#camp redwood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smileygoth · 2 years

Text

Hellcheer at Redwood - Part One (Stranger Things / AHS 1984)

So after watching Stranger Things season 4 for like the tenth time I decided to continue my 80s nostalgia by watching American Horror Story: 1984. And of course my obsessed like brain had to put the two together!!! Please be informed that I'm not as familiar with AHS:1984 as I am with ST4, so while I have tried to keep to the plot of the show, exact details of scenes may vary. But it's all a bit of fun anyway, so I hope that doesn't bother you!

Here's part one - mostly introducing the characters and setting the scene. I'm anticipating it being about five parts long, but we'll see.

Word Count: 2451 words

CW: Underage drinking, a little misogyny. Spoilers for episode 1 of AHS: 1984.

Images courtesy of FX and Netflix and smushed together by me!

Part One

1986

“You know, this isn’t the first time we’ve … hung out.”

“No?”

1984

Eddie stepped out of the cab and looked up at the big wooden gate, the sign at the top proudly proclaiming: ‘Welcome to Camp Redwood’. Hefting his backpack onto his shoulder, he sighed and scuffed the dirt with his boot as the cab pulled away, leaving him there. Other than swapping his sneakers for sturdy hiking boots (at his uncle’s strong suggestion), he’d made absolutely zero concessions toward spending a summer out in the woods. He didn’t want to be here, and he wanted everyone to know it. Moodily, he trudged up the path that led into the camp.

Not far in, the path turned a corner and he could see a group of people, mostly teenagers perhaps a little older than him, sitting and standing around, waiting. He eyed them warily. Who this group consisted of would determine how shitty this summer was going to be. He saw a prissy looking girl with dark hair, nervously clutching her pack (do-gooder, he instantly thought); a girl with voluminous blonde hair wearing a blue denim jacket not totally dissimilar to his vest (hot, potentially cool); a tall, blonde, ridiculously attractive guy who looked like he’s stepped straight off the pages of Seventeen magazine (probably gay); an older guy with a moustache who looked like he’d stepped straight off the pages of a porno mag (total hound); an older woman with her hair pinned neatly up, smoking a cigarette (clearly doesn’t want to be here either); and two sporty looking guys (jocks, steer clear).

He also saw a second blonde girl, sitting a little apart from the group using her backpack as a seat. Her hair wasn’t big and teased like the other blonde’s; it was done up in a perky little ponytail. He looked her over closely as he approached. The blue jeans and plain white shirt had thrown him off at first, but now he recognised her: Chrissy Cunningham, one of the girls on the cheerleader squad at Hawkins High. What was she doing all the way out here? Surely she couldn’t be here for the same reason he was?

As he stared, she glanced up at him. She showed no sign of recognising him as she gave a slight smile and looked away. That stung, but only a little. There was no real reason why she should recognise him. Freaks and cheerleaders didn’t exactly run in the same circles.

The moustache guy looked up as Eddie joined them. “Hey, you another counsellor?” he asked, tone friendly but unsmiling. Eddie nodded.

“You don’t look like the counsellor type,” Mr Hot Blonde Guy said, lip curling up in a smirk.

“Neither do you,” Eddie shot back.

“Leave him alone, X.” The hot blonde girl stood up from her seat on a fallen log and wandered over. Now that she stood up, Eddie could see the leopard print dress and knee high boots she was wearing. Definitely hot. “My name’s Montana,” she said, putting out her hand to him.

He took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Cool name,” he said. “I’m Eddie.”

Montana smiled. “Like Iron Maiden’s Eddie?”

Eddie’s smile widened. “You like Iron Maiden?”

She shrugged. “Some.” Turning back to the group, she started pointing people out. “That’s Xavier,” she said, pointing to the blonde guy. “He’s a bit of a bitch, but he’s okay deep down. Those two -” The jocks – “Are Chet and Ray. Chet failed at getting into the Olympics, and that’s probably all he’s going to talk about all summer, so be warned.”

“Fuck you, Montana!” Chet shouted angrily.

She ignored him. “This one is Brooke,” she said, indicating the dark-haired girl, who gave him a friendly if uncertain smile. “She’s studying to be a veterinarian! Super exciting! These two -” She waved at Chrissy and the moustache guy – “I don’t know. And that lady over there is Nurse Rita, who is supposed to be doing the meeting and greeting while we wait for the lady who runs the show to turn up.”

Rita turned her head enough to give Montana a cool glare, then went back to her cigarette without saying anything.

Eddie bit back another sigh. He didn’t have a great feeling about this.

As if in response to his thought, a short blonde woman with her hair styled in 70s-esque flicks came striding down the path toward them from deeper in the camp. She was wearing khaki shorts and vest over a white shirt and looked at them through a huge pair of glasses. Eddie’s heart sank as she approached.

“Good afternoon, campers!” she cried cheerily. “My name is Margaret Booth, and I am the owner and proprietor of Camp Redwood! Thank you all for coming, we have a busy summer ahead of us and the kiddies are showing up first thing in the morning, so let’s get right into it and get you all set up! Follow me and I’ll show you to your bunks so you drop off those heavy bags.”

