Chapter 6 – The Late Grates
The hike back from the staff parking lot would only take Lane and Apollena about fifteen minutes if they ran at a full speed. Easier said than done for Luna at present.
It turned out that the left fork in the road at the driveway to Trillion Pines Camp did lead to private residences: the guest speakers’ cabins and the on-site Abidalli Family cabin. Off to the right of those three single-family cabins was an open gravel lot surrounded and shaded by thick pines. About a half-dozen cars were already collecting a thin layer of pine needles and pollen over their hoods and windshields.
Lane and Luna had backed their Jeep into an empty space at the far end of the lot, closest to the exit. Once they locked up, Lane made an effort to take a mental snap shot of the Abidalli Residence. It was quaint. The longer Lane mentally digested the image of the cabin, staged was the word that felt more appropriate. It was a little past midday, but there wasn’t anything to suggest anyone else was home; no one to attend to the freshly planted flower bed of carnations.
“I’d feel a little stupid if I hadn’t done my research ahead of time. Jude has a wife and daughter, does he not?” Lane panted while he paced beside Luna.
Luna was busy looking up at the trees and listening to the bird songs drifting through the air, “That’s what his Linkedin page said at least.”
“You don’t find it odd that he doesn’t have any other social media?” Lane said, jogging forward as they reached the edge of the lot.
“Only as odd as how it’s socially acceptable to post all of one’s personal information across the internet for anyone to take advantage of. I sense Jude won’t easily acquiesce to a formal interview,” Luna replied.
With a sigh of conceit, Lane agreed, “Yeah. Let’s get through one day at a time.”
There was no signposted, but they eventually found the small dirt path that wound its way through dense overgrowth back to the main camp. Luna caught her second wind as the pain meds finally kicked in and off they went.
After a quarter-mile or so, the tree-lined canopy path opened to a dried-up lake bed. It was easily a half-mile in circumference, but if it had once been a beautiful man-made lake before, it was a red clay pit now. A cracked asphalt jogging track outlined the perimeter. That path and a series of wood-carved signs led the Twins through another grove of trees that created an arched tunnel of branches and leaves. They found themselves jogging along the base of the sloped football field, past the girls’ two-story bunkhouse, until at last they reached the inclined hill to the Great Lodge.
“There’s a set of stairs down to the amphitheatre behind the Great Lodge,” Lane panted out breathlessly.
Lane and Luna’s boots kicked up the gravel as they turned sharply toward the lodge and stood at the top of the stairs. Three flights down, the thin staircase led to a concrete amphitheatre built into the grass-covered hillside that looked out over the beautiful Spirit Lake.
There were five rings of stone benches that encircled a rectangular concrete stage about half the size of a basketball court. Above the bench seats, several tan canvas sails were stretched out from the trees by cables, angled to provide shade from the setting sun. The dozen or so counselors were reclining on the stone seats facing the stage, facing Jude.
He changed shirts. Jude now wore a light blue polo. Same soot covered shorts.
“Everyone, give a round of applause to the Woods’ Siblings for finally joining us here at orientation,” shouted Jude as he clapped his hands together with an overabundance of glee.
The other counselors clapped along at various degrees of disinterest.
Lane and Luna descended the wooden steps as a few counselors craned their necks. Most simply remained languid with their attention on Jude. So much for first impressions, Lane mused.
“Why don’t you both come on up here for introductions,” Jude said, not particularly as a request. The Twins obliged and once they reached the base of the stairs, walked up five stone steps to join Jude on stage. “Now, it’s kind of a tradition, that… Wait, we’ve got one more newbie with us here. Where’s Nathan Montgomery?”
“Don’t we wanna wait for our resident space case?” One of the male counselors shouted. “What happened to Alice?”
“Present,” Alice’s voice tumbled down from the opposite staircase like someone pushing a piano off a cliff. She was dressed far more modest than Lane had seen a few minutes earlier. Considering how he first met her, Alice’s new dress was the extreme opposite. She’d completely transformed into an outfit one might expect to see an extra from Little House on the Prairie wearing: burgundy colonial dress, wide straw hat, and her silver hair now intricately braided. “Sorry. Just making my way from the lavatory; not that it’s any of your business.”
Lane caught the look Alice shot him from across the aisle: devastating, sinister, and lustful all in one sideways glance.
“Please, let’s remember our PROPER names,” Jude encouraged the counselors. “Sitka, please take your seat with the other senior staffers. Our traditional baptism is about to begin.”
Lane scanned the faces of the other counselors: bored, disinterested, and listless. One face, in particular, sent a bolt of lightning down his spine. That ferocious gaze, fiery red hair, and freckled porcelain skin.
Impossible. It couldn’t be her. Could it? Lane’s mind reeled.
“Where is– Ah, there’s our third recruit,” Jude continued. He pointed out a shy girl cowering behind the woman Lane had nearly forgotten about since that day more than a decade ago. She’d grown into a profoundly beautiful woman, but it was definitely her.
Jordan Breathnach.
