Camp Wacko: The Drones of Summer (13 page)

Initiation

MUCH TO EVERYONE’S relief, we were given a day to recover from the brutal new training program. We were free to roam the campus and do what we wanted. Unfortunately, the majority of us didn’t even have the strength to get out of bed.

Two hours before lunch, True and I went off to meet Candy and her friends near the edge of the woods. It still hurt to walk, but the nurse at the infirmary had given me a clean bill of health. I was just badly bruised and would probably remain so for quite some time. As you can probably guess, I wasn’t exactly overjoyed with the news.

We found the group standing in a tight huddle along the line of forest trees. When we weren’t scheduled to go on hikes, there were thick ropes wrapped around the tree trunks, acting as a warning barrier to those who wished to enter. One of the guys had his hands placed on one of the ropes, leaning forward as if contemplating whether to climb over or not. I eyed the treetops, guessing there was some kind of hidden camera there so that they’d be able to catch anyone who tried it.

Candy spotted us and waved us over. The rest of her crew turned around. Hard-faced and determined, they were a rough-looking bunch. I wondered how Miss Perfect got herself mixed up with this crowd.

“So, you’re Lily Mason.” The boy who had been leaning on the rope came over to stand in front of me. He gave me the once-over, offering his hand. “That was brutal training yesterday. You’ve got some serious skills.”

Smiling, I shook his hand. His palms were rough and strong. “Thanks. I’m sure you do too. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You can call me Jack.” Letting go of my hand, he turned his attention to True. “And you are…?”

She introduced herself, matching his firm handshake.

Candy suggested we talk somewhere more private. She lead us down to a now abandoned snack booth located on the very outskirts of one of the many golf courses. She informed us that after school ended the staff hadn’t bothered to open it up again. There were more important things to attend to. Dustin had told her about this place of course, when he took her there as one of the many stops on their first official date.

Candy made sure to steal a quick glance in my direction as she mentioned this. I stared back at her, raising an eyebrow as if I had no idea why she was looking at me. With the sudden startling urge to slap that slightly triumphant look off her face, I busied myself by getting to know the other members of the group.

Each one had been in at least one other establishment of Dr. Wacko’s. They were here for what they were told would be their final training, the ultimate test before everything became a reality. Of course, these guys knew something was up. All of this training wasn’t for nothing. As far as they knew, the headmaster was preparing us for something big, something bad, and they no longer wanted to have any part of it.

We crowded around one of the empty benches standing in front of the deserted snack booth. Jack quietly asked one of the girls, Angela, to keep her eyes and ears open for anyone who might be trying to listen in on the conversation. I highly doubted she would need to since we were the only ones out there, but I admired Jack for staying on his toes. All Angela gave was a slight nod of her head to indicate she would do so.

“So, Lily and True, why should we let you into the group? For all we know, you could be working as spies for the headmaster.” Jack said this as if he was talking about the weather, casual and polite.

“How do we know you’re not working for him?” I asked, matching his nonchalant tone.

He smiled, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Once we know you aren’t spies, I guess you’ll find out.”

I leaned back in my seat, squinting at him. This guy wasn’t going to give away any information easily. I suspected we would have to do something to gain their trust.

“What exactly do we have to do to prove ourselves?” True questioned, as if reading my mind.

Jack held up his index finger. “One moment, please.” He leaned in to whisper something to Candy.

They conferred for a minute or two before turning back to the rest of the group. By now I had guessed Jack and Candy led this crew. The question was, how and when had they formed this group?

“All right, so each of you is going to have a different task,” Candy announced, a slight smirk on her face. “Lily, you will have to break into the Headmaster’s Mansion, and take one item without getting caught. True, your job is to find out the deal with those kids we used as training dummies yesterday. Something’s off about them and we want to know what it is.”

Jack nodded. “You have till breakfast time tomorrow to fulfill your tasks. If you get caught or do not finish in time, you won’t be given a second chance. Good luck.”

He started to get up, signaling the rest of the group to leave as well.

As they walked away, True and I shared worried glances. Just how were we going to pull this off in one night?

I sauntered into the boys’ dormitory as if I belonged there, careful to keep an eye open for any stragglers. Everyone was supposed to be at lunch, but a few could have stayed behind to rest instead. The lounge area was absolutely empty. So far so good.

If the boys’ dorm had the same structure as the girls’ dorm, then the rooms would go in alphabetical order based on the last names of the tenants. I quietly hurried down the hallway until I reached the room I was looking for, Dustin Armando Wackerson. Bingo.

I tried the door. Locked, of course. I took the keycard I had been given at the beginning of camp from around my neck. Pushing myself up against the door so I could see the outline of the lock, I slipped the card through the small opening between the door and the wall. There was a soft click. This time, when I tried the door, it swung open.

Being the head honcho’s son, Dustin had received an especially spacious room all to himself. With a great view, I might add. Decked out with game systems and other high-tech goodies, the place would have served better as a rec room. He had a king-sized bed, with a mint green comforter and sheets. Oddly enough, everything was neat and tidy. Nothing seemed out of place.

Dustin had mentioned he had to go have dinner with his father in his mansion every night. It could only be assumed that the headmaster’s son would have a key to the house. All I needed to figure out was where he could have hidden it.

First, I checked the closet. I searched through every pocket and every shoe. Nada. Now it was time to search through the drawers. I completely avoided the underwear drawer, promising myself that I would give it a thorough inspection only if necessary. After that I searched everywhere else, but still came up with nothing. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. There was only one other place—besides the dreaded underwear drawer—left to look.