She turned, whip-fast, and started walking away again. The group hurriedly scrabbled to hoist their bags onto their shoulders and follow – all except Nurse Rita, who wandered after Margaret as if she couldn’t care less.

The tour of the camp was brief. First they were shown their bunks (“Boys and girls sleep separately, this is a good Christian organisation,” Margaret had said, to much rolling of the eyes from the others), then Margaret led them round the other areas of camp. Rita peeled off from the group when they got to the infirmary. Eddie tried hard to memorise which trail led to which – showers (“Boys in the evening, girls in the morning, no exceptions, cleanliness is next to Godliness”), kitchens, lake, boathouse. He could easily imagine getting lost out here at night when he couldn’t read the little wooden signposts. Then, finally, they stopped at a round firepit in the centre of the camp. By this point the sun was already going down.

“You’ll want to get yourself settled,” Margaret said. “Bertie, our cook, will be serving up supper in an hour or so. Then you’ve got the evening to get to know each other. No alcohol or drugs are permitted on site, so if you brought them, keep them in your bags. And boys, don’t forget to shower.” She smiled. “I’ll see you at supper!”

>>>>>>

Supper was … interesting. Margaret took it as an opportunity to drill the camp rules into them all – no sex, no booze, no drugs, no cohabiting between sexes, who showers when, blah blah blah – so none of them really had a chance to talk to each other. However, the cook, Bertie, seemed to be pretty chill, and her meatloaf was excellent. Eddie was feeling full and lazy and considering just crashing in his bunk when Xavier sidled up to him as he was putting his tray through the kitchen hatch.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said, smiling. “Montana’s right, I can be a bitch. It comes with the territory.”

“What territory?” Eddie asked, bracing himself for some joke.

“Being an actor,” Xavier replied. “Or trying to be. You need a thick skin, and I guess it’s a defence mechanism to bite first before I’m bitten. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He shrugged nonchalantly, though to Eddie it looked like an act. “We’re all getting together at the firepit now if you want to join us. You know, get to know the team?”

Begrudgingly, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Xavier smiled, a little more genuinely this time. “Awesome! Well then, let’s go! Oh, and …” He lowered his voice. “Watch out for Montana. She’s into bad boys.”

“What makes you think I’m a bad boy?”

Xavier laughed. “The long hair, the ripped jeans, the metal patches? If you’re not a rebel, you’re trying to look like one.”

“Shit,” Eddie smiled. “You’re onto me.”

Laughing, Xavier led him out of the kitchen, which was already empty except for Margaret and Bertie, and across to the firepit not too far away. The moustache guy was using a lighter to set a small bundle of wood alight in the stone circle in the centre of the ring of benches. Montana was staring at him with a weird look on her face. Brooke and Chrissy were sat close together, a little apart from everyone else, talking quietly; Chrissy was holding Brooke’s hand and nodding sympathetically at what Brooke was saying. Ray and Chet had already broken open a couple of six packs and were handing bottles of beer to everyone. To Eddie’s surprise, Nurse Rita was there with them, an open beer in her hand.

Eddie and Xavier joined the group, Eddie taking a seat next to Montana, who instantly switched her attention to him. He accepted a beer from Chet with a nod of thanks. Xavier remained standing, one foot on the stone rim of the firepit, his perfect face illuminated from below by the growing firelight. Eddie glanced at him with a twinge of jealousy. He looked like George Michael, posing there with his dangly earring and his perfect blonde hair. He bet he had no trouble getting dates … whatever his preference was. Eddie wished he could have half that confidence.

“Okay, so let’s do the introductions,” Xavier said, lifting his beer bottle. “So me, Montana, Chet, Ray and Brooke all came from LA. Getting away from the city while all this crazy Night Stalker shit goes down.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Brooke give a shiver. Chrissy put a comforting hand on her arm.

“Who are the rest of you?” Xavier continued. He looked at the moustache guy.

He grinned. “I’m Trevor, your activities director,” he replied. “Before this gig I was doing various jobs around LA, a bit of fitness, a bit of aerobics …”

Montana’s attention snapped back to Trevor, and she frowned like she was trying to remember something.

Xavier’s gaze fell on Eddie. “How about you, rock star?”

Eddie shrugged. “My name’s Eddie and I’m here doing community service,” he replied.

Montana smiled at him. “Ooh, you’re a bad boy?” she purred. “What did you do?”

Xavier mouthed ‘Told you’ at Eddie and grinned. Eddie smiled back. “Just dealing some dope,” he replied. “Got off light since technically I was a minor at the time.”

“Wait … how old are you?” Xavier asked.

Eddie bristled a little. “Eighteen,” he replied.

“Oh my God!” Montana squealed. “Baby boy! You’re not even old enough to drink!”

“Fuck off,” Eddie retorted, and took a swig from his beer. They all laughed. Then Xavier’s eyes turned to Chrissy.

“What about you, princess?” he asked.

Chrissy looked around nervously. “Um, my name’s Chrissy,” she said. “I’m here because my dad told me it’d look good on my college applications.”

“So how old are you?” Montana asked.

“I … I just turned seventeen last month,” Chrissy replied, her eyes darting from one person to another.

“Jailbait,” Trevor remarked with a snigger.

Eddie felt a sting of anger at that. He glared at the older man fiercely. Trevor noticed and his smirk vanished.

