LEITH AND THE LURKING EVIL
Chapter 2: Wild Eyes

WELCOME TO CAMP DAMBLE! proclaimed a big sign carved into the arch that curved over the gate we drove through as we entered the sprawling grounds. I wondered why they had gone to the trouble of putting up a gate when there was no fence. Simply to identify the place, I supposed. It wasn’t like, out here, we were going to need a fence. No gangs. No neighbours. Nobody at all.

Unless the creatures decided to pay us a visit.

I shrugged the thought away. The creatures were no more real than Mr Jekyll’s performance had been – just part of a hazing ritual, some sort of prank. I wondered what our parents would have thought if they’d known they’d put us in the hands of loonies. They probably would have preferred us to come along to the Grouper Islands and take our chances with the monsters of the deep.

“Wow! Football!” Broody seemed to have shrugged off his dark mood. His eager face was pressed up against the bus window.

“That’s right, son,” said Mr Jekyll breezily. “Football, basketball, swimming, canoeing - you name it. Camp Damble has something for everyone.”

“Look at that!” said Jane, pointing to the wide, winding river just visible through the trees. It looked muddy, deep and invitingly cold on such a warm day.

“Cool,” said Pippa, and I could tell from her faraway look that she was already there, taking a refreshing dip. Maybe with Ryan or Tim acting as lifeguard. But I only had eyes for the long, low building that I took to be the mess hall. And the circular campfire area in front of it with rows of benches all around. I was starving! But our first stop had nothing to do with food. We pulled up in front of a neat row of small white cabins.

“Ladies first,” called Mr Jekyll.

This time he unpacked the bags without throwing them, pulling a gun or making dumb remarks. Things were looking up.

“See you, Bugsy!”

We said goodbye to Pippa and Jane.

“Your stop, gentlemen,” said Jekyll, stopping the bus moments later.

I didn’t think that “gentlemen” very well described us, especially considering the way we all pushed each other out of the way, but I wasn’t about to stop and argue as we grabbed our bags and rushed inside to bag the best bunks.

Not that there was any need for competition. We seemed to have the cabin all to ourselves - six bunk beds against three walls, with a big wooden dresser and assorted cubby-holes in the fourth.

Broody and I each claimed a top bunk, while Ray was happy to take the bottom one under me. Well, maybe happy is not the word. “I might fall out if I get on top” was all he said as he started to unpack his duffel. It seemed to contain an endless number of books - anagrams, crosswords, IQ puzzles - all to do with, I later thought, both logic and deception. Not exactly a survival kit for the great outdoors. I wondered what he would do if he was bitten by a snake, or even saw one. Probably freak out, then try to make as many smaller words as possible out of its name. Adder. Add. Dad. Read. Der.

What an odd pair to be bunking with - the cowardly, bookish Ray and the mindlessly physical Broody. I wondered which one I was more like. And reluctantly decided Ray.

“Hey, Leaf - catch!” yelled Broody.

“My name’s Leith, not Leaf,” I started to tell him as I looked up to see a ball flying toward my face. I ducked just in time. The ball went crashing off the walls, bounced on the floor and hit Ray on the rebound.

“Hey!”

I chuckled. Broody was laughing fit to bust. Maybe I was more like him than the sulky, humourless Ray.

“I wonder what’s for ...” I started to say “lunch,” but never got the word out. Because as I glanced out the window, I saw something that stopped the breath in my throat. Perched just above the windowsill and staring straight at me was the wildest pair of eyes I’d ever seen!

I blinked.

And they were gone.

Had I imagined it? Neither Broody nor Ray seemed to have noticed. But since they were both preoccupied, that wasn’t too surprising.

Was somebody out there watching us?

I glanced down at the cover of my suspense novel, the only book I’d brought along. Strangers by Dean Koontz. That was what we were. Strangers. All of us. And the man at the window - if there really had been a man - was a stranger too. Maybe the strangest of all.

The door crashed open and my heart pounded as yet another stranger bounced into the room.

“Hi! I’m Ant! I’m the head counsellor for boys here at Camp Damble! I report directly to the owner and founder of this great facility, Dr Grieg. You’ll meet him tonight. He’s a genius! Electronics, robotics, all sorts of inventions - maybe one day he’ll cure disease, even death! He tells a good campfire yarn, too. No, wait - make that a great campfire yarn!”

Ant? He looked more like a cross between a toy action-movie figure and Mr Potato Head. Short, wide and muscular, he couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, but affected a manner of paternal wisdom mixed with boyish enthusiasm that didn’t come off. He wore white shoes, socks and shorts, and a white T-shirt, across which was stencilled in black letters, ANT. I thought about the sci-fi movie Them, in which giant ants took over the world. Ant seemed like the kind of guy who’d love to rule the world. If Dr Grieg would let him.

“Chop-chop - hurry and unpack. Then we’re off to the river to dip our oars. Let’s hear it for canoeing!”

“Um,” I said, half-raising my hand and feeling more than half foolish, “when’s lunch?”

“Right after canoeing, my friend.” He draped a casual arm around my shoulder as I jumped down off my bunk. When I looked up into his eyes, I saw that they were as cold as Mr Jekyll’s. “I’ll be back in ten - catch you then! Hey, I’m a poet.” Smiling and waving, he bounded out the door.

“What was that?” asked Ray in his usual monotone.

“As far as I can tell,” I said, “that was an Ant.”

“More like a roach,” drawled Ray. “Someone should step on him.”

“Big phoney,” said Broody, yanking open the top dresser drawer and claiming it as his.

“If I don’t get something to eat soon,” I said, “I’m going to have to eat Ray’s Odour Eaters---”

“Hey!” whined Ray, curling up into a ball on his bunk. He was making no attempt to finish unpacking before Ant came back. He didn’t seem to care. He looked downhearted.

“Did, um,” I began, feeling like a prize dork, “either of you notice anyone---I mean anything---at the window, just before Ant got here?”

“I did,” said Broody, turning around with a gleam in his eye. “Girls. And the best-looking one is your sister!”

“Hang on,” I said, feeling my face start to colour beneath my freckles, “you wait a second---”

“No time to spare! Chop-chop!” Ant was back. “Come, young gentlemen, let’s move.”

I kept an eye on Broody as we trekked down to the river. All the way there, he refused to meet my eye. He looked sly and guilty. I could tell he was thinking about Pippa. Well, I was thinking about her too, and no way was this going to happen. Let him chase after Jane or Mrs Jekyll or a million other girls. Not my Pip. Not in this lifetime.

Ant had corralled about twenty guys from the other cabins, and we made our way, buzzing with high-spirited chatter and a bit of pushing and shoving, toward the previously-glimpsed river.

Then, through the trees, I caught sight of something else, something that sent a chill down my spine.