33 - The Horror at Camp Jellyjam by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

sweet-smelling air.
    I’ve got to think, I told myself. Got to think…
     
    Shouting voices startled me awake.
    When had I fallen asleep? Where was I?
    I blinked several times. Sat up and stretched.
    My body felt stiff. My back ached. Every muscle ached.
    I gazed around. Discovered I was still hidden inside the hedges. A gray,
cloudy morning. The sun trying to burn through the high clouds.
    And the voices?
    Cheers?
    I raised myself up and peered through the hedges.
    The track competition! It had just begun. I saw six boys in shorts and
T-shirts, leaning forward as they ran around the track. A crowd of kids and
counselors cheering them on.
    And in the lead?
    Elliot!
    “No!” I cried hoarsely, my voice still choked with sleep.
    I stepped out from the hedges. Made my way across the grass toward the track.
    I knew I had to stop him. I couldn’t let him win the race. I couldn’t let
him win his sixth coin. If he did, they’d make Elliot a slave, too!
    He ran hard. He pulled far out in front of the other five.
    What could I do? What?
    In my panic, I remembered our signal.
    My two-fingered whistle. My signal for Elliot to take it easy.
    He’ll hear the whistle and slow down, I told myself.
    I raised two fingers to my mouth. I blew.
    No sound came out. My mouth was too dry. My heart thudded in my chest. I
tried again. No. No whistle.
    Elliot turned into the last lap. There was no way to stop him from winning
now.

 
 
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    No way to stop him—unless I beat him there!
    With a desperate cry, I plunged forward and started to run to the track.
    My shoes pounded the grass. I kept my eyes on Elliot and the finishing line
as I ran. Faster. Faster.
    If only I could fly!
    Loud cheers rang out as Elliot neared the finish. The other five boys were
miles behind!
    My shoes thudded onto the asphalt track. My chest felt about to burst. It
hurt to breathe. My breath came in loud wheezes.
    Faster. Faster.
    I heard cries of surprise as I raced over the track. I plunged up behind
Elliot, reached out both hands—and tackled him from behind.
    We both toppled in a heap, rolling over the hard track, onto the grass. The
other boys raced past us to the finish line.
    “Wendy, you jerk!” Elliot screamed, jumping to his feet.
    “I—can’t explain now!” I shouted back, struggling to breathe, struggling to
stop the aching in my chest.
    I scrambled to my feet and pulled Elliot up. He angrily tried to jerk free.
“Why’d you do that, Wendy? Why?”
    I saw three counselors running toward me.
    “Hurry—!” I ordered my brother. I pulled him away. “Just hurry!”
    I think he saw the terror in my eyes. I think he realized that tackling him
was a desperate act. I think he saw how serious I was.
    Elliot stopped protesting and started to run.
    I led him over the grass. Up the sloping hill by the lodge. Into the woods.
    “Where are we going?” he called breathlessly. “Tell me what’s happening!”
    “You’ll see in a minute!” I called back. “Get ready for a really bad smell!”
    “Huh? Wendy—have you totally lost it?”
    I didn’t answer. I kept running. I led the way into the woods. To the
igloo-shaped building.
    At the low entrance, I turned back to see if we were being followed. I didn’t
see anyone.
    Elliot followed me into the theater. The torches weren’t lit. It was
pitch-black inside.
    Feeling my way along the back wall, I found the closet door. I pulled it open and led the way down the curving stairs.
    Halfway down, the sour odor floated up to greet us. Elliot cried out and
cupped both hands over his nose and mouth. “It stinks!” His cry was muffled by
his hands.
    “It gets worse,” I told him. “Try not to think about it.”
    We jogged side by side through the long tunnel. I wished I had time to warn
Elliot. I wished I could tell him what he was about to see.
    But I was desperate to save Dierdre, Alicia, and the others.
    Gasping from the smell, I burst into King Jellyjam’s brightly lit