Xavier shrugged and grabbed another beer and put it into Chrissy’s empty hand. “Whatever,” he said. “What happens in Redwood stays in Redwood.” The others all laughed and cheered at this, raising their bottles in a toast. “However!” Xavier went on, raising his voice again, “If anyone is anything less than a perfect gentleman to these lovely ladies – unless they request otherwise, of course – I will personally kick your ass.” He gave a pointed look to Trevor, who snorted scornfully.

“So,” Ray said, leaning forward into the light cast by the fire. “Has anyone actually been a camp counsellor before?”

They all shook their heads.

“None of us?” Ray looked surprised.

Rita spoke up. “You don’t think they’d be able to get qualified staff after what happened here, do you?” she said. “They all know better than to come to this place.”

They all looked around at each other. “What happened here?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, come on,” Xavier grumbled, retreating to sit on the bench next to Chrissy. “I know this is like a tradition and all, but I’m really not in the mood for some spooky haunted woods bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Rita insisted. “It’s true. And it wasn’t ghosts. It was Mr Jingles.”

Ray snorted. “Who?”

“Mr Jingles.” Rita paused and looked round at them all, as if checking that they were all listening. Then she continued.

“He worked as a groundskeeper here at Camp Redwood. Nobody knows why, but in the summer of 1970 he snapped and went on a rampage, killing ten innocent young people, right here in this forest. He took their ears as trophies.”

“Oh come on,” another voice called out from the shadows. A murmur rippled through the group around the fire as they all jumped, startled. Margaret strolled into the circle of light, casting a scornful glance at Rita. “If you’re going to tell a story, tell it right. He didn’t kill ten people. He killed nine.” Then with a sweep of her hand, she pushed back her hair on one side of her head, revealing the ugly scar where her left ear should have been.

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered, shocked.

Margaret fixed him with an icy stare. “I reopened this camp because I wanted to replace all the awful memories of this place with good ones … happier ones,” she said. “You’re all here to help me do that.” Stepping forward, she snatched the beer bottle from Ray’s hands. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d get rid of these, call it a night and go get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.” She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder as she went: “And boys, remember to shower.”

When she was gone, there was an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, Rita got to her feet. “Well, I guess that’s that,” she said, draining the rest of her beer. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And with that, she walked off into the darkness.

Brooke stood up next, closely followed by Chrissy. “She’s right,” Brooke said. “Goodnight.”

As they disappeared, Montana stood up. “Let’s go, guys,” she said. Ray, Chet and Xavier all got up and walked off with her in the direction of the bunkhouses. Only Eddie and Trevor were left. Trevor raised his eyebrows at Eddie and nodded in the direction Montana had taken.

Eddie scowled and got to his feet. “Night, Trevor,” he said, and made his way to the boys’ bunkhouse. What a sleaze.

10 notes · View notes

the-crimson · 7 months

Text

Aight thoughts on todays bbh lore cuz we got A LOT. Just stay with me through my nerding about trees it’ll be worth it XD

We pretty much got 100% confirmation that he is intentionally hurting Baghera and Forever and that he thinks of himself as expendable. What fascinates me the most is when Bad asked Foolish this

“Is there anything wrong with burning the forest to save the trees?”

At first glance you might think YES if u burn the forest then there won’t be any trees??!! However it is a custom on fire risk zones to create controlled fires that burn up brush and dead trees so that the risk of a natural and far more devastating fire is reduced. Additionally, if a fungus infects a forest, burning the infected trees may be the only way to prevent the spread to the rest of the forest.

On top of that, there is a specific type of tree species that requires fires in order to reproduce. These are often Pine trees that drop pinecones. Pinecones hold seeds inside them that only germinate when immense heat is applied to them: the heat of a forest fire. When they are within these temperatures, the seeds germinate and the pine cones pop, scattering the seeds on the forest floor. These trees adapted to form a symbiotic relationship with fire one of if not the most destructive natural forces on the earth.

Do you know one of the trees that has developed this adaption? Redwoods.

Do you know which tree bbh brought up when giving Jaiden a PINECONE gift for her birthday today? A Redwood.

I’m like actually going insane. This can’t be a coincidence right????? I’m not going crazy right???

The whole reason I noticed this scene is because I live near the redwood forests in California and I know all about the way these trees depend on fires for their survival. It’s something that’s always fascinated me. That’s when I assume Bad was going to ask foolish the above question before Jaiden and Teana cut their conversation short while they were talking on the Titian . He literally had these specific trees on his mind when he was going to ask about burning down the forest.

Let me tell you another thing about Redwood trees. They are ancient. They are massive. They are sturdy. Natural fires are a common phenomenon here and a majority of the redwoods survive with barely a scratch, maybe an inch or two of its outer bark scorched. Nothing it won’t grow past in a year or two when these trees easily live for 500+ years.

(Side note, if there is one place in America you should visit it’s the redwood forests of California. It is literally like entering a portal to another world. These trees are 10-15 ft in diameter easily and you can just feel how ancient the forests are. It’s one of my all time favorite places to go)

So, in the situation Bad is proposing, burning the forest to save the trees, he is actively thinking about Redwoods in this hypothetical. Not only trees that are extremely resistant to fire but trees that depend on fire to survive. That completely changes the way he is approaching this question.

