Phil and the Ghost of Camp Ch-Yo-Ca (16 page)

“I DON’T KNOW
who dropped that feather, but making up stories isn’t helping anything. Let’s keep looking for somebody around here.”

So you do. But the camp is empty. All you and John Luke find are remnants of the summer: a child-size bow and arrow left outside, a log that’s recently been painted bright colors, a towel abandoned on the grass, a journal.

You guys eventually give up and put your sleeping bags in cabin two
 
—one of the boys’ cabins
 
—and you make a quick stop in the bathroom, dropping your shaving kit on the sink. Then the two of you head outside and proceed to build a campfire. Soon the fire is blazing, its flames waving up to the heavens.

“So tell me about this Zodie Sims.” You can’t help being a little curious about a name like that.

“It’s just a ghost story that’s been told over the years. Haven’t you ever heard it?”

“I sure don’t remember it.”

“They say it’s true.”

“They say you can buy plots on the moon too.”

He laughs, then sticks another log in the fire. “There was once this Camp Ch-Yo-Ca counselor named Zodie Sims. Everybody loved him. He was the best counselor who’d ever worked here. No one could imagine the place without him.”

You nod and listen attentively to John Luke.

“One summer, a troubled kid came to camp. His name was Parker. Zodie took it on himself to help the kid out. He had Parker stay in his cabin, which was number six.”

“I thought there were only five boys’ cabins here.”

“That’s part of the story. Anyway, Parker kept getting into trouble. He’d sneak into the girls’ cabins. Wander off and disappear. Stay up really late. They were on the verge of sending him home. But Zodie told them not to
 
—that he’d really try harder to get through to the rebellious kid.

“One night, while everybody was asleep, a fire started in cabin six. Zodie got all the kids out of the cabin
 
—or so he thought.”

John Luke sticks a branch in the fire to move some of the red-hot logs around. The flames seem to go higher as he speaks again.

“With the cabin blazing in front of them, Zodie Sims
counts all the kids standing by him and realizes one is missing. He knows exactly who it is. So without even thinking, he darts back into the burning cabin.”

John Luke pauses and stares at you. Then, in a slow, sad tone, he says, “Zodie Sims is never seen again. Neither is Parker.”

“Well, that’s not the happiest story I’ve ever heard.”

“Ever since that fateful night, people have reported seeing Zodie Sims around the camp. Not haunting them, but looking for Parker. But the kid is nowhere to be found. The cycle never ends. Zodie keeps searching for Parker, trying to save him, but he never turns up.”

“So Zodie Sims is sorta like Casper the friendly ghost.”

“Yes,” John Luke says. “He’s not a malicious ghost.”

“You’ve had some good fellowship with him, have you?” You have to smile.

“Zodie Sims is real,” John Luke says in a serious voice that breaks into a laugh. “That’s what I try to tell everybody, anyway. The kids love the story. There’s a Zodie Sims Road around here. He shows up there all the time.”

“I think if I died, I’d give up trying to find out where this bratty little kid happened to be,” you say. “There’d be bigger fish to fry in the afterlife. I’d like to ask God a lot of questions.”

“Zodie Sims is stuck here, don’t you see? Since he can’t find resolution on what happened to Parker
 
—did he live or did he die?
 
—Zodie Sims can’t move on.”

“So what
did
happen to Parker?”

“That’s a good question. One that’s fun to talk and speculate about.”

“I bet Parker wasn’t even in the cabin.”

John Luke scratches his head. “A lot of kids who come to camp here think the same thing.”

The wind blows the fire sideways, and you both get a mouthful of smoke.

“Maybe we’ll see him tonight,” you say in an eerie voice.

When you finally decide to go back to the cabin for bed, you discover something strange. Not only strange but a bit unsettling.

All the mattresses from the bunk beds
 
—and there are about fifteen of them lined up in the cabin
 
—are piled on top of each other on one side of the room. The beds have been moved together to allow the mattresses to be stacked like this.

“What happened here?” you ask.

“I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t like this when we put our stuff in here.”

John Luke nods. He looks a bit pale.

You let out a sigh. Something’s definitely wrong.

