Camp Lore - 47. Chapter 47

Brian walked back into the bunk to a hero’s welcome. The guys were still playing cards as promised – except for Nate, who was dozing on Steve’s bed. But they all got to their feet and started whooping and clapping when Brian and I walked in. And they each wanted to shake his hand – none of our high school high fives would do.

“Welcome to Camp Seneca,” Dan finally crowed. “You’re one of us now.”

Brian laughed. “And what was I all summer?”

“On approval.”

“Borderline approval.”

“Thin ice – if we had ice.”

“Just for the beer.”

“Subject to return at any moment”

“Now you’re as good as tattooed.”

“Then what does that make me?” I put in.

“An outsider,” Brian cracked.

And everyone laughed.

“Are you okay?” Steve soon asked Brian, a bit more seriously.

“Sure,” Brian said, grinning. “Still a little drunk – well, more than a little. I keep seeing things that aren’t really there.”

“Like mysterious islands?” Paul joked.

“Dangerous waters?”

“Seductive women?”

“He’d say ‘sirens’ if he knew what sirens were,” Nate snapped.

Paul – predictably – screamed. “Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!” like a fire engine.

Brian steered away from it all. “And I’m gonna be sore in the morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Well, when I wake up.”

“Which won’t happen if we don’t get to sleep,” Nate reminded us.

“Says the guy who’s been racked out for the last hour,” Jim poked.

“Was I really gone that long?” I asked.

“Probably not,” Jim admitted. “But I’ve been losing ever since. That makes it seem longer.”

“Nate’s right – let’s get to bed,” Steve said, gathering the cards.

Paul helped with the chips. Paul stashed the full beer cans in the fridge and trashed the empties. Greg started towards our half of the bunk.

“Hey, guys! I still have these bracelets on,” Brian protested.

Dan looked at them and quipped, “They look good on you. Maybe you’ll start a fad.”

“You really don’t have the keys?” Brian asked.

Dan kind of grinned apologetically. “Not that we’ve been able to figure.”

“And we worked on it a lot.”

“We were hoping Rob would find them.”

“No luck,” I admitted. “Sorry.”

“We’re gonna have to cut them off,” Nate admitted.

“With what?” Brian asked.

“The bolt cutters.”

“Them again? Will they really do it?”

“We’ll find out.”

“I love being a test dummy.”

The cutters were sitting on Steve’s bed, where I’d dropped them when everyone started to clap. I wanted my hands free, too.

“It’s gonna wreck your cuffs,” Brian warned Dan.

“They’re already a loss. And they only cost a couple of bucks.”

“Best investment you’ve made – even if they did snap back at you,” Jim joked.

“Once,” Dan insisted. “And I got off easy. Brian got it worse.”

“He deserved worse.”

“Nah, you can always blame Dan for something,” Paul started. “Remember when...”

“Uh – the cuffs guys,” Brian reminded them.

“Oh, yeah,” Paul agreed. “Guess we should do something about them. What’ll you pay us?”

And everyone laughed.

Nate quickly took charge, got the bolt cutters from Steve’s bed, and sat Brian at the table.

“Now lie your hand flat, move the cuff to the narrowest part of your wrist, and let me see if I can get around the thin part.”

“Of the cuff?” Brian confirmed.

“Yeah. I’m not a doctor, and this isn’t the Civil War,

“You ever done this before?” Brian went on.

“Just with locks,” Nate said, concentrating. “But some of them were pretty tough.”

“I got through the chain pretty easily,” I added.

“The chain’s thin compared to the cuff,” Dan pointed out. “Even where it’s only single.”

Nate’s tongue was soon sticking out a little between his lips, as he focused. He had the cutters in place and tried to push the handles together, but they wouldn’t go – he didn’t have enough force. So he rearranged Brian’s wrist and the cuff on the table, braced one handle of the bolt cutter on the table to give him more leverage, and pushed down hard on the other. When that still didn’t do it, Paul leaned over and added his weight and pressure.

The cuff gave. We all cheered.

“Success!” Paul yelled.

“How’s your wrist?” I asked Brian.

He wriggled his fingers and twisted his wrist left and right.

“Still there,” he pronounced. And he laughed – predictably relieved.

“One to go.”

“Room for one more,” Greg evilly intoned, like Death in a cartoon, holding up one crooked finger.

“That’s right – scare the guy,” Jim said. “Like we haven’t wrecked him enough.”

This cuff was a bit tighter, so it took Nate longer to get the cutters in place. But again, he braced them on the table, and this time, he, Paul, and Jim pushed down, and the cuff snapped immediately. Brian opened and closed both his fists and rotated both wrists at the same time. Then he grinned.

“Thanks – all of you.”

“Mess you up. Fix you up,” Paul said, laughing.

“Stockholm Syndrome," Nate added, shaking his head. “Thank your tormentors.”

“Where do you get this junk?” Dan asked.

“From listening when the teachers digress.”

“You think I don’t know that word, don’t you?”

“I wish these cuffs still worked,” Nate snapped.

And the rest of us were laughing.

“Night, guys,” Brian said, heading towards his bed. “See you in – what? – four hours?”

“Less.”

“Jeez.”

“So now you can tell time,” Nate kidded Jim.

Steve simply turned off the overhead light, to end things, and the guys navigated by the light from the hall. I turned that off as I crossed to our half of the bunk, and Greg had already turned off our top light. But there was enough coming in from outside for us to see.

“You’re really okay,” he asked Brian quietly, as they got into their beds.

“Ask me when I see what my head feels like later.”

“But the rest of it? No hard feelings?”

Brian simply laughed.

“Nah. It’s the best joke that’s ever been played on me. I’ll never forget.”

“Then we’ll spare you on Saturday Night.”

“No. Don’t. I’m one of you now, remember?”