Free Phil and the Ghost of Camp Ch-Yo-Ca by John Luke Robertson Page B

bathroom. There are many good things about getting older, but these nightly trips are not one of them.
    As you’re washing your hands, you hear something outside. A branch cracking. You don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but then you hear a few more cracks.
    May as well open the door and peer outside. For a moment you don’t see anything but darkness. But then something white and oval-shaped approaches you.
    More branches snap. The sound of footsteps can be heard. Running footsteps.
    The white thing gets closer and closer until you can finally tell what it is.
    It’s a white mask. With black eyes and a tiny nose and mouth.
    Someone’s wearing the white mask and running toward you.
    Close the door. Get back inside.
    When the masked stranger is five feet from the cabin, you slam the door and hear a loud bang. You crack the door open, revealing the figure sprawled on the ground.
    “Are you crazy?” you shout, stepping on the guy’s chest so he can’t move.
    You assume it’s a guy because the person is big and tall. He’s also wearing camo.
    Wait a minute.
    You loom over him, hoping you appear intimidating and not scared at all. Not at all.
    “Take off the mask,” you command. You let him stand, but he doesn’t remove the disguise. “I said take it off. Who are you?”
    He pulls off his creepy white Halloween mask to reveal . . . a dark, thick beard and long hair. He looks just like the guy you passed on the road earlier this evening.
    “Were you hitchhiking out there?”
    His eyes don’t move. He simply nods.
    “What do you think you’re doing? What’s going on with the creepy mask?”
    He just laughs.
    “You think this is funny? I got a kid inside here. The police wouldn’t think it’s too funny.”
    He keeps laughing. Then his smile turns grim.
    “They’re coming,” he whispers.
    “They’re coming? Who’s coming?”
    He turns, and suddenly you see them. Several   —no, make that a dozen figures emerging from the dark.
    Wait a minute. Where’d this fog come from?
    They’re all wearing masks like his.
    “Is this some kind of joke?” you ask.
    The man keeps laughing. And you decide enough’s enough. You shut the door and lock it behind you.
    You wake up John Luke and tell him to callWillie or the cops   —or anybody   —but he doesn’t have cell service.
    And you keep thinking, This is a joke. This is a joke. But it’s no joke at all.
    The hitchhiker’s voice reaches you from outside. “You should have picked me up.”

    Go here .

FAMILY RESEMBLANCE

    YOU CRAWL BACK INTO BED and pull the covers over your head. Wait till I tell John Luke about this nightmare in the morning.
    A crashing sound wakes you up. You open your eyes but see only darkness.
    Somebody’s gonna pay for that noise.
    You crawl out of bed, thinking again about your crazy nightmare. Alligators and beavers and John Luke and . . .
    There’s the crashing sound again.
    “It’s the middle of the night, and whoever’s making all that ruckus better zip it!” you shout out the window. Then you open the door, deciding a face-to-face confrontation might work best.
    There in your cabin entryway stands a terrifying creature   —a creature you thought existed only in your wildest dreams.
    You pinch yourself to make sure you’re not still sleeping. Ouch.
    The thing has a beaver tail and a long alligator snout with sharp teeth. It appears to be grinning.
    Yes. It’s an allibeaver.
    You notice that this particular allibeaver is wearing a bandanna.
    A stars-and-stripes bandanna.
    Willie’s bandanna.
    Oh no. John Luke must have gone home and infected his family. Now Willie’s here to get you. You wish you had an ax handy to cut off his tail and stop the madness.
    As he charges you, you think about how much Willie’s always resembled an allibeaver in some ways.
    THE END OF THE “TAIL”
    Start over.
    Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

TIME AFTER TIME

    “WE WERE ALREADY