Do you rearrange the furniture and get into your bunk beds?
Go here
.

Do you decide to sleep in another cabin?
Go here
.

“ARE YOU SCARED, JOHN LUKE?”
you ask your grandson as you enter the woods.

“No, sir.”

“Good. There’s no reason to be.”

The screaming seems to have stopped for now, but a howl rings out, and it’s not very far away from you.

“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” you say again. “Someone’s probably playing a
 
—”

There’s the howl again, interrupting you. It sounds closer.

Both of you stop.

“We should stay together, okay?” you remind him.

“Okay.”

You take a few more steps before you hear it again. The joker must be nearby
 
—unless this is actually a wolf.

“That was freaky,” John Luke says.

“It’s fine. Someone’s just messin’ with
 
—”

Then you hear something falling in the woods
 
—lots of things, like rain is pouring down ahead of you
 
—but sticks and branches are falling, not rain.

The menacing howl comes again, long and loud.

You turn to John Luke. “Go!”

The two of you run back to the cabins, jump in the Jeep, and take off.

Whatever that was back there in the woods can stay in the woods.

It’s one thing not to be fearful, to know God is in control, and to stand strong in moments of weakness, but it’s also important to know when to use your plain, God-given good sense.

And right now, it’s good sense to get out of here. To get
way
out of here.

Whatever you’re leaving behind is gonna stay there for the cops and the authorities and those who look into things like that.

You’re both feeling a little better since you’re almost home by this point.

Then you hear a sound pierce the silence of the car.

“Ah-ooooooo.”

THE END

Start over.

Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

YOU FIGURE YOU'LL CLEAN UP THE MESS
tomorrow morning. Now you're tired and simply want to get some rest. So you and John Luke grab your stuff and go to a cabin next door.

A few minutes later you're lying in your sleeping bag in the darkness. Ready for slumberland.

But maybe half an hour later, you find you still can't sleep. Something about this cabin isn't right. There's more light here, for one. The moon is full and round tonight, and the bluish glow of it streams through the cabin windows. It's lighting up John Luke's face in the darkness. While many girls across the country might love this sight, you don't find it particularly wonderful.

It's a little
too
bright.

You close your eyes for another moment but open them
when you hear John Luke mumbling something. You notice that his eyes are open and the blanket is pulled up beneath his chin even though it's plenty warm in here.

“I see dead people,” he whispers.

You move closer to see if he's trying to be funny. But he's just staring upward in some kind of weird, dreamlike trance.

“John Luke. Are you awake?”

He turns his head toward you, then lifts his hand. He balls his fingers up and begins to motion with his index finger.

“John Luke, stop this,” you demand.

You know he's messing with you now, so you shake him, but his eyes don't connect with yours. He really must be in a weird daze. He's been known to sleepwalk now and then
 
—at least he's staying in bed this time.

“John Luke, you have to wake up now.”

He turns on his side as if he's going to sleep. You nudge him again but can't wake him.

“This isn't funny.”

But you know he's not playing any game.

The moon still shines a spotlight on his bed. All you can do at this point is hope he wakes up normal in the morning. You settle back down in your sleeping bag.

At that moment John Luke pops up and looks at you. “Whatever you do,
don't
fall asleep.”

Then he does exactly what he's telling you not to do: lies down and goes back to sleep.

There's no way you can follow his lead, though. Instead you stay up for most of the night, staring at the ceiling and glancing around from time to time. But you don't hear or see anything.

No ghosts or goblins or things that go bump in the night.

The mystery of the ghost of Camp Ch-Yo-Ca may never be solved. Until you realize . . .

What if it's John Luke? What if he's scaring the campers by sleepwalking over here in the middle of his dreams?

But no. That can't be.

There's no way.

You hear laughter.

Then John Luke's head pops up again and turns to you. “We all go a little mad sometimes,” he says with a grin on his face.

His dimple glows in the moonlight.

The laughter comes again. It's loud. It's too much.

You jump out of bed and run outside. You've had enough.

Spending the night in John Luke's Jeep seems like the best plan. Tomorrow morning you can ask him what's going on.

If tomorrow morning ever comes . . .

THE NEVER-ENDING NIGHT

Start over.

Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”