The early June night air in the Rocky Mountain summer camp bunkhouse was cool and normally would have called for one or two woolen blankets, but a solitary figure in a lower bunk in a row of seven bunk beds had kicked off his blanket and sheet. He had been perspiring rapidly due to a high fever and he had no need to keep covered. His blanket had fallen to the floor. His top sheet was twisted at his feet. His name was Joshua, or Josh, as most called him.
Slowly, things started to come into focus as Josh regained a semblance of consciousness. The nearly full moonlight filtering in through the western windows showed him just enough of the interior of the pine log cabin bunkhouse that he could fairly easily identify large shapes and structures. He could make out the other bunk bed frames, the window frames, the doorway to the washroom and the bare wood pillars that supported the roof. He could see, but he was having trouble understanding all that he was looking at.
He was still horribly weak and hot because of his high fever. Reaching out with his right hand, he felt for the plastic water pitcher or a glass that he had sipped from before. There was no water left on the shelf beside his bed. The empty pitcher had fallen to the floor and the one glass that he had been drinking from was on its side on the edge of the shelf.
"Help me! Please help me!" Josh called out into the darkness.
Nobody came!
"Oh God, Please! Somebody, help me!"
His head was in horrible throbbing pain. Just the effort of calling out loud hurt, but he desperately needed water and help. Vaguely, he remembered that he had repeatedly called out before and nobody had come to help him. Was it hours, or days ago?
He knew that the nearest source of water was the cabin washroom, but that seemed so very, very far away. Yet, he knew that somehow, he had to find the energy to get to the washroom to seek additional water for his fevered body. He was disoriented, weak, seriously dehydrated and his thirst was overwhelming.
Even though he lacked strength and felt extremely dizzy from his illness, Josh slid off of the side of his bed and lowered himself to the floor. Scattered on the floor were several empty two liter green plastic soda bottles. He remembered drinking from them earlier in his illness, but that seemed so long ago. There was no remaining moisture in them. He brushed them aside.
Just this exertion seemed to take most of what little remained of his strength. Now, the room seemed to be spinning and he almost lost consciousness. He was totally determined to fight through this illness and he held on to consciousness because he knew he had to crawl to the bathroom in order to get to some water. It was either that or give up and die.
For a moment he rested with his face sideways on the floor. Dirt and dust from the unswept floor stuck to his cheek and forehead. He lifted his head and gradually pulled himself across the pine wood floor. It was night, but there was still enough light from the moonlight to see into the opening to the washroom just a dozen feet away from his bed.
Over the course of a half-hour and with frequent rests face down in that dirt and dust of the floor he managed to cross that distance. Now, he was almost at the opening to the washroom where he could hear the sound of water dripping and splashing on a flat surface.
Straight-ahead were the sinks and the toilet stalls, and off to his right were two shower stalls. The sound was coming from his right. One of the shower nozzles was dripping a heavy drop of water every fifteen seconds or so. He decided to crawl to it and seek that source of water, as it was readily available, even if limited.
Using his remaining strength, he managed to crawl under the privacy partition and reach the wall where the shower nozzle was dripping. He placed his head under the falling drops and opened his mouth to collect each vitally precious, life saving portion of water. Time passed and he was barely conscious, but he remembered to keep his head directly under the shower nozzle and swallow each time as the moisture slowly built up in his mouth.
Gradually, over several hours, light began to appear in the eastern sky and Josh felt some of his strength returning. His fever was abating and he felt strong enough to turn over and get on his knees. He carefully propped himself up against the left sidewall in the shower stall and reached up to turn on the cold water with his right hand. It took some effort, but on his third try he was successful and managed to turn the faucet half a turn and received a small spray of water upon his uplifted face. He continued to gulp the water and enjoy its cool cleansing wetness as it flowed upon his uplifted face and chest.
Continuing to gain strength, he decided to take off his heavily soiled nightclothes that were caked to his body. In his delirium from the fever he had managed to soil himself and sweat profusely and he wanted to free himself from the cloth that was now caked on him. He gradually shed the bedclothes and washed his body free of dirt as best he could as he sat and lay on the floor under the running water.
He still did not have enough strength to stand, so he propped himself up and turned off the water and slowly crawled back to his bed. Once there, the linens were so soiled and damp that he pulled them from the bed and lay on the bare mattress and fell asleep again in the nude.
Hours later he awoke, hungry and thirsty again. He looked for his wristwatch, but it was not on his left arm. He couldn't remember what he did with it. He looked around to see what was near him and saw his backpack sitting open on the lower personal shelf close to his bed. In his backpack he remembered that he had some chocolate candy bars and he reached over for the pack and pulled it next to his bed. Reaching in with his hand, he found just two remaining Snickers candy bars and pulled them out and placed them on the mattress by his side.
Slowly, he opened the first one and took small bites until the candy bar was gone. It seemed that the act of eating the candy bar had made him tired. Again he rested with eyes closed and drifted off to a brief sleep. After almost an hour of sleep he was startled awake by the repeated loud shrill calls of several large blackbirds gathered just outside the bunkhouse.
He sat frantically upright in the bed and tried to gather his thoughts. There would be no more sleeping, he had to try to stand up. Using the shelves near his bed for support, Josh pulled himself up in a standing position and wavered on very unsteady legs.