Lane felt the trauma of what had happened in the bathhouse covered by a sudden wave of rose-colored memories. A smile turned up at the corner of his lips. That teenage girl, the ghost of her grandfather, and the aftermath of that whole encounter flooded his mind. Like any wave, however, the cool waters of treasured memories quickly receded. The look in those eyes that met Lane’s did not hold the same amount of coveted nostalgia.
She looked pissed.
“There you go, come on up, Nathan. Excellent. We’re all here now,” Jude proclaimed, clapping his hands together, “I’m aware most of you know each other already, but this is all part of the process. This year is extra special. As my final year as director…”
There were some groans and cries of protest.
Jordan remained silent.
Her fiery eyes locked onto Lane’s and narrowed.
“During my final year here, I want to make it memorable. In keeping to the traditions most of you grew up with here at Trillion Pines, we shall all see that this summer goes out with a bang. So, without further adieu, let’s meet our new counselors and prepare for their baptism.” Jude turned to the three on stage with that toothy smile, “New people: kindly step up to the microphone, state your name, where you’re from, one thing you hate, and one thing you love.”
Lane, Luna, and the petite girl with the dark brown pixie cut all shrugged.
“Ladies first,” Lane suggested, gesturing to the lithe brunette.
The pixie-cut girl grimaced, “Gee, thanks.”
Stepping up to the center stage, the young-girl gingerly grabbed hold of the microphone. She spoke so quietly, even the amplifiers that flanked the stage barely reproducing her voice.
“We can’t hear you!” Someone shouted from the stone benches.
“I’m Nina, from Salem, Oregon. I love being alone and hate public speaking,” Her voice cracked slightly on the last point and she took one giant step back from the microphone.
The same beefy heckler spoke up again, “You must hate being up there then, huh?”
Nina took one giant step back up to the microphone again. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the neck of the mic stand while staring daggers at the boisterous counselor; “Yes.”
The boy kept laughing until he finally registered Nina’s body language and her hands choking out the microphone.
His forced laughter came to a sudden stop.
With a delicate chuckle, Jude broke the silence, “What do we say, counselors?” he asked expectantly with a wide grin.
The other counselors rose to their feet in unison and in one voice they sang back, “Thank you for your truth, Nina.”
“And with that, you are now a new…” Jude rolled his eyes, “…Person, at this camp, remade by the power of Spirit Lake and during your summer adventure with us, you shall now be known as… Providence.”
The crowd gave their refrain, “We thank you for your truth, Providence.” With smiles spread wide, most of the other counselors reached down for the water balloons floating in coolers at their feet and pummeled Nina. She attempted to keep composure, but her graceful walk off stage turned into a jog. Humiliated, the young girl sprinted up the slim steps to the Great Lodge.
“I guess I’m up then,” Apollena announced, seemingly without a care.
Lane reached out for his sister, but with a wink to her brother, she took hold of the mic.
Laying on her natural French accent on thick, Luna curtsied and began, “My name is Apolloene Woods, born in Nigeria, trafficked through Uganda, Sudan, Egypt, Tunisia and eventually liberated in France. After a year or two in Normandy’s youth detention system, I was adopted by my darling brother’s family and traveled here to North America, settling in sunny New Mexico. I may have been born into bondage, but embrace my home in the good old US of A.” The crowd was intrigued, shocked, and a little uncomfortable.
Luna continued, “Now let me see, a nickname based on a US Capitol City? I suppose somewhere in the Land of Enchantment would suit me; I am rather enchanting. But, Santa Fe seems too cliched, no? Has anyone taken Cloudcroft?”
Jude closed his open jaw slowly and shook his head, “Um, no? Typically, I dub the nicknames, but… I suppose…”
“Magnifique! Cloudcroft it is. You may proceed with your hazing,” Luna smiled and stuck her arms out to her sides. An open invitation. Judging by the audience’s reaction, no one was itching to lob a water balloon at the former orphan who’d been abducted and dragged throughout Africa.
At least, all but one.
The same blonde buzzcut heckler stood up, balloon in hand, “Thanks for your truth, Cloudcroft,” He halfheartedly tossed his balloon high and outside.
Apollena quickly snatched the stray missile out of the air with one hand and held it above her head. The crowd of counselors drew a collective breath.
Luna smirked, “Wouldn’t want this to go to waste, would we?” She crushed the balloon in her palm. Water burst out and ran down her arm and soaked her teal, cotton tanktop. Before sauntering away, Luna leaned back to grab hold of the microphone, “Oh, almost forgot; I love bears, and I hate not being bare.”
With a subtle bow, she let the loose, damp top of hers show a healthy amount of cleavage. Luna shot her head back up, making direct eye contact and a mental note of who was starring back, then slowly drew herself back up before skipping off the stage.
A stunned Jude attempted to recompose himself, clearing his throat, “O-okay. Cloudcroft it is. Thank you for your truth. Lane, you’re up next, bud.”
Lane couldn’t take his eyes off Jordan; mostly because of a deep longing he’d forgotten, but also in fear that should he look away she’d attack. In hindsight he should have kept his eyes on Alice. After all, she was most likely to attack.
