Chapter 19
Somehow, over the course of that night, we developed a plan. A decent plan. A plan that just might work. Cameron crashed on my couch, and we woke up after just a few hours of sleep, making the trek out to the camp while the sky was still dark.
Neither of us said much on the ride. I leaned back in the passenger seat, looking out the window as the suburbs led to the highway, which led into farmland, which led into a mountainous region covered in tall trees. I alternated between sighing and cracking my knuckles. This was it. After all the pain and confusion of the last two weeks, it was time to solve this mystery.
Dawn was breaking as we snaked through a forest and stopped at a dirt side road. Camp Freedom would be at the end of it. “We’re going to have to find a place to park,” Cameron said. “The gate to the place is about half a mile ahead, and if they see us driving up it’s going to make our mission much, much harder.”
We found a small clearing at the side of the road and left the car there, then headed through the forest on foot, our supplies in backpacks. The cresting sun had not yet broken through the woods, and we both walked into a few branches and tripped on roots and stumps on our way.
The sky was a bit brighter as we reached a clearing, leading to a drop in the earth, where Camp Freedom lay. While I'd known what to expect from all the maps I'd gone over, I was still taken back by how massive the place was. The camp’s website had said it covered 25 acres, but either it had measured wrong or my understanding of what an “acre” is was completely off. The camp was sprawling: from my position above, standing north of it, I could see the cluster of cabins and a flagpole to the west; the large administrative building and mess hall to the east; a variety of activities, including a basketball course, rock-climbing wall and soccer field to the south; and a massive chapel with a big cross on top in the north, closest to me. All of it surrounded a large pond in the middle of the area, with two docks and several paddle boats and canoes tied to them. It looked like any summer camp, save for the fact that it was surrounded by high fences and barbed wire. That removed a lot of its friendliness.
“What time is it?” Cameron asked.
I checked my watch. “Six twenty. They’ll be waking up in ten minutes. Five minutes later they’ll be out at the flagpole. That’s when we have to strike.”
He pulled out his phone. “I can’t get a signal.”
I nodded. “Some of the sites said that the camp used cell-blocking devices. Guess we’re going in on this one blind. I’ll wait for you to make your diversion, and then I’ll make my move on Josh.”
“Fine by me. Good luck. I’ll see you back at the car.” We parted ways, him heading to the east side of the camp, me to the west. I crept along the edge of the trees until I was at the closest point to the flagpole, about a hundred feet away, with the fence right in the middle. I removed my backpack from my shoulders and pulled out a set of branch cutters from it. We’d used them to cut down parts of the tree in our front lawn earlier in the year when it was threatening to grow right onto the power lines. If they could cut branches several inches thick, they’d have no issue with a chain-link fence.
I checked my watch again. 6:28. The teens would be woken up in less than two minutes. I felt my heart rate pick up. I’d been putting myself through way too many of these adventures as of late. Not that I intended for these to go on any longer. I was going to get Josh and put an end to this madness.
Josh. He was only a few feet away. I’d been so focused on the camp and the plan that I’d forgotten that he was just minutes away from being back in my arms. I focused on the fence twenty feet down, choosing every link I was about to cut. Distraction. Snip, snip, snip. Run. Grab. Run. Run more. Get in car. Drive off cuddling in the backseat. Wouldn’t take more than ten minutes. We just had to get it right.
BA BA BADA!
There it was—the wakeup horn, playing through the loudspeakers. A bunch of floodlights came on, illuminating the still-dusky area. I waited.
Kids began to stumble out of the cabins, all of them wearing what resembled military fatigues and sporting buzz cuts for the boys and shoulder-length hair for the girls. Damn it, had they cut Josh’s hair?
More “campers” were coming out now, though I still couldn’t see Josh. Even with short hair—hell, no hair—I was certain I could recognize him from a mile away. So where was he?
A woman, also dressed in fatigues but wearing a hat as well, approached the group. She saluted, and they saluted her back. “Are all present and accounted for?” she asked/shouted. Her question was met with a firm “Yes ma’am!” from the teens.
It was like I’d just been punched in the gut. Where the fuck was Josh? Had we been wrong this whole time? Had Luke lied to me? Oh God, I’d trusted him too much. Maybe Camp Freedom was one of the places they’d considered sending him but had ultimately decided on something else. Was this just a diversion? Was I really no closer than when I’d began? Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit.
The group began singing the national anthem, as two of the campers unfolded flag and began to raise it. Panic flooded my mind. I was so close. So damn close.
They were halfway through the anthem when all the spotlights went out, plunging the camp into dimness. Seconds later, a series of explosions sounded from the east side of the walls. A bunch of confused shouts and screams came from the campers. Through a loud walkie-talkie I heard a man’s voice, “What the hell was that? Where’s our power?”
My mind was split right down the middle. On one side was a voice telling me to pack it in and meet Cameron back at the car, that I’d done all I could and was going to have to regroup, perhaps with another interrogation of Luke. On the other side, a much more aggressive voice was telling me to go for it, to burn off all the adrenaline and frustration that had built up inside me and see if there were any chances Josh could actually be on the premises. I could get in and out in a minute. It’s the only way I could know for sure.
“Screw it,” I muttered. I took off running from my safety in the woods, down the hill, towards the fence. I fell to my knees as I reached it and began to cut the links. Snip. Snip. Snip. They broke with complete ease, and within fifteen seconds I had an opening wide enough for me to easily fit through. I did just that, unnoticed by the campers, who were still panicking at the sudden explosion and disruption of power. I could see the woman running off, towards the sound of the blast. That gave me the exact opportunity I needed.
“Hey.” I approached a guy who looked to be close to Josh’s age. He spun around and nearly jumped in surprise.
“Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m looking for someone. A guy named Josh.”
His eyes darted around wildly, going to every place except my own. “I don’t know—you shouldn’t be here. How did you get here anyway?” His head turned away, and I saw a long scar along his left cheek, one that looked like it hadn’t had a lot of time to heal. “Or are you with the Major? I haven’t seen Josh in days!”
So, Josh was there. Good. I grabbed his shoulders. He winced but didn’t pull back. “I’m not with the Major. I came through that hole in the fence.” I pointed behind me.
Now he pulled away from me. “That leads out? That’s a way out of here?” He took a step towards the fence and raised his voice. “Look! We can escape!”
I grabbed his wrist. “Fine, do that, but first tell me where Josh is.”
He looked at me hesitantly. “He was put in The Font two days ago. They said he’s not coming out until the Major gets back.”
“Shit.” I let go of him and looked east, to the administrative building, as an overwhelming sense of dread came over me.
When I’d looked through Kyle’s research on the camp, I was presented with a variety of stories and tales, many of which conflicted with each other, but in every website, blog entry and Facebook group, there was one flowing thread: The Font. Previous campers had described it as “hell in earth,” “not fit for terrorists,” and “wrong in every possible way.” It was Camp Freedom’s place of solitary confinement, supposedly designed to give campers who’d been acting out a place to vent and cool off, but in fact it was a dark, cramped closet buried in the ground, which was bad enough before the Major showed up. Multiple stories talked of abuse—physical, mental, emotional, and especially sexual—at his hands had filled the pages. It was something that government visits had never uncovered, but why would they? It was designed to not be found.
My information source began running to the hole in the fence. A few others saw him and followed. I took the opposite direction, heading toward the cabins, keeping my head up for any of the staff. Josh was here, and I wasn’t leaving without him. Even if I had to burn the whole goddamn place down.