In his hypothetical, the forest will burn. The animals will die. The brush and non redwoods will turn to ash. The land will be scarred and the trees themselves may look dead, branchless and black. But. But. A season will pass and new branches will peel through the charcoal. Seeds deep in the soil will surge forth as the soil is fed nutrients from the ash. Animals will return. Pinecones will shed their fertilized seeds to give birth to a new generation of trees. And by next year, the forest will look just as vibrant as it had before the fire. Trees may bear the scars of the flames but life continues and it continues and it continues always.

I might actually be going crazy bbh makes me crazy cc!bbh makes me crazy I’m losing my mind

277 notes · View notes

vintagecamping · 1 year

Text

Road trip through the redwoods

Northern California

1975

#vintage camping #campfire light #honda #northern califor #redwoods #road trips

409 notes · View notes

mochie85 · 9 months

Text

The Redwoods

Part 2 of my Wanderlust series.

One-shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: The first stop on your road trip through California to visit all the National Parks. And it's colder than you expected. Especially at night! Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Word Count: 773 (a drabble, really) Warnings: Fluff. Flirting. A/N: This is for @the-slumberparty's July Monthly Challenge. I picked prompt #9, Cuddling for Warmth.

Your teeth were rattling inside your mouth as you held your arms closer to you. The five layers of blankets and the two layers of hoodies and thermals couldn’t keep the cold from seeping through to you and settling into your bones.

It had been a week since graduation. It was already the beginning of June, but Summer comes late to California. The days were warm, and California nights can get extremely cold. Especially this far north and high in elevation.

“Nugget, if you don’t stop shaking, I’m going to assume you are not cut out for this and I’m gonna drive us both home. OW!” Bucky screamed as you kicked him underneath all the layers. You hated that nickname. It annoyed you so much when he reminded you of how short you were.

“Your feet are freezing, woman! Aren’t you wearing socks?” he scolded you.

“No!” you muffled, hiding underneath your wool scarf. Your toes went on the hunt, seeking his warm calf to seep all the heat from his body.

“Uh, uh. Nope! Stop! You are not-” he swatted your foot away. “You are not warming your icicle toes on me!” You giggled as he successfully kept you at bay on your side of the van.

The vintage Volkwagon Bus, that you managed to spruce up from the many ideas on your Pinterest boards, lacked insulation and calking. Bucky noted and whined as the two of you spent the last week sleeping in the back of the "ice cream truck," as Bucky had once called it.

“You’re lucky cuz Smokey decided to sleep next to you to keep you warm!” You said out loud.

“Ya, he sleeps next to me because he can’t get over how loud your teeth are rattling!” And as if he was agreeing, Smokey let out a small grunt growl.

“Traitor!” you sneered at your dog. Then you pouted, giving Bucky your saddest puppy eyes.

“Don’t!”

“I’m not doing anything!” you pouted some more.

“It’s not gonna work. Instead, what I’ll do- I’ll just drive us both home. Where we can sleep in our own beds. Watch Netflix on my flat screen instead of your iPad. And use indoor plumbing like a modern-day person would!”

Bucky was angry and you can tell. You didn’t think he would get so annoyed. Was that how he felt this whole time? It was only the first week of your two-month-long trip. Would he be like this for the rest of the time? Maybe he’ll give up and just leave you in the middle of the trip to go home.

You heard Bucky sigh and then groan in defeat. He watched you as you spiraled into your thoughts. Your face turned from a sad pout into a depressed frown, trying to mask the feelings you had inside.

The covers lifted, opening the small space in between you. “Get over here.”

You squealed as you rolled your way into his side, your back to his chest. “What are you 10?” he laughed.

“A lady doesn’t scoot!”

“Ha! But nuggets roll,” he mocked. Your feet sought his bare legs in revenge as he hissed inwardly at the contact from your cold touch.

“Hey, be nice! Be a good girl for me! I’m letting you steal my warmth here!” he growled into your ear.

His phrase caught you off guard. The low gravelly tone tickled something in you. It traveled all the way down to your aching core. Aching and neglected. And soon you didn’t need his body heat anymore. You were making your own! From the sheer bewilderment, you found yourself in.

When was the last time I had sex? Too long ago. That’s probably why you’re feeling this way. You can’t start thinking this way about Bucky! He’s your best friend.

“What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” He asked.

“Nothing. I’m just- I’m just trying to get cozy,” you said adjusting and wriggling your body to fit his. He grunted at your movement.

“The sooner you get comfy, the sooner we can all go to sleep!” he chided.

You finally relaxed in his embrace. You could feel the heat from his wide chest on your back keeping you warm and toasty. Soon, you found yourself drifting off to the sounds of his breathing.

You must’ve turned in your sleep. When you woke up that morning, the first thing you saw were Bucky’s sapphiric eyes, heavy with slumber, focused on your lips.

Just kiss me!

Lord, You did not just think that! OK! First things, first. As soon as you get home from this trip. You are finding yourself a boyfriend.

If you can survive Bucky, that is.