Jordan’s eyelids narrowed. Brow furrowed. Fists and teeth clenched. There was no mistake that Jordan’s scorn was aimed squarely at Lane, not any hint of affection.
Lane cleared his throat and feedback shot through the amplifiers; “Hi. I’m Lane.” What the hell was she mad about? His mind desperately spiraled for an answer. I hadn’t even seen or talked to her since that day we both… Oh. Yeah. That might be it.
“Hey space case, you wanna keep going? We got stuff to do today,” The blonde heckler called out. He gave his buddies high fives followed by sneers and muffled laughter.
“Vegas,” Jude shot out, “Let’s keep the commentary to a minimum. Lane, you mind wrapping it up? Location, love, and hate…?” There was an exaggerated hand motion given to help Lane move the introduction along and get to the embarrassing rite of passage.
“Right. I’m Lane, from Santa Fe, I like photography, not a huge fan of the ocean,” He started to walk off before the water balloons could find their mark, but Jude held up one hand in the air to halt the bombardment and another outstretched to hold Lane in place.
“Lane, bud, how about some honesty, or a little more conviction? ‘Like? Not a fan,’ Where’s the passion? The desire? We need your truth,” Jude insisted with a hollow smile.
Lane glanced at the camp director then quickly back to Jordan. Yup. Still pissed. She looked ready to pull Lane’s head off with her bare hands. He scrambled for something to say, “I really love photography, and I hate the Atlantic Ocean,” he lied.
Fortunately, Lane sounded convincing enough for Jude to drop his arm and allow the balloons to fly forth; “We thank you for your truth… Roswell.”
Most of the counselors’ shots missed. As Lane turned to shuffle off stage-left like a good sport, one fastball caught him at the base of the neck. It had enough force behind it that he almost fell off the steps. A few hoots and hollers from the crowd of counselors erupted.
Lane put on a smile, wiped his face, and kept walking, but he knew who threw the balloon. Her face wanted him to know. Jordan kept the same scowl aimed at the boy she resented since that early-morning-nightmare years ago.
“Alright everyone, with our baptism concluded, we are now one new body here at Trillion Pines Youth Camp. We are all one. Committed to the end. Amen?” There was a dramatic pause where Jude flared his nostrils and scanned the seats. “Let’s give a round of applause for our transplanted organs in our administrative body: Roswell, Cloudcroft, and Providence.”
More cheering and shouts followed as Lane joined his sister among the other counselors on the stone benches. It wasn’t until one of the other counselors pointed it out that Lane had some concern about this little welcoming ritual of theirs.
A thick girl with gorgeous blonde locks and a demure Southern accent spoke out, “Jude, I don’t think our lady Providence is back from the ladies’ room upstairs. You think she’ll be alright? I’d be happy to check in on her. Make sure she ain’t too hurt and wet.” She giggled.
Jude waved her off. “Providence will be fine. Now, it’s time to reveal this year’s camp t-shirts!” Giving a hand signal to the blonde buzz cut kid, the counselor leaped from his seat and set a cardboard box at Jude’s feet. “Thank’s, Brad—”
“Hey! Brad is my dead name,” the blond crew cut kid laughed, “I am Vegas.” Brad turned and flexed to his fellow counselors who all screamed and repeated his new name.
“Vegas!” They cheered.
What a tool, Lane groaned to himself. Although, it might be helpful to make himself useful in the meantime. Standing from his seat and making his way to the stairs, Lane half-turned to the camp director, “Jude, I don’t mind checking on Nina, er, Providence, I mean. Make sure she’s okay and everything.”
Jude rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Fine. Toss her a camp t-shirt while you’re at it.”
Brad, or Vegas rather, threw a T-shirt at Lane. Extra small. He snickered, “This should work unless they shrank again with all that cold water. You don’t have that problem too? Shrinkage I mean, in cold water, do you, Roswell?”
Not that Lane was devoid of wit. His mind was simply too occupied on four fronts: the Omens, the Bathhouse Incident, encountering Jordan again, and lastly, making sure Nina wasn’t traumatised from her bombardment and malicious use of a dead name.
“Hey, Roswell, are you gonna answer? Or are you in outer space again?” Brad demanded.
Lane continued up the narrow stairs when he heard his sister declare above the noise, “No use sitting in this soaked shirt,” she cried out, peeling off her t-shirt to a chorus of gasps and howls from the counselors. “Heathered cotton-polyester mix? And it’s in my colors, too. How ’bout it, boys and girls? Does it look okay?” Lane scoffed. Luna’s new shirt was a size too small and hugged her body in all the right spots; of course, it looked okay.
But, that wasn’t what Luna was after.
Apollena was already busy working the crowd, testing, teasing, and laying the groundwork for future assets and hindrances in their investigation.
With the majority of the counselors distracted and fawning over his sister, Lane slipped up the steps, undeterred to the Great Lodge in search of the lost counselor. He didn’t look back, but as Lane ascended, he could feel the burning, watchful gaze of Jordan’s eyes on his back.
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