Campfire Stories (Pt 1)

It was a night just like this.

Six campers were out with their Scoutmaster on an overnight camping trip. They were just settling in after a long day of hiking when suddenly they heard it, a wailing coming from the forest that chilled them to the bone. They had all heard of the Woods Witch, of course, everyone around here had, and they all knew how shed lured all those children into the forest so long ago. They knew about how the search party had heard screams echoing through the woods that night as they searched in vain for the lost kids. And, of course, they all knew about how they found Chimney Cave full of the bones and half-eaten bodies of the missing children she'd taken.

They also knew how the townspeople buried her alive after setting fire to her den inside that cave.

They didn't believe the legends about the witch's ghost. How she still haunts the woods and kills anyone foolish enough to stay there after dark. They unwisely went to sleep, huddled down in their sleeping bags, and tried to ignore the eerie moaning that came echoing from the woods.

Then they heard it, deep in the night, the wailing getting closer and closer to their campsite. The scouts couldn't sleep. They huddled in their sleeping bags as the wailing grew closer and closer. They heard the trees shake and the leaves crackle as the wailing came closer and closer. They added their fearful cries to the wailing as it grew closer and closer. Until finally…

BOOOO!

We all jumped, but none of us jumped higher than Reggie. Bobby, grinning like an idiot as he stood at the edge of the firelight, pointed and laughed at the wet spot on the front of Reggie's shorts. His cretinous little friends joined in, but I just sighed and shook my head. Every day with this bunch, I swear.

"Look guys, Wedgie had a widdle accident!" he said and cawed laughter as his other two meathead friends laughed along with him. Mark and Kyle weren't much higher in the brains department than Bobby, but they knew enough to laugh when he laughed. Otherwise, they might find themselves at the end of a beating.

I looked over at Reggie and sighed; how did a kid like Reggie get roped into Boy Scouts?

I had been with the scouts for about three years now, and I think if my dad hadn't been so serious about me staying, I would have left after the first week.

"I know it doesn't mean much to you now, kiddo, but if you can climb the ranks, maybe even stay until middle school, it'll look good on a college transcript one day. You've gotta think about those extracurriculars while you're young!" he'd said with all the weight of a man handing down a cosmic truth.

Yeah, thanks, dad. After three years of being in a four-man scout troop with Bobby Terry and his idiot friends, and all I had to show for it was some knot-tying knowledge and the ability to identify poison oak. The last three years had also been filled with Bobby and his friends trying to tease and bully me and me, ignoring them until they stopped, only to start up again a little while later. The scoutmasters we had tried to hold their attention, but the three of them were more intent on making everyone else's life a living hell than learning about knots or birds or whatever.

In a way, it had been a blessing when Reggie joined.

Reggie, this overweight kid with glasses and a fear of everything, had transferred into my troop about a month ago. Reggie and his mom had just moved into town, and even though he'd been in the scouts before, he seemed pretty pathetic at most everything. The only thing he seemed to excel at, and even I felt a little bad about thinking it, was being a big target for Bobby and his friends. I felt sorry for him, of course, as he sat there in his chocolate-stained uniform and his discolored shorts that had been peed in one too many times. Still, it was also kind of nice to get a break from Bobby and his constant need to torment someone. Since Reggie had come along, I had been all but invisible, and I kind of liked it.

Scoutmaster Mike, our designated "grownup" for this trip, sighed and glared at Bobby. "Bobby Terry, if you don't calm down, I'm going to call your father and tell him to come pick you up. Is that what you want?"

Bobby stopped laughing. Bobby's father was the only thing that seemed to take the wind out of his sales. Mr. Terry was a beefy car mechanic with no neck and big scarred hands that made me think he beat the cars into submission before fixing them. He always showed up to get Bobby at the end of meetings in his ratty old blue ford, wearing his faded blue jumpsuit with "Terry'' stitched on and a slim cigar poking out of his mouth. He always growled around the cigar to tell Bobby to "Get the hell in the truck; I'm missin my dinner."

It had been unanimously decided, my dad told me once, that Bobby's dad didn't have to chaperone scout outings, and this seemed to be just fine with Mr. Terry.

Reggie sniffed and sat up off the ground quickly, "Mr. Mike, I think I….need to go change my pants."

Scoutmaster Mike blew out a long, horsey breath, "Go ahead, Reggie. The rest of you go get ready for bed. We have a long hike to Chimney Caves tomorrow, and I don't want to hear about anybody being tired tomorrow morning. Lights out in twenty." and with that, he set about getting the campsite ready for bedtime as we four shuffled into the big six-man tent we were all sharing.

