Camp

Camp

By: Roger Alderman

     I ‘m no novice at causing people grief, and I enjoy the chaos I create, but they went too far. It all started when I got suspended on my last days before summer at Nordstrom Middle School. The world is so over sensitive these days. I was sent to the principal's office for acting like my hand was a gun. 

     The principal sent me home with a letter to my parents. In the letter, the principal demanded that I see a counselor, as I needed to be more sensitive to others. My parents took me to the councilor they recommended. She did not like our conversation. 

     Afterwards, she had several late-night meetings with my parents. She recommended that I be sent to a special camp. My parents told me how this good for me. I reluctantly agreed. 

     I should have realized something was wrong when my parents started filling out all those forms. There were so many forms, but the ones, they were most excited to get their hands on was the Insurance Forms. They took me to the doctor right away for a complete physical. 

     I am in great condition. I play soccer and take taekwondo. So, there were no problems there with my health and the doctor filled out his part of the forms. My parents sent the forms in. I had never seen them so excited. 

     The day came to be picked up for camp. I was surprised when the bus showed up looking like something out of a post-apocalypse nightmare. The whole thing was dark blue with thick wire mesh secured to the outside of the windows. 

     It stopped in front of my house, and the door opened. Six huge guys in cargo shorts and polo shirts, the camp councilors I guess, rushed to meet my parents. From behind the wall of councilors, a boy about my age stepped out and greeted my parents. They all smiled and laughed. My parents motioned for me to come outside, and I did. 

     It was completely surreal. My parents handed them the papers, and they lead me onto the bus like a cow to the slaughter. I tried to resist, but they had me down and on the bus and in my seat. I looked out my window as my parents, and that boy walked into our house. I yelled, “what the hell is going on?” I felt something pierce the side of my neck and then darkness. 

     I awoke in covered in sweat and lying on a moldy cot in a termite-riddled wooden shed. I was no longer bound or gagged. I stood and walked to the door. It was locked. I looked between the planks and saw only forest surrounding me. I rattled the door, and heavy footsteps followed. 

     I was knocked down as the door burst inward and struck my head. He was huge and wore military tactical clothes. His face was covered, but I could clearly make out his commands. “Outside Now!” he only had to say it once. I staggered outside motivated by his repeated pushes. 

     I looked around kids all over the place just like me. Each child followed one of the black-clad storm troopers. They gathered us all in the center of a clearing. In the center of the clearing was a tall wooden pole with a speaker who stood in the middle of us. 

     “Good afternoon children,” announced the speaker. We looked around at each other confusion wore heavy on each of our faces. A boy yelled out and collapsed to the ground a wound tunneled through the head and gave me a clear view of his attacker. I stood coated in everything from between his ears. Everyone froze in terror as the stormtroopers held us at gunpoint. 

     “You are here because you’ve been deemed unworthy to remain in polite society by your families and peers. And you have been selected for removal and re-education” We stood in shock as each question resulted in a culling of our herd by our black-clad shepherds. “Now, if there are no more questions, we will begin with learning to Respect those in positions of authority.” 

I hate camp.