Camp Slasher: A gory dark horror novel by Dan Padavona

Author:Dan Padavona [Padavona, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-17T20:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Someone at the Door

“Don't you know how to turn it on?”

A-Train grinned at Brie's double entendre as he adjusted the ham radio. He’d felt salacious for the better part of the evening, and seeing Brie a little sweaty and out of breath lit a fire below.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “This has never happened to me before.”

She punched him surprisingly hard on his shoulder and made him flinch.

“Stay focused,” she said.

If only it were that easy. He hadn’t gotten Brie into bed since arriving at Camp Black Bear, and though he’d slept with her—well, beside her—Sarah, the prudish redhead, had dozed one bunk below them.

What was it with Sarah, anyhow? The girl seemed nice enough the first time they met, but now she had a Jones for the convict kid, even defended the criminal when all A-Train wanted to do was keep everyone safe. Bitches like Sarah made no sense.

He switched the power off, then on again. Then he altered the squelch and scanned for a signal.

“You obviously have no idea what you're doing,” she said. “I thought Kirby trained you.”

“He did.”

He growled, frustrated.

“So you forgot how to talk to other people. That kinda defeats the radio’s purpose.”

What she failed to realize was the radio wasn't working at all. He should have heard something by now, even if it was only two nerdy kids testing the reception. It seemed the ham radio was dead.

A-Train squeezed behind the cluttered desk and checked the cables. The antenna connection was secure, but the power cable was gone. First, the food was stolen, now the cord. All this began when the convict arrived.

One thing he was certain of: Kirby was incompetent. The fool couldn’t sell lemonade in a desert.

Dropping onto all fours, he crawled under the desk while Brie giggled at him.

His stomach rumbled again. He thought he could make it through the night, but if breakfast didn't show up by morning there would be a serious problem. Standing too fast, he conked his head on the desk, and that got her laughing harder.

“Very funny,” he said, rubbing the top of his head. He could already feel a lump. “I don't see you doing much to help.”

“Okay.” She swiped a hand over her face in a pantomime of seriousness. “Tell me how I can help.”

“For starters, you can help me find the power cord to the radio.”

“What does it look like?”

“Hell, it looks like a power cord. What do you think it looks like?”

A portable radio and CD player lay in the corner. He compared the CD player’s cord with the missing one, found it wasn’t a match, and consented to Brie turning on music. The FM dial yielded a country station awash with static and a bubblegum pop channel out of Ithaca. She settled on the horrible bubblegum, not exactly classic rhythm-and-blues, but preferable to songs about dead horses and beer and friends in low places.

“Don’t turn it up so loud,” A-Train said. “We won’t hear Kirby return.”

“What?”

Bass thumped against the walls.

“Exactly.”

A few minutes of fruitless searching proved the cord was gone.

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