Camp Antler Point

Chapter 4

Once she cleaned the mud out of her orthotics and changed into a dry set of clothes, Amy entered her father's cabin. The scent of pine permeated everything from the stack of firewood in the corner to the chairs piled high with wool blankets. The uneven floorboards creaked with every step anyone took, yet her entrance still managed to startle her dad out of his pacing-induced trance. "Good, you're here. Are the kids all occupied?"

"All stuffing their faces with chili," Lucas said.

"Good." He paused, swallowed. "You guys better sit down."

Once they'd all sunk into the overly toasty seats, he began again. Slowly, as if he had to dredge each word from the bottom of Lake Murgenthal. "We found Jessica."

"Finally!" Carson said. "I was starting to think she'd ditched me here. Where the hell has she been?"

Mr. Sterling winced. "In the forest. The police are still looking into what happened, but..." He bit his lip. "She's dead, Carson. I'm sorry."

Silence pressed on all of them, squeezing the air out of their lungs as they struggled to find something to say.

"It's my fault," Carson whispered. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides before finally tightening so hard they trembled from the force of his grip. "The last time I saw her was when she left to..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "She was going to raid the supply cabin, get us some snacks to help us get through the summer."

"It's not your fault," Mr. Sterling said gently. "When I was your age, my ex-wife and I snuck out to swim in Lake Murgenthal. I had the brilliant idea to do a cannonball and, well, let's just say it's a miracle she's as strong as she is stubborn, or else I would have drowned."

Her mom had always said she'd actually pushed him in for staring at some of the other girls a smidge too long, but Amy wasn't about to bring that up.

"It's perfectly fine if you want to head home for the summer," Mr. Sterling said. He lightly thumped the dusty old landline hooked up to the wall, the only functioning phone for miles. "If you need to call your folks or anyone else, the phone's all yours. And don't you worry about the kids. I've got enough favors I can call in to make sure they've always got someone around to take care of them until their parents come pick them up."

"We've got you covered," Lucas said. He gave Carson a reassuring thump on the back.

Carson stayed quiet for a long minute. "I can't go home," he said. "Not right now. Our parents live in the same town, and I just... I can't right now."

Amy gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Feel free to let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"The best thing I can do is keep my mind busy, I think." His voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

Mr. Sterling nodded. "Fair enough. I'll be busy notifying everyone's parents in case they want to pick up their kids. In the meantime, it would be great if you guys could keep the kids occupied inside for a while. The storm'll give us an excuse for the time being, but I'd like to keep them inside at least until the police sort out what happened."

The cabin's walls trembled as thunder rumbled in the distance. Windswept branches tapped against the windows like antlers honed to fine points.

"At this rate, we could have everyone focus on cleaning up the camp after the weather clears," Lucas said. "It sounds like it's going to be nasty."

"Good thinking," Mr. Sterling said. "Why don't you boys go get some stuff from the supply cabin? Snacks, flashlights, maybe some board games if you can dig up any that aren't missing pieces. Amy'll catch up with you in a bit."

After the boys left, Amy crossed her legs and scooched further into the chair. If this was going to be anything like her dad's usual you-need-to-be-more-careful talks, she'd be there for a while.

He sat there for a long moment before finally whispering, "That could have easily been you."

She reached over his desk to rest her hand on his. He was trembling like a leaf caught in a storm despite the brave face he'd put on for the boys. "I'll be okay."

He offered her a shaky smile. "Promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't ever stop believing that."

He glanced at the lone picture on his desk, a snapshot of her fishing with her parents. She'd been eight years old at the time, a fun-size bundle of radiant confidence that shined with pride as she dragged a catfish out of the water. Her mom crouched next to her, probing into the fish's mouth with a pair of pliers as Amy's pole bowed to the strength of its thrashing. Her dad's face peeked from the side of the frame with a face full of sunburned skin and laughter.

"Sometimes I forget how much butt you could kick even back then," he said. "You get that from your mom."

"Nope, that's from both of you."

"You really think so?"

"Have you seen anyone else around here who'd be able to handle Mom for even five minutes?"

"You've got me there." Her dad pulled her into a tight hug. "Now go show those kids a fun time. They need it."

"I think we all do."