The Grove (Ravens #1)

xxii. vagabonds

The four kids who called themselves the Riot had embarked on a wild journey. They only had to travel fifty miles, approximately a day's walk, if they were to average twenty minutes per mile. Cameron had predicted it would take them three days, allowing for breaks, a slower pace, and of course, time spent getting lost. They arrived at Camp Peregrin at the top of the fourth night.

They had gotten horrendously lost along the way. Cameron had instructed them very clearly to avoid the forests. They were unsure of where Harper's army would be, and they couldn't risk being seen. Besides, the quickest route was by following the old highway. The signs that once marked exits, however, were long gone or had layers of festering moss, so they were clueless as to where they were. After so many wrong turns, they were shocked to discover the camp at all.

When they'd reached what they believed to be the entrance, they agreed to send one member down first. The road leading to the campsite was surrounded by trees, and their goal of going undercover was mandatory. Natalia was the candidate. She was unknown by most inhabitants of the City, so they wouldn't recognize her to be one of the runaway foursome. She was also a smart girl, and a fighter. If there were people living in the camp, she could fend them off until the rest of the Riot could save her.

Natalia tip-toed down the hilly road until she came upon a sign. The painted wood was faded, but she could clearly make out the only word that mattered.

"We're here!" she called up to her friends.

"If there's anyone down there, they'll have heard her," Marley muttered to Jacob and Donovan. Still, the trio approached her and the sign.

"There's no footprints anywhere, and nobody's vandalized this sign or anything," Natalia observed, "I don't think anyone is here."

"They might be at the base," Jacob pointed out.

Donovan shook his head, "Look," he gestured to a field below them that was covered with weeds and overgrown plants, "That had to have been a garden when this camp was real, but it hasn't been touched in years."

"So Kamai isn't here either," Jacob muttered, "Well, at least we're alone so far. Should we head down?" He was met with a unanimous nod, and the group began to continue down the steep path towards the camp. Apparently cars and buses had once managed down this road; it seemed like they would have rolled right off. In a way, these kids had forgotten how normal driving once was. It had been years since they'd sat behind a steering wheel. Some of them had never even been old enough to drive.

Once at the base, they were overcome with silence. It was as though the camp hadn't been touched in years. There was no trash anywhere, no sign that someone was living there, no signs of enemies.

"Hands up," Donovan whispered to his friends, and they followed his instructions. He then yelled, loud enough for anyone who might be living in the camp to hear, "We come in peace. Is there anybody here?" The Riot stood at the base of this gravel path for about five minutes, waiting for some sign of life. There was nothing. They were alone.

The group began to walk around the perimeter of the abandoned camp. At the bottom of the large hill, there was a lake, still equipped with canoes and kayaks and the fishing gear the campers had once used to explore. Fishing gear was good; it meant they could find food. Along the camp sat around fifteen cabins, each of them filled with four to six sets of bunkbeds, depending on the side. The doors were all locked, but some quick finagling opened them easily. Dust filled the empty rooms, a final sign that they did not share this land with anyone else.

As the sun set that evening, the Riot sat outside by the clearing that once held a campfire. They were too tired from their journeys to find dry wood, and besides, the air was warm that night.