excited, for in the morning, the parents would come and pick up their children after a week of camp, and he would be able to go and see his girlfriend Sarah. He hadn’t seen her in ages, and just to see her pretty face would awaken marvels for him. He worked at a Christian camp called JOSEPH BADGER MEADOWS, named-so after a famous Presbyterian missionary who had traveled throughout Ohio and Pennsylvania planting churches. Many wonderful stories were told about him, including how one night he was attacked by a bear and had to climb a tree and hide for nearly three days before the bear abandoned the prey. Bears hadn’t been seen in northeastern Ohio for nearly two decades, though some imagined they still roamed some of the woodlands. The camp was situated in Burghill, Ohio, on the border of Sharon, Pennsylvania; the town was comprised of farms and race tracks, a few hole-in-the-wall grocery shops lining Route 7, the main road that headed straight into Pennsylvania. On the weekends, Kyle would drive to the Yankee Lake Liquor Store and buy Soix City Root beers for the camp staff. Not this weekend, though: he was loading his Jeep Wrangler and heading straight to Sarah’s house three hours away. No time could be wasted. The camp housed a dining hall, ten cabins, two farmhouses for extra residents, and a barn with rock climbing and rappelling. The director had even built a High Ropes course for the high school students. The camp had countless camp-weeks throughout the year, and in the summer they had special camps for young kids, usually around the Middle School age. This camp—Night Owl—was for Middle School kids, and the drive for them to attend camp was that they got to stay up until 1:00

in the morning every night.

Kyle entered his cabin, found his cot, grabbed his guitar case, and made his way back to the dining hall. When evening came, the children anticipated a grand show. The kids jumped up and down when he entered through the main doors. He directed Elysa to sit in a chair beside the head table, and he sat upon the table with his Alvarez guitar held in his hands. He announced, “This song is dedicated to my good friend and failed love interest, Elysa Bucci.” Everyone on staff knew that it was a joke: Kyle had no desire to be with Elysa, and Elysa had no desire to be with him. It all started on July 4th when Elysa’s parents came down to camp to celebrate Independence Day with the staff; Kyle kept making jokes about wanting to date Bucci, with the point of making her feel awkward, and ever since then it was jokingly believed that Kyle had an intense love interest in Elysa, but she would not give him the time of day. He began playing the chords—E, Am, A, Cm, and F—and sang the lyrics, which he patterned after “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” as played by a 1990s grunge garage band from Seattle:

♪♫My Bucc, My Bucc, don't lie to me

Tell me, Do you truly want me?

We'll walk through the pines

With our hands Entwined,

And We'll skip the days away!

My Bucc, My Bucc, don't lie to me

Tell me, Where would you rather be?

On a beach, getting a tan,

With our toes in the sand,

Oh! Heaven's got nothing on us!

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A yellow house with a walk-around porch,

And hanging plants bathing in the sun.

We'll drink iced tea and watch the sun setting,

O'er the ice-capped mountains beyond.

And what else could we want, but to be in this place?

Wrapped warm in each other's arms?

There's a future for us, beyond this camp

Tell me, Don't you agree?

My Bucc, My Bucc, don't lie to me

Tell me, Will you be mine?

The wedding bells sound, in the chapel in the pines,

As we walk down that pine-strewn aisle! ♪♫

When he finished, he raised his hands and bowed. Elysa’s face burned bright red. The kids were roaring. Everyone laughed. The commotion died down. Kyle stepped down from the table and patted Elysa on the shoulder. “How’d you like it?” he asked.

She pretended to throw up, then, “Oh, it was something else.”

A little girl ran up to Elysa and said. “That was so romantic! I wish a guy would sing me a song like that!”

Kyle grinned. “One day, my little friend, one day.”

The director announced, “Night Games! Counselor Hunt!”

“Counselor Hunt” was one of the kids’ favorite games. The counselors and staff would hide within a certain bounds, and the kids would get in groups and try to find them. Night had fallen, and the area for the hunt included the woods around the cabins, the big field, the swimming pool, and then all the way through the great meadow bordering the pines—all of this had become submerged in darkness. The stars danced overhead; storms had come through earlier, but they had left around noon, sweeping out to the east, towards Boston. He hid in the meadow, pushing through several thorn bushes and crouching down among the big weeds. He had told the campers, “If you find me, prepare to bleed.” He had meant it: the thorns were everywhere, one-inch-long, and he hoped not to be discovered.

“Kyle!”

He turned and saw a figure standing beside him. “Nicole? What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to hide with you,” she said. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “I mean… Yeah. Take a seat.”

She sat down beside him. “Cool place to hide.”

“Yeah,” he said. He felt slightly awkward: he knew Nicole liked him. What would Sarah think of this?

A great horn blew at the dining hall, and they could hear kids running through the big field.

“Do you think they’ll find us?” Nicole asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.

They sat there for about fifteen minutes. No kids found them.

Nicole began scooting closer. He tried not to notice. He wished she would leave.

“Who are you texting?” she asked, looking at his phone.

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He flipped the cover down. “Sarah,” he said. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

Another fifteen minutes.

She became closer. She put a hand on his knee.