⬅️Wanderlust | Lassen Volcanic Park (Coming Soon)➡️

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid

107 notes · View notes

wayoutwest · 5 months

Text

Abandoned stories

Harry Snowden

#photographers on tumblr #pnw #original photography #harry snowden #redwood highway #northern california #camping

27 notes · View notes

bunjovibunny · 8 months

Text

We baçk from our camping 🏕️ trip, Frens. We all had a wonderful time in the Redwood Forests and Ruth Lake.

More videos and pictures to come!

#BunJovi

#california redwoods #forest #camping #bun jovi #rabbit #dog #pets #bunblr #nature #tent

37 notes · View notes

forestgreenivy · 2 years

Text

Deep in the forest getting lost amongst the redwoods.

Muir Woods, California

34 notes · View notes

this-emerald-lake · 1 year

Text

humboldt redwoods

#humboldt redwoods state park #redwoods #golden hour #moss #ferns #camping #lost coast #avenue of the giants

13 notes · View notes

otioseb · 1 year

Text

Redwoods.

#redwoods #camping #photography #film photography #film #california

8 notes · View notes

g0blin-interrupted · 1 year

Text

a good smol 🐌✨🌿

11 notes · View notes

hplonesomeart · 2 years

Text

Ayo I’m back from a short camping trip 😎

I didn’t take many photos, but here’s one of the Bill Cipher statue I visit every year lol

It was nice seeing him again <3

#update #travel #camping #camping trip #bill statute #redwood forest #yeeeee #man I missed tumblr when I was camping 🥺#it’s good to be back <3 #sorry about the weird angle of this photo btw #my family was with me and I was sort of self conscious about taking a photo of Bill around them <<#plus I’m short lol #hplonesome art

19 notes · View notes

smileygoth · 1 year

Text

Hellcheer at Redwood - Part Six (Stranger Things / AHS 1984)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

The final chapter! Eddie manages to escape Mr Jingles and circles back to find the others. But even what he's seen so far doesn't prepare him for the madness that awaits him ...

Word Count: 3,858 words.

CW: blood, violence, murder, swearing, spoilers for AHS 1984.

Image from known-as-the-woman here on Tumblr.

Eddie had never run so far for so long in his life. His legs were aching, his lungs were burning, and he was mentally cursing every cigarette he’d ever smoked. Every time he thought he’d lost his pursuer and dared to slow down, he’d hear the jingle of his keys some way behind him and would immediately speed up again. He was starting to feel a very real fear that he wasn’t going to get out of these woods alive.

At least Chrissy might be okay, he thought. Then: Oh great, you’ve sacrificed yourself for some cheerleader chick who didn’t even know you existed until this afternoon. You sure do pick your moments to do the right thing, Eds.

He was so busy berating himself that he didn’t realise he had come across the road until he literally fell onto it. His feet hit hard tarmac and, surprised at the change from soft, gripping mud, he stumbled and fell, bashing his knee hard on the way down. “Ow – shit!”

He scrambled to his feet and tried to keep running, but his knee protested, refusing to take his weight. Miserably, he hobbled across the road and dived into the undergrowth on the other side, hoping he could hide. He curled up as small as he could and peered out through the bushes at the road, waiting for Mr Jingles to emerge.

As he waited, he heard voices arguing – one of them sounded like Montana. He was about to get up and run to them when he saw movement in the other side of the road. The dark shape of Mr Jingles emerged, and he froze in place. His blood chilled as he waited for the killer to cross the road and find him.

But that didn’t happen. Mr Jingles stayed in the treeline on the other side of the road, waiting. Then the rough rumble of a motorcycle engine reached Eddie’s ears. It swelled, getting louder and closer, until it was almost on him. Eddie squinted through the bushes, trying to see what was going on.

The motorcycle roared past. In a flash, Eddie saw many things at once. He saw that it was Ray on the bike. He saw Mr Jingles step out and raise his arm, the glimmer of metal catching in the bike’s headlights. He saw a spray of blood as Ray’s head flew from his shoulders. He saw the head bounce on the tarmac twice before rolling into the bushes. He saw the bike, still carrying Ray’s body, waver and slow as it rolled through the gates of Camp Redwood, toppling over a hundred yards or so further on and spilling Ray to the floor.

What he didn’t see was where Mr Jingles went. He looked up from the sight of Ray’s decapitated body leaking blood across the road to see that the killer had vanished. He sat frozen for what seemed like an eternity, listening and hearing nothing. His eyes scoured the treeline for movement and saw none. A crawling feeling crept up and down his spine as he sat there, suddenly convinced that the second he stood up, Mr Jingles would be there to chop his head off too.

Eventually, as his legs started to cramp beneath him, Eddie’s eyes started to wander back to the motorcycle that now lay abandoned on the side of the road. It’s right there, his mind insisted on telling him. You could get to it in five seconds if you get up before your legs go numb. You could get on that thing and be out of here, home free. Go to he nearest town, call the cops and live another day.

He thought about it. He pictured himself doing it. But that would mean leaving Chrissy and the others behind with just one car to get them out, when the bike would take at least one more person, maybe two at a push. He pictured himself riding the bike out of there with Chrissy clinging to his back, and he felt a flush of pleasure at the idea. Big hero Eddie, riding out of danger with the girl. Nice fantasy, Eddie, now get real. You go back, you’re gonna die.