It wouldn't do any good to argue Scoutmaster Mike. He wasn't an ideal scoutmaster, and arguing usually just got you a locked tent flap as he sat in his tent and ignored you. Of course, he wasn't supposed to lock his tent, but my dad told me Mr. Mike had this weird fear of bugs crawling into his tent at night, so he always ensured his tent was secured with a lock from the inside.

I flopped down onto my sleeping bag as Mark, Kyle, and Bobby arranged their bags close enough that they could see what Bobby had brought. I took out my lamp and a copy of Lord of the Rings as I settled in for a little reading before bed. Reggie came into the tent a few minutes later wearing a pair of pajama bottoms with cartoon characters on them. He smelled slightly of pee, and when he pitched his bag towards the other end of the tent, I was silently glad. The other three boys were gathered around Bobby's sleeping bag, ignoring Reggy for once. Bobby had taken some of his father's dirty magazines, it seemed, and now that their tired game of "pick on the fat boy" had ended, they were content to ogle the glossy pictures. Reggie crawled into his sleeping bag, looking for all the world like a giant green caterpillar with the shakes. I went back to my book, losing myself in Tolkien's world of elves, orcs, and magic rings. When it became apparent that Scoutmaster Mike wasn't going to yell at us to turn the lights off and no one was going to opt for an early bedtime, I rolled over and went to sleep.

The following day, Scoutmaster Mike didn't come out for breakfast. We banged on his tent and tried to get his attention, but he wouldn't come out. The cooler with the food was in his tent, so we started getting restless after a breakfast of granola bars, water, trail mix, and water bottles. We were supposed to go on our hike to Howling Caves today, and as the morning crept closer to midday, we all began to get pissy as small children are want to do. Finally, Bobby shouted that he'd just cut the tent open and see what was taking Scoutmaster Mike so long. After he failed to find his pocket knife, however, the threat stopped being so threatening. I, for one, was pretty glad he had lost it. Nothing in these woods frightened me as much as Bobby Terry with a knife.

Finally, at around ten-thirty, Bobby announced that we should all just pack up and go to Howling Cave ourselves.

"Without Mr. Mike?" Reggie asked, a stutter creeping into his voice.

"Oh no, Wedgy! I guess you're right. We can't go without him. Maybe we'll just roll his tent along behind us so he can sleep and chaperone us. Yes, without him stupid. It's not like all of US haven't been before."

This was true. When we were first-year scouts, we had all camped here. Scoutmaster Eddy had taken us up to Howling Cave and let us explore it a little. I remember being disappointed because none of us found out why it was called Howling Cave. At the age of six, I thought it was because wolves lived there, and I wanted to find one, so I could keep it as a pet. Bobby had also pushed Kyle off a rock shelf while horsing around, so we had to leave before exploring all the tunnels. If we went by ourselves though…

I put a few things in my pack, and as Bobby and his friends headed out, I tagged along behind them.

Bobby noticed me, of course, "You comin too, Squints?" he asked, bringing his old nickname out of mothballs for the occasion.

"As long as you don't get us too lost, I guess I am," I said.

We hadn't gone far when a loud, running, huffing figure came up the trail to join us. Reggie had thrown on his bulging knapsack, and it looked like he was prepared for a week on the Appalachian Trail. His mother had packed half a pharmacy and two-thirds of a Sear camping department into it. He was now running after us like the devil himself was in pursuit, clanking and shaking all the while. Bobby sneered at him but replaced the sneer with a big cheesy grin when he came blustering up to join us.

"Oh good, you made it, Wedgy. This hike just wouldn't be the same without you," he said in a saccharine sweet voice.

The rest of the hike was spent with Bobby and his friends having a whispered conversation.

Despite what I'd said earlier, there was no chance of us getting lost. We may not have been in a state park or anything, but Howling Cave doubled as the trailhead for a branch of the Appalachian Trail, and there were markers all along the way. The hike was an easy one, half a mile up to the cave on fairly level terrain through the cool shadows of the woods. Bobby and his friends led the way, and Reggie and I were relegated to picking up the rear as we went along. I had expected Reggie to slow us down or start whining like he usually did, but he kept pace somehow and seemed pretty comfortable as we rolled along.

Even so, there was sweat standing out on all of us by the time we got to Howling Cave. The entrance yawned open like a hungry mouth, and as we stepped into the coolness of the cave, we were plunged into near darkness in no time. Flashlights winked on then, and we swept them around the big entrance cave, its ceiling hanging above us like a waiting predator.