He stood. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He ran through the field, legs sliced open by thorns, and he finally emerged by the bathhouse by cabins nine and 10. He ducked inside and drew a sigh of relief. He remained in there until the horn blew: the games were over.

Several hours had passed. The kids slept quietly in the cabin. Kyle sat on the porch, holding his phone, thinking about seeing Sarah tomorrow. Nothing could be more exciting. Footsteps came towards him.

He turned and looked, and through the light bleeding from the porch lamp, he could see Kaleb.

“My C.I.T. is with my cabin,” he said. A C.I.T. was a counselor-in-training, doing whatever the counselor didn’t want to do—and a buffer zone for keeping the children under supervision when the counselor needed an escape.

“You’re in Cabin 3,” Kyle said. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I need some advice,” he said, sitting down. “Might you be able to grant it?”

“I’m not too good with advice,” he said, “but I’ll try.”

“Something’s not right with me and Courtney,” he said. “She isn’t answering my calls. She isn’t answering my texts. I don’t know what to think. I’m afraid… I’m afraid she may have found someone else, Man.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“A month,” he replied.

“A month? Wow. I didn’t have a clue.”

“It really bothers me. What if she has started dating someone else and just hasn’t told me?”

“You don’t want a girl like that,” Kyle said. “If she did that, then she’d be into ‘convenient dating.’ You don’t want any part of that.”

“I don’t know. I hope that’s not the case.” A sigh. “I really like her, Man.”

“I know. But you have to grow a pair of balls and be a man about these things.”

Kaleb looked confused. “Huh?”

“What I mean is this: you want a serious, long-term, committed relationship that involves trust and honesty. You don’t want anything to do with this high school dating crap. If that’s what Courtney’s into, then you don’t want anything to do with it. If she just wants someone to have fun with, then you don’t want to be a part of that. I warned you from the get-go that I wasn’t a big fan of Courtney. I wasn’t a big fan of any of your girlfriends, except Jennifer… And remember, she was the only one who didn’t hurt you. The others, well… Anyways, Anth, what I’m saying is that if you two are in different playing fields—if you’re more mature about these things than she is—you don’t want to have to lower yourself to a more immature level. If you’re fear is the case, then she’s not the kind of girl you want. Being hurt is inevitable. It would be wise to wish it to come sooner, or break up with
her
.”

“I don’t know if she’s like that, though. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

“Maybe. But how would you feel if that
were
the case?”

“Honestly? Devastated. Heartbroken. Betrayed. Back-stabbed.”

“Relationships are demons, Man. They’re demons.”

Snickering came from inside the cabin.

Kyle stood, opened the door. “Quiet, or no pool time tomorrow! Go to bed!”

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The cabin became deathly silent.

When he turned, Kaleb had stood. “I need to be getting back to my cabin.”

Kyle said, “I hope, for your sake, that everything works out for you. But I told you from the beginning that she’s bad news. You always pick the wounded girls. Sonja. Julie. Courtney. Wounded. And so you force yourself to get hurt.”

He was torn from the dream, in which he held Sarah tight against him and kissed her sweetly under an auburn moon. He rubbed his eyes and saw a figure standing over him. He propped himself up on his elbow, and in the wanton light coming from the cabin window he could see the little boy standing at his bedside, face wrapped in shadows.

“Johnny?” he croaked. “Johnny, go back to bed.”

The little boy didn’t move, only kept staring, and the boy asked, “Have you seen my report card?”

“What?” he asked. “Johnny…”

“Have you seen my report card?”

Kyle swung his legs out from under the bed and sat on the mattress. He reached out, took the boy by the shoulder, pulled him closer. Sometimes the boy had bad dreams, and Kyle knew that his father had abused him—perhaps over a less-than-adequate report card. He pulled the boy close to comfort him, and in the moonlight saw blood on the boy’s face: around his eyes, coming from his nose, dribbling from his ear, trailing along the corners of his lips. The boy’s face was ashen white, and Kyle immediately leapt from the bed, shouting for the C.I.T. to come and help. He gripped the boy close, told him everything would be okay, not to worry. His eyes darted about the cabin, searching. The C.I.T. sat on his bed, head in his hands. Kyle yelled at him, but the C.I.T. didn’t move. Kyle, dragging the boy by the arm, rushed over to the C.I.T. and grabbed him by the shoulder; the C.I.T.’s head fell back, and the eyes were filled with blood. Kyle fell against the wall, and the C.I.T. fell backwards onto the bed, legs kicking in the air as his body went into convulsions. Kyle felt his other arm shaking, and he turned and saw the boy going into a seizure; frightened, he pulled away, and the boy collapsed to the ground, blood spraying from his mouth as his body quaked and his head thumped against the wooden floor. Kyle ran throughout the cabin, trying to wake the others, but he found only convulsing bodies. Every boy had slipped into some sort of fever, had begun bleeding from every orifice on their faces, and Kyle spun around in the middle of the cabin, the world spinning, stomach churning, bile creeping up his throat. Every bunk was filled with a shaking body, and one of the bodies fell and hit the ground headfirst, lying still as blood formed in a pool underneath the head. Kyle ran over to the fallen boy and searched for a pulse, found nothing: only those blood-filled eyes staring at him in an empty gaze.