Eddie drummed his fingers on his knee in frustration as he tried to decide. Finally he muttered, “Ah, fuck it,” and stood up.

No one was around. No Mr Jingles to slice off his head like the dumb character in a fairy tale. He stepped onto the road cautiously, trying to look everywhere at once. And when Mr Jingles still didn’t appear, he set off at a fast limp, back into the camp.

He had no idea where anybody was. The woods seemed dense and silent, as if everything was smothered by a heavy blanket. Not knowing what else to do, he started to head back to the boathouse, where he had last seen anyone. Then he heard the unmistakeable sound of gunshots – three gunshots, close together, coming from Margaret’s cabin. He paused.

Jingles doesn’t use a gun, he thought. Maybe someone shot him.

The thought cheered him, and he headed in the direction of the gunshots, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. Eventually the cabin came into sight. Seeing movement and hearing voices inside, he crept up to a window and peered inside. What he saw was one of the last things he expected. Mr Jingles was lying on the floor, apparently dead, and that was good. But Margaret and Trevor were standing over him, and as Eddie peered over the window ledge Margaret thrust Jingles’ long knife deep into Trevor’s stomach. Aghast, Eddie watched as she said something – it sounded like “God has given me the strength to accept my true self” – and twist the knife upward before pulling it out. Trevor groaned in pain and collapsed to the floor. Eddie continued to watch as Margaret bent over and sliced off one of Trevor’s ears, then held it up and gazed at it with a contented smile.

That was enough for him. He dropped down, pressed his back against the side of the cabin, and tried to think. But he couldn’t get what he’d seen out of his head. Margaret was Jingles, his mind babbled. Not Jingles – she was Jingles, she was the killer, she massacred the camp in 1970! Jesus Christ, does that mean there’s three killers here now?

Nervously, he got up and poked his head up over the window ledge again to get another look inside. He nearly yelped in surprise when he saw what he had thought was the dead body of Mr Jingles get to his feet. He quickly ducked back down again. Rita’s not Rita, Margaret is Jingles, and more killers keep turning up?! What the fuck is going on?!

“Mm-mm, nope,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s it. I’m out.”

As quietly as he could, he crept away from the cabin, waiting until he was in the cover of the woods before he started to hurry. He didn’t know where he was going exactly, he just needed to get away from that cabin.

He hadn’t gotten far when the sky off to one side suddenly illuminated in fire and a low boom rattled the ground. Eddie spun to face it and saw a plume of fire rise up above the trees, then die down to be rapidly replaced by a smudge of dark smoke against the night sky. He hesitated, wondering if he should go towards it or run the hell away.

Then a hand clapped down heavily on his shoulder. He yelled in surprise and fear and spun away, raising a fist to punch out.

Xavier stood behind him, with Brooke at his side. Xavier was swaying unsteadily on his feet, his face and hands covered in ugly red blisters and weeping sores.

“Jesus H Christ!” Eddie exclaimed. “What happened to you?”

“Jingles,” Xavier muttered. “And he didn’t even have the decency to finish me off.”

Brooke shot him a disapproving glance. “What was that explosion?” she asked Eddie.

Eddie shrugged. “No idea, man. I just got here.”

Xavier sighed. “Come on,” he said, and started walking toward the explosion. Brooke and Eddie followed. As they walked, Xavier looked back over his shoulder at Eddie and gave a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you’re still alive, rock star.”

Eddie smiled back weakly. “You too, man,” he replied.

Trying to keep low and quiet, they headed through the trees directly toward the fire in the neat distance. Before long they emerged near the shower blocks to see a bonfire burning, and in its midst was the shell of a car. Standing before it was Margaret, Montana, Chrissy and Chet, all staring with looks of misery on their faces.

Xavier let out a low groan as they joined the others. “That was our way out,” he said weakly.

“What happened?” Brooke cried.

Chet shook his head. “It was on fire when we got here,” he replied. Eddie heard the waver in his voice and looked over at him. In the firelight the blood soaking his tracksuit and the way he was holding his arm made it clear he was badly injured.

“It was so awful,” Margaret said, her voice high with dismay. She stepped out in front of everyone like a performer delivering a speech. “Jingles attacked me, and I thought I was dead! But Trevor … he was so brave … but Jingles killed him.”

Eddie slid a sly glance at the others. Everyone looked dismayed – Montana looked devastated – but nobody questioned it. Why would they? They’d seen Jingles kill plenty of people tonight. He tried to keep his expression blank.

“And the car?” Xavier asked.

“It must have been Jingles,” Margaret replied with a shrug. “He doesn’t want to let any of us escape.”

Xavier stepped forward. “This is the way,” he cried. “This is what we have to do! We have to build a signal fire, big enough for them to see – for planes to see! We’ll burn the trees, burn the whole damn camp!”

“Nobody’s burning shit,” Montana snapped. “We need an exit plan.”

“She’s right, Xavier,” Brooke said. “You have to calm down, just breathe!”

Eddie quietly sidled closer to Chrissy as Xavier began shouting and raving. Putting out his hand, he grabbed hers and pulled her to his side. When she looked at him questioningly, he put his finger to his lips. She looked confused, but nodded.

Xavier had gotten hold of a burning length of wood and was brandishing it like a torch. “Get back!” he was yelling. “This is the only way, don’t you see? It all has to burn!”