The beams fell on a series of tunnels. The tunnels were called the roots, and the cave we were in was the trunk. Many of the trails met up and cut back to the trunk, with only a few of them ending in dead ends. A ranger or whoever was in charge of keeping bears and things out of this popular tourist destination had nailed a plaque up on the wall that showed the tunnels' various routes and intersections.

We were all looking at the map when we heard the wail.

It was otherworldly, like a banshee's cry, and it seemed to slice through the trunk like a knife through butter. We all looked up at the sound, and Reggie wasn't the only one who looked scared. We all stood perfectly still for a count of five before Reggie voiced what we were all thinking.

"What was that?"

"Maybe," Bobby said, a sly grin stretching his face, "it was the Woods Witch who lives in this cave. She smelled your dinner rolls and got hungry, Wedgy",

He turned suddenly and grabbed a double handful of the boy's large and overflowing gut. Reggie screamed and tried to pull away, but Bobby had him in a firm grip and cackled madly as he pinched and pulled at the fat rolls. Reggie finally pulled away, and as he stumbled, sobbing, to the stone floor, I found myself reaching to help him up.

"Knock it off, Bobby." I asked, already tired of this crap, "Can't you stop being a jerk for five seconds?"

Bobby Oooed comically, "Look here, guys, I think Squints found himself a boyfriend." they laughed, but I ignored them and started down the closest tunnel, anything to get away from Bobby and his asshole brigade.

I wasn't surprised when Reggie tagged along. The fat boy kept pace behind me easily, but I ignored him as we walked. I took paths at random, pretending to look at the cave formations and other natural wonders as they fell into my flashlight beam. We walked in silence for a while, the tunnels becoming slightly claustrophobic, before he thanked me for standing up for him. I guess no one had ever really stood up for Reggie before because he seemed unsure of himself as he tripped over his hastily constructed thank you.

"That Bobby is a real...a real asshole." he finished and then covered his mouth like he'd committed blasphemy.

I laughed a little; I couldn't help it, "He can be. Just stand up to him, and maybe he'll stop."

Reggie chuckled, "Maybe he'll rip my head off." he said in a low voice.

We came to a fork in the paths, and Reggie looked sheepishly at me, "I've got to pee. Will you wait here for me?" he asked.

I nodded, and he went down the left-hand path a ways until I couldn't see him anymore.

As I stood there waiting, that stupid noise howled through the cave again, and it spiked every hair on my head in a shiver. "What the hell is that?" I thought to myself. Far from being scared, it made me curious. Caves don't just naturally scream, Woods Witch or not. So while I was sure the howling was how the cave had gotten its name, I found myself wondering how it made the noise that gave it its ominous title.

I was still wondering when suddenly and unexpectedly, a tall, humanoid shape lumbered from the darkness ahead and screamed at me. A beam of light lit its face, some five feet in the air, and I stumbled and fell backward to the stone floor. I scrambled back on my hands and butt, and felt my palms open up as the creature walked towards me. It let out another ear-splitting howl, and it towered over me as I sat on the cave floor. All I could think to do was turn my flashlight on it and see what was going to kill me before it devoured me, my beam shaking a little as it revealed them.

That's when the creature started laughing, and I realized that it was just Bobby sitting on Mark's shoulders. I got up, spitting curses as the two boys separated, flustered and thoroughly upset. I was getting ready to give them a piece of my mind when a new scream split the air. It wasn't the usual deep throated-howl of the cave, and it certainly wasn't the cry of some animal. Instead, it was a child's scream, and in it was held all the fear and hopelessness of a child's life before he comes to learn that the real monsters are the ones that walk on two legs.

It was Reggie's scream, and without thinking, the three of us began to run towards it.

We found Reggie sitting on the cave floor in much the same way I had been a minute ago. He was crab walking backward, his sneakers making little rubbery scuffing noises on the ground as he tried to climb the far wall. As I ran up, I caught a whiff of a weird smell as it wafted around the small chamber. Some metallic odor that became known to us when we finally came up even with the scared Reggie.

Kyle's body hung limply from the cave wall. Someone had cut his throat for him and then opened his stomach down to the groin and let his entrails fall out in long ropes. Someone had pushed him against the wall, the red drag marks as he'd slumped proved that, and his clothes were soaked with red sticky blood. The three of us took a few slow steps away from the body and then did what any boys our age would have done when presented with the scene before us.

We ran.