I dropped down on my knees to take a peek under the bed. Of course. The rest of the place looked neat because he had shoved everything under here. Pushing aside the old pair of socks, broken iPod touch, cracked baseball bat, and candy wrappers, I searched for anything special. Something caught my eye, a small wooden box. Examining it some more, I discovered it needed a key.

I began to run my hand along the bottom of the bed. My fingers touched a raised bump, a button. Almost instantly after I pressed it, a tiny black pouch fell out from under the bed. Inside were two golden keys. One of them fit the keyhole in the wooden box. The lid snapped open with a click. A revolver gleamed before my eyes. The moment I saw this, I nearly dropped the box. However, I managed to keep my cool, simply removing the gun and gently setting it down on the floor.

It had concealed a picture. A younger Dustin smiled up at me. On either side of him stood his parents. His mom was radiant in a silky red gown. Surprisingly, Dr. Wacko didn’t look as crazy. It was the closest to normal I had ever seen him. His smile seemed genuine, friendly even. He gazed adoringly at his wife, appearing to be savoring her very existence. They were the picture-perfect family.

Next to the photo lay a beautiful ring. Rubies sat in the center, skillfully crafted to resemble a blossoming flower. The band itself was made of gold embedded with many tiny diamonds. Engraved into the inside of the band was a name, Lilith. I had never seen anything quite like it. No doubt this ring had been specially made just for Dustin’s mom. She and I shared the same name, as Cameron had told me so long ago. Gingerly I put everything back in its place. Well, everything except for the other key. That I slipped into my pocket for safekeeping.

Several hours later, I found myself standing before Dr. Wacko’s fortress. In truth, it was more like a palace. The building reached a whopping five stories. Nearly the whole thing had been built out of glass and marble. Beautiful, but menacing. I glanced down at the glistening key in my hand and took a deep breath. It was now or never. I was standing out here way past my curfew in the late night hours, alone and vulnerable. I could get caught at any minute. My heart pounded against my chest in an abnormal rhythm, begging me to go back to bed and forget this whole thing.

There was no way I would be turning back now. With careful steps I made my way around the entire building, searching for any kind of keyhole that might be a match for Dustin’s key. Halfway around, I found it. It was cleverly concealed inside a window. I almost passed it, but a flash of silver against clear glass revealed a keyhole perfectly matching the key in my hand. When I turned it, the wall itself, with the frame of the window inside, swung inward.

All was quiet and dark when I entered. I tiptoed across the room, careful not to let the soles of my shoes click-clack against the tiled floors. On and on I went, searching for any small item I could get my hands on that wouldn’t be missed. It should have been easy, but you wouldn’t believe the number of deliciously mysterious doors just on the first floor. Many led to wondrous rooms filled with obviously expensive antiques and other luxurious furnishings. The whole place had me enchanted, but I was here for a reason and I really tried to keep from getting distracted. At least I didn’t let myself leave the first floor. Who knew what was on the higher floors? Dr. Wacko himself was either fast asleep or up and about at this time of night.

I entered the billiard room. Large paintings of Dr. Wacko covered the walls. Each one was a different version of him. For instance, one depicted the crazy man as a king, a bejeweled crown and scepter showing off His Majesty’s authority. Another was of him as a Roman emperor, a Corona Civica nestled on his head. In every picture his expression remained the same: stern and determined.

Trying to ignore the creepy pictures, I ran a finger along the pool table, the centerpiece of the room. The balls were scattered across the velvety green surface, as if someone hadn’t yet finished a game. A cue stick leaned against the edge of the table. I picked up one of the balls, lucky number 7, and turned it over. The initials AW had been painted on the other side in Gothic green lettering. Curious, I checked a few more. Except for one other ball, they all seemed to have the normal Wackerson Academy logo. This was too interesting to pass up. I pocketed the special pool ball, hoping it wouldn’t be missed for a little while.

I walked forward to open the door. Muffled voices echoed from out in the hall. Holding my breath, I stood with my hand poised over the doorknob. The voices grew louder as the people came closer. The sound of shoes smacking against the floor accompanied the voices, followed by the swish of trouser fabric brushing together from brisk leg movement.

“Sir, the silent alarm was triggered.”

I closed my eyes.
Crap.

“You know what to do,” a gruff voice answered. “Have your men secure the exits and search all floors. Probably just some punk acting on a dare. When you find the kid, bring ’em to me.”

“Will do, sir.”

The sound of marching shoes faded away from the door. I could hear one of Wackerson’s men giving directions as others spread out to search for the “punk.” As for the leader, his heavy footsteps slowly paced the floor. He had to be standing a few feet away from the door. I held my breath, willing him to leave. After a few minutes it worked. He slowly walked away, whistling.

I counted to ten before cautiously opening the door, sticking my head out to make sure the coast was clear. Luckily, no one seemed to have remembered to search this particular hallway. I ducked back inside the billiard room and picked up the pool cue from the table, breaking it in half against my knee with as much force as I could muster. New weapons in hand, I crept out of the room, deciding to walk down the hallway and deal with whatever obstacle came across along the way.

A dim chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting strange shadows on the walls. I moved swiftly, the mysterious rooms losing their charm quickly. I was ready to get out of there.

The hallway eventually opened to a large room. With rich tapestries hanging from the walls and floor-length windows revealing the nighttime landscape, it strongly resembled a ballroom. Just like the hallway, this room featured dimly lit chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, casting the room in honey-colored light.