Free 09 - Welcome to Camp Nightmare by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page A

envelope
into the bag.
    To my surprise, the mailbag was stuffed full with letters. As I pulled the
bag open and started to shove my letter inside, a bunch of letters fell out onto
the floor.
    I started to scoop them up when a letter caught my eye.
    It was one of mine. Addressed to my parents.
    One I had written yesterday.
    “Weird,” I muttered aloud.
    Bending over the bag, I reached in and pulled out a big handful of letters. I
sifted through them quickly. I found a letter Colin had written.
    I pulled out another pile.
    And my eyes fell upon two other letters I had written nearly a week ago when
I first arrived at camp.
    I stared at them, feeling a cold chill run down my back.
    All of our letters, all of the letters we had written since the first day of
camp, were here. In this mailbag.
    None of them had been mailed.
    We couldn’t call home.
    And we couldn’t write home.
    Frantically, my hands trembling, I began shoving the envelopes back into the
mailbag.
    What is going on here? I wondered. What is going on?

 
 
16
     
     
    By the time I got into the mess hall, Uncle Al was finishing the
evening announcements. I slid into my seat, hoping I hadn’t missed anything
important.
    I expected to see Jay and Colin across the table from me. But their places on
the bench were empty.
    That’s strange, I thought, still shaken from my discovery about the
mailbag. They should be back by now.
    I wanted to tell them about the mail. I wanted to share the news that our
parents weren’t getting any of the letters we wrote.
    And we weren’t getting any of theirs.
    The camp had to be keeping our mail from us, I suddenly realized.
    Colin and Jay—where are you?
    The fried chicken was greasy, and the mashed potatoes were lumpy and tasted
like paste. As I forced the food down, I kept turning to glance at the mess hall
door, expecting to see my two bunk mates.
    But they didn’t show up.
    A heavy feeling of dread formed in my stomach. Through the mess hall window,
I could see that it was already dark outside.
    Where could they be?
    A three-mile hike and back shouldn’t take this many hours.
    I pulled myself up and made my way to the counselors’ table in the corner.
Larry was having a loud argument about sports with two of the other counselors.
They were shouting and gesturing with their hands.
    Frank’s chair was empty.
    “Larry, did Frank get back?” I interrupted their discussion.
    Larry turned, a startled expression on his face. “Frank?” He motioned to the
empty chair at the table. “Guess not.”
    “He took Jay and Colin on the hike,” I said. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”
    Larry shrugged. “Beats me.” He returned to his argument, leaving me standing
there staring at Frank’s empty chair.
    After the trays had been cleared, we pushed the tables and benches against
the wall and had indoor relay races. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.
The shouts and cheers echoed off the high-raftered ceiling.
    I was too worried about Jay and Colin to enjoy the games.
    Maybe they decided to camp out overnight, I told myself.
    But I had seen them leave, and I knew they hadn’t taken any tents or sleeping
bags or other overnight supplies.
    So where were they?
    The games ended a little before lights-out. As I followed the crowd to the
door, Larry appeared beside me. “We’re leaving early tomorrow,” he said. “First
thing.”
    “Huh?” I didn’t understand what he meant.
    “The canoe trip. I’m the canoe counselor. I’ll be taking you guys,” he
explained, seeing my confusion.
    “Oh. Okay,” I replied without enthusiasm. I was so worried about Jay and
Colin, I’d nearly forgotten about the canoe trip.
    “Right after breakfast,” Larry said. “Wear a bathing suit. Bring a change of
clothes. Meet me at the waterfront.” He hurried back to help the other
counselors pull the tables into place.
    “After breakfast,” I muttered. I wondered if Jay and Colin were also coming
on the canoe trip. I had forgotten to ask Larry.
    I