Chapter 8
The last shuttle bus pulled away at ten past two the next afternoon.
The counselors all stood in a loose line at the edge of the drop-off area and watched it go. A hundred kids had dwindled over the course of the morning to a trickle, and then to this, the final vehicle rounding the bend in the pine-lined drive before disappearing from view.
The departure had been organized with impressive efficiency given the circumstances, which I suspected said less about the administrative capabilities of the staff and more about how urgently the wealthy parents wanted their children removed from a site that had just been declared geologically unstable.
Several had declined the shuttle services and arrived within hours of Director Mabry's calls, driving up from the city in vehicles that cost more than most people's annual salaries.
None of them had been happy about the sudden closure, and a few had been straight-up vicious. Mabry had absorbed it all with the same careful composure she brought to everything, shaking hands and fielding comments that would’ve made most people walk off the job on the spot.
I'd caught fragments of it in passing.
‘Do you have any idea what we paid for this summer?’ and ‘My daughter is absolutely devastated!’ and one extremely unpleasant exchange with a man in a golf shirt who seemed to hold Mabry personally responsible for the geological composition of the Adirondacks.
By the time the last shuttle cleared the drive, the poor woman looked like she’d been wrung out and left to dry. She stood for a moment with her back to us, watching the empty road. Then she turned around.
Whatever composure she'd been holding onto through the morning had thinned considerably. Her eyes were bright in a way that suggested she was on the verge of tears, and the lines around her mouth were deeper than they'd been two days ago.
“Well,” she said, voice coming out slightly rougher than usual. She cleared her throat and attempted to adopt a more neutral expression. “Thank you all for your patience over the last twenty-four hours. I know it hasn't been easy.”
Around me, the other counselors stood in the afternoon light looking exhausted, deflated, and uncertain. Nobody said anything.
“We need to start on the shutdown procedures now,” Mabry continued. “Most of it can be completed over the next four to five hours, and then you're all free to go. Though of course you’re all welcome to stay the night and leave in the morning if that’s more convenient.”
She looked down at the clipboard in her hand for a second, and her expression shifted to outright weariness.
“I'll be honest with you,” she said. “This has been one of the most difficult experiences of my professional life. The calls alone…” She stopped and pressed her lips together briefly. “Suffice to say I'll be giving serious thought to my future here over the coming weeks.”
A few people exchanged glances.
Then Rhys stepped forward. “Why don’t you just leave it to us?” he said, vaguely gesturing to the gathered counselors. “Most of us have done it several times before, so we don’t actually need you. You should go home, pour yourself a stiff drink, and try to relax.”
A faint smile curved up her lips. “That’s a very tempting offer, but I can’t ask you to do that for me.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” Rhys turned to face the rest of us. “You guys are too, right?”
The rest of us nodded and murmured our agreement, and Sutton stepped forward with a simpering smile.
“We’ve got you, Linda,” she said, clearly not wanting to miss the opportunity to remind the rest of us that they were on a first-name basis.
“We’ll send you a text or email to let you know when it’s all done, just so you know that everything went okay. ”
Jasmine took a step forward. “You really do deserve it,” she said. “We’ve seen and heard everything you’ve had to put up with over the last day, and honestly, I don’t know how you managed it.”
Director Mabry rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. Then she finally looked up, nodding slowly. “Thanks, everyone. Really. Thank you so much.” She paused for another deep breath before continuing. “I suppose I’ll go and pack my things.”
She handed a clipboard with the shutdown paperwork to Sutton before heading off with a tired smile and a wave.
With a sigh, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I’d been putting this off for the last twenty-four hours, hoping for some miracle to come along, but I knew it was time to face the music and text Peter to let him know our secret investigation was going to be a bust.
“Nuh-uh!” Sutton snapped her fingers. “Phones away, everyone! Let’s get this shutdown done and dusted, and then you can all text to your heart’s content! Got it?”
Grace spoke up. “I just want to—”
“Later, Grace,” Sutton snapped.
Jasmine slipped her phone back in her pocket, looking over at me with an eyeroll. I did the same, actually welcoming the reprieve from having to text Peter.
A few hours later, the shutdown was done. While we’d worked through our assigned tasks, the rest of the staff had filtered out one by one—the admin assistants, cooks, nurse, activity specialists, groundskeeper—until only the counselors remained.
The camp looked wrong now. Not abandoned exactly, but suspended.
The usual background noise of voices and movement had been replaced by a heavy, echoing quiet that made every small sound feel intrusive.
A door closing somewhere carried farther than it should have, and footsteps crunched too loudly against gravel paths that had seen a hundred pairs of sneakers just that morning.
After Sutton gave us all the thumbs-up of approval, Jasmine and I walked back to our cabin side by side.
“Well,” she said. “This sucks balls.”