“What the hell is happening?” Eddie muttered.

There was a dull thud, and Xavier’s eyes rolled back in his head before he slumped to the ground. Behind him, Margaret stood with a gun in one hand, holding it by its muzzle. “Forgive me,” she cried. “I had to stop him before he hurt someone!”

Brooke sighed and ran forward. “Let’s get him to a cabin,” she said.

Montana rolled her eyes and Chet groaned. As Margaret and Brooke picked Xavier up between them, Chrissy started forward to help, but Eddie tugged on her hand. “Wait a sec,” he whispered.

Carrying Xavier, Brooke and Margaret headed toward the cabins, with Montana supporting Chet. Eddie waited until they were almost out of sight, then turned to Chrissy. “I need to tell you something,” he said. “I saw Trevor die.”

Chrissy gasped. “You did?”

He nodded. “But Chrissy – Jingles didn’t kill him. Margaret did.”

“What!” Chrissy shook her head. “No!”

Eddie nodded again. “And she said something about her accepting her true self … Chrissy … I think she was the one who killed all the campers in 1970 – not Jingles!”

Chrissy stared at him in horror. “Are … are you sure?”

“Well, I don’t have proof, but …” He paused, then plunged ahead. “Chrissy, I think we should just get out of here. Everyone’s going crazy, I don’t know who to trust any more. There’s a bike on the road just outside of camp. We can get on it and get out of here.”

“What?” Chrissy frowned and took a step back. “Just … leave everyone here to die?”

“No, no, of course not!” Eddie grabbed her arms to hold her in place. “We go to the nearest town and call the cops! Get help!”

“They won’t get here in time,” Chrissy argued, shaking her head.

Eddie pursed his lips in frustration. “Chrissy,” he said. “We’ve gone from one killer to three all in one night. Nurse Rita isn’t Nurse Rita, Xavier’s lost the plot, who knows about the others … We can’t trust them! For all we know they’re all killers!”

Chrissy paused. “Well … Chet did say that Ray killed someone,” she replied. “And that he came here to hide from the police.”

Eddie stepped back and jabbed the air with one finger. “See? You see? That’s exactly what I mean! We don’t know who they are and … The only person I trust here is you.”

“Me?” Chrissy said with a small smile.

Eddie smiled back. “Yeah,” he said.

Chrissy opened her mouth to reply, then her eyes darted to the side. “Did you see that?” she asked. “I think it was Ray!” Before Eddie could stop her, she turned and ran into the trees.

Eddie swore and ran after her. “Chrissy!” he hissed. “Wait! Ray's de- .... ah, shit!”

They ran through the trees, Chrissy calling out to Ray in a low voice. Eddie couldn’t see in front of her, but she seemed to be following someone, so he just followed her, trying to ignore the ache in his knee. When she suddenly stopped he ran right into the back of her, nearly knocking her forward. He grabbed her in time to keep her on her feet. “Woah there!”

Chrissy gasped. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t want to end up in there.”

Looking past her, Eddie realised that they’d come out on the shore of the lake. “Where’s Ray?” he asked, looking around. There was no sign of him.

Chrissy shrugged. “I-I don’t know, he was right in front of me,” she replied. “But look, is that Chet and Margaret in a boat?”

Following where she pointed, Eddie strained his eyes and saw that she was right. “What the hell are they doing out there?”

Chrissy lifted her arm to wave at them, but as she did Margaret suddenly grabbed an oar and beat Chet once, twice across the head. Chrissy squeaked in surprise, snatching her arm back. As they watched, they saw Margaret bend over Chet, and he screamed in agony. Then she stood up again, threw something over the side of the boat, and then tipped Chet into the lake after it. Chet sank like a stone.

Before Margaret could look around, Eddie grabbed Chrissy and pulled her back into the treeline. Her breath was hitching with rising sobs. Turning her around, he gave her a gentle shake. “Now do you believe me?” he hissed.

“Oh my God, yes!” Chrissy cried. “We have to get out of here!”

“Finally,” Eddie muttered, grabbing her hand. “Come on.” He led her away from the lake, back the way they had come.

As they were nearing the path that led by the showers, they heard someone scream. Eddie froze, Chrissy pressing against his back, and peered through the trees. Slowly he crept forward until he could see the path. He flinched and shrank back as the woman they knew as Rita ran past, Xavier in close pursuit, brandishing an axe. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, you bitch!” he was yelling.

Eddie and Chrissy looked at each other in bewilderment. “See what I mean?” Eddie whispered? “Everybody’s crazy!”

Even as he spoke, Brooke came tearing down the path from the direction of the kitchens, a knife clutched in her hand. Montana followed, screaming like a banshee with a knife of her own raised over her head.

Chrissy nodded. “Please let’s just go,” she whimpered.

Clutching her hand, Eddie led her slowly through the trees, keeping close to the path. The sky was starting to lighten with the approaching dawn, and Eddie felt a swell of joy in his heart at the sight; part of him had believed he wouldn’t be alive to see the sun rise. Before long they saw the big wooden gate with its overhanging sign. The coast looked clear, so Eddie tugged on Chrissy’s hand and they climbed out of the trees and ran down the road.