I let out a quiet huff of amusement. “Yeah. It really does.”
“My mom is going to be so pissed. She thought she’d have the next six weeks alone with her new boyfriend.”
“Damn.”
We reached the cabin, and Jasmine pushed the door open, stepping inside ahead of me. The space felt noticeably larger without the girls and their belongings in it, beds stripped down to bare mattresses in neat rows.
“God, this is actually so depressing,” Jasmine muttered, dropping onto the edge of her bunk.
“Yeah,” I said softly, setting my duffel bag on my own bed. “It is.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, with a small sigh, Jasmine pushed herself back to her feet. “All right, let’s pack before I lose all motivation and just lie here staring at the ceiling for the next three hours.”
I unzipped my bag and started gathering my things. The process was almost mindless, but my thoughts were anything but quiet.
This wasn’t how Camp Blackpine was supposed to go.
I was meant to have six full weeks here. Six weeks to watch everyone, ask the right questions, and wait for someone to finally slip up so I could figure out what really happened to Carly Martin and whether Peter’s theory of negligence and a cover-up actually held any water.
And now… I had nothing.
With a sigh, I pulled my phone out again and composed a text.
Not sure if you’ve already heard, but camp has been shut down for the summer, and everyone’s going home. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I’m on the road and give you all the details. – A
I took a deep breath and hit send. A little red cross appeared instantly. Sending failed.
My eyes flicked to the top corner of the screen. No service.
I groaned. “Ugh.”
Jasmine glanced up at me. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got no signal,” I said. “It’s weird. I haven’t had a problem with it before now.”
She made a face. “Service can get kinda spotty out here sometimes. Depends on your network.” She pulled out her phone and tossed it over to me. “Just use mine. I’m with Northgate. They hardly ever have issues.”
I unlocked her phone and frowned. “Nope, looks like you’ve got nothing either.”
“Seriously?” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s try going outside. Maybe that’ll help.”
We left our bags where they were and headed out, walking up the path toward the assembly hall with our phones raised in front of us.
“I’m still getting nothing,” Jasmine grumbled. “You?”
“Same.”
As we drew closer to the hall, we spotted a handful of other counselors pacing and waving their phones around. A few had their bags with them, clearly planning to leave soon.
“Hey, guys,” Jasmine called out as we approached. “Are you having trouble with service too?”
“Yup,” someone replied. “Maybe the nearest cell tower’s down?”
“Yeah, someone could’ve crashed into it or something,” someone else added.
More people drifted over until most of the counselors were gathered on the lawn, a low buzz of confusion building.
“What the hell is going on?” Sutton said sharply, eyes narrowed on her phone. “Does anyone know?”
“Nope,” Jesse replied, shrugging.
“It’s so weird. I texted Linda twenty minutes ago to tell her we finished the shutdown, so obviously everything was fine then. But then it suddenly went dead thirty seconds later.”
Grace nodded. “I was literally just about to text Hayden when it died. Now I can’t even tell him I’m coming home soon.”
“Just call him from one of the landline phones,” Jasmine said, jerking her thumb toward the building containing all the staff offices. “They should be working fine.”
Grace nodded and headed inside, followed by a few others. The rest of us lingered, watching our screens like something might flicker back to life if we stared hard enough.
I briefly glanced over at Rhys, who was standing with some of the other Legacy guys. He wasn’t swearing at his phone or looking pissed like the rest of them, but that actually tracked. He didn’t really seem like the type to care about something like bad reception.
“Um… guys?” Grace’s voice suddenly rang out, and we all turned to look at her. “The landline phones are down too.”
A ripple of unease moved through the group.
“What do you mean?” Sutton asked. “Like, the lines have been cut?”
One of the guys who’d accompanied Grace inside shook his head. “The lines are fine. There’s just… nothing. No dial tone. It’s dead.”
“What the fuck?” Jasmine muttered.
“Maybe they shut off all the networks around here because of the environmental thing,” a guy named Cole said. “Like, some kind of safety protocol.”
Several people started talking over each other, theories quickly piling up.
A couple of minutes later, Maren rolled her eyes and snorted. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “I’m outta here.”
She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and turned on her heel. No one stopped her.
I watched as she strode over to the path that led toward the parking area on the other side of the campgrounds, her pace quick and purposeful, until she disappeared from view.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then a sharp, frustrated shriek cut through the air.
Everyone froze.
“What the hell was that?” someone said.
“Maren, obviously,” Sutton snapped.
We all started toward the parking area, but before we even made it halfway across the lawn, Maren came sprinting back toward us. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide with something that looked like a mix of anger and fear.
“We can’t leave!” she shouted as she drew closer.
“Why not?” Jasmine asked.
Maren shook her head, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.
“We can’t leave,” she repeated. Her gaze swept across all of us, wild and disbelieving. “We’re trapped!”