“You’re limping!” Chrissy exclaimed as Eddie stumbled. “Are you hurt?”

“Just bashed my knee up a little,” he replied. “I’ll be fine. Come on.”

Chrissy’s steps faltered as they came to a long bloody smear on the road. Not much further ahead Eddie could see the shape of the fallen motorcycle. “Wait here,” he said to Chrissy.

Chrissy clung to him. “Don’t leave me!” she cried fearfully.

Eddie turned back to her and squeezed her hand. “I’m not going to leave you,” he promised. “I just have to … Just trust me, okay?”

Chrissy hesitated, then nodded. “Okay,” she murmured.

Eddie let go of her hand and trotted ahead to the bike. As he had suspected, Ray’s headless body was lying next to it, the pool of blood from his neck slowly coagulating in the warm summer night. Eddie grabbed Ray’s legs and dragged him off the road, into the treeline, pushing him out of sight so Chrissy wouldn’t see. Then he called her over. She came at a run, arms wrapped around her as if she was cold. Eddie pulled the bike up onto its wheels, swung his leg over, and held it steady while Chrissy climbed on behind him and put her arms around his waist.

His earlier fantasy came back to him as he felt the warmth of her against his back, her breath ruffling his long hair. A small smile crept across his face as he gunned the engine. It roared and vibrated satisfyingly beneath him. He twisted the accelerator and lifted his feet as it took off. Chrissy’s grip tightened around him. She put her lips against his ear and he had to fight to keep the bike steady.

“Trevor said there’s a payphone at the end of the road,” she shouted against the roar of the bike and the rush of the wind.

Eddie couldn’t catch his breath to reply, so he just nodded. The feel of her lips brushing against his ear left him feeling weak and lightheaded, and it was as much as he could do to not crash the bike into the trees. It was almost a relief when she turned her head away to watch the trees flash past in the blooming light of the rising sun.

The payphone was exactly where Trevor had said it would be. Eddie brought the bike to a stop, kicked down the stand, and they both hopped off. Digging around in his pockets, he found some change and pushed it into the machine, then dialed 911.

The voice on the end sounded tinny and distant. “911, what is your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi,” Eddie said. “Look, I’m out at Camp Redwood … you need to send the cops right away. There’s been another massacre. Mr Jingles is back and he’s slaughtering everyone – except it’s not Jingles, it’s that chick Margaret who survived the first one, it was her all along, except Jingles is killing them as well this time … and I think there’s another killer there too, Brooke said it was the Nightstalker from LA -”

“Slow down, sir,” the voice said. “Did you say Camp Redwood?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie replied, nodding into the receiver. Chrissy was watching him anxiously.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then the voice said “Sir, are you aware that it’s a felony to make a false report to the police?”

“What?” Eddie sputtered. “I-I’m not -”

“We get calls like this about Camp Redwood every summer,” the voice went on. “You don’t think we know what you’re doing? Please get off the line so we can help people who are genuinely in trouble.”

“No,” Eddie protested. “No, wait -”

There was a loud click in his ear, and the line went dead. He turned to Chrissy, letting the receiver drop from his ear. “They didn’t believe me,” he told her.

Chrissy’s face fell. “So nobody’s coming?”

Eddie shook his head. In the rising light he could see her better now. Her arms and cheeks were covered in scratches, her clothes were muddy, and her hair was dishevelled with leaves and twigs stuck in it. Looking down at himself, he saw the mud coating his legs where he’d fallen in his flight from Mr Jingles. Somehow they’d both managed to get out of Camp Redwood without being seriously hurt, but they still looked a mess.

“No one’s coming,” he said, “But I have another idea.”

“What?” Chrissy asked.

“We’ll get back on the bike and ride it to the nearest town with a police station. They’ll have to believe us when they get a look at us. I mean, look at the state of us, right?”

Chrissy raised a hand to her hair self-consciously. “Am I a mess?”

Eddie smiled. “You’re a little banged up,” he admitted, “But you’re still pretty.”

Chrissy blushed. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Well … I mean …” Eddie shrugged. “Come on, you know you’re gorgeous.” His cheeks burned, and he turned away to get back on the motorcycle.

After a pause, Chrissy climbed on behind him and snaked her arms around his waist again. He felt her lips press a kiss against his warm cheek. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Eddie asked, trying to ignore the dance his heart was doing in his chest.

“For looking out for me,” Chrissy replied. “For saving me. You’re my hero.” Her arms tightened into a hug.

Eddie grinned. “Nah. I’m no hero,” he replied. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see Hawkins again.” He gunned the engine before he could say something stupid, and they sped off into the long shadows and blue sky of the early morning.

1986

“You know, this isn’t the first time we’ve … hung out.”

“No?”

“You don’t remember? ‘84? Camp Redwood? You were padding out your college application, I was there for community service?”

When her face goes pale and her eyes drop he knows he’s crossed a line. Her voice goes quiet and she says softly: “I don’t really remember much at all from back then. I know something bad happened, but my therapist says I’ve blocked it all out.” She pauses, then adds pointedly, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” His heart drops with disappointment but he nods, all too happy to change the subject if it will make her feel better. “How about this, then? Middle school, talent show. You were doing that cheer … thing...”

5 notes · View notes