His first immediate consideration was for sitting right back down! He forced himself to keep standing as he continued to waver. The arches of his feet hurt, and his knees did not like what he was asking them to do. His head was throbbing and things were not totally in focus with any consistency, but he was determined to walk to the wash room this time and drink his fill of water from that showerhead.
The thought of taking the empty water pitcher with him did not occur to him initially. He was thirsty; he needed water and lots of it. About half way to the restroom he remembered the water pitcher and turned back to get it, but the pain of just turning around was too great and he decided to ignore the thought. Now was not the time to do things in proper fashion. He just wanted the water and he did not have the time or the desire to transfer it to something else before drinking it; besides, he rationalized, he probably couldn't carry it back to his bed safely.
He continued on with caution while holding on to bedposts, stands, walls and doorposts to steady himself. He managed over several minutes to cross the few feet to the shower stall. He was wavering, dizzy, and ready to fall, but absolutely determined that he was going to win over this illness. Once back in the shower stall he leaned against the shower wall and turned on the cold water and drank his fill.
With each passing minute, now that he had plenty of water to drink, he felt stronger and stronger and his mind was clearer. There was a small bar of soap left in the shower tray, so this time as the water ran, Josh used the soap to totally cleanse his body. He was very careful and determined that he would wash any potential residue or bit of floor dirt from his skin. He had to be totally clean. He had to wash away that horrible illness that he was certain had almost killed him.
As he showered in the cool water his mind raced in fleeting fashion from troubled thought to troubled thought.
Where was everybody? Certainly it had been several days since he had become sick, though those days now all seemed like a painful blur to him.
Why didn't anybody send him to the hospital down in Colorado Springs or a closer medical facility?
Why wasn't there anybody with him to help him?
Where was everybody else? This camp should be crowded with high school age boys and girls now, but other than the loud caws of those noisy blackbirds, the camp was dead silent. He had come here to be a cabin counselor to ten to twelve teenage boys that were supposed to be in this cabin.
Where were those boys?
Where was the camp nurse, the gray haired Mrs. Bauer? She was there the day he checked in. One day later he came down with this horrible illness and he didn't even remember seeing her once in his entire period of bed confinement. Why have a camp nurse if she does not make herself available to help anybody who has become seriously ill?
He remembered that somebody gave him water several times during the first few days he was sick and put his two liter bottles of Mountain Dew next to his bed from his back pack; but beyond that, he could not remember who did what or said what to him.
Josh struggled with his thoughts and memories. Maybe the one with the water was that pretty blond Australian girl? Yes! That seemed right, but why if she was helping him did she stop?
Was everybody afraid of his illness?
Was everybody gone?
He had to find some answers. Besides, he was hungry for more than just candy bars. He had to talk to somebody to find out what was happening.
He had a cellular phone in his backpack, but knew that it was useless up here in the bunkhouse areas. When he arrived several days ago, he got partial reception down at the camp office, but not good enough to place a call that would not immediately disconnect. There was absolutely no reception up here in the cabins. Besides, his battery was probably dead by now. He had to get going to find out what had happened and was happening.
He turned off the water and felt that he was now strong enough to walk back to his bed without holding on to the walls or bed frames. This, he did, but with guarded and deliberate steps. When he got to his bunk he immediately sat down on his mattress and gradually dressed himself with clean underwear and bluejeans. He had to stop and think before each action. It was obvious to him that he was not functioning very well, but he was resolved to keep on trying.
He located his wallet in his backpack and checked to see if his Discover Card and Visa Card were still in their respective sleeves in the wallet and then put his wallet in his left rear pants pocket. He pulled a light blue camp tee shirt over his head and put his feet into some tennis shoes and deliberately neglected to tie the laces.
"Too much trouble," he thought. Besides, he had a very sharp, nagging headache and bending over would only hurt his head more. Pulling himself up and steadying himself just a little with the bedpost, he set out towards the cabin door. He had every intention of finding out some of the answers to his questions and finding some real food to eat. The thought of eating any more chocolate did not appeal to him. The one remaining candy bar was still on his bed where he had placed it.
He walked to the door, opened it and stepped through into the bright sunshine. The afternoon sunlight blinded him for a few minutes and actually caused his head to hurt more. The bright light made his eyes start to tear even though he was squinting through nearly closed eyes. Soon, the tears were running down his cheeks in streams. He continually looked down at the ground near his feet in an effort to keep the sun from any further, temporary blinding of his eyes. He didn't remember ever being this sensitive to the sun. Luckily, some of the sunlight was shielded from his eyes by the top branches of the trees growing in this part of the camp. There was a gravel walkway leading back to the central camp complex and he slowly walked down the path to the chow hall and kitchen building.
Josh continued to deliberately look down. He did this all the way along the gravel path as he slowly and carefully placed his feet one after the other on the path. He walked up to the chow hall door and grabbed the handle, but it would not open. He tried again, thinking that it just might be jammed; but, no, he realized, it must be locked from the inside. He went to another door and it, too, appeared to be locked from the inside. All the while, his head was throbbing from the intensity of the sunlight and he kept on looking at the ground.
He walked around to the shady side of the building to the kitchen service door and found it to be unlocked and after briefly hesitating, he entered while looking around very carefully as if he might be doing something wrong. Once inside, the pain and tearing in his eyes abated. Off to his left were two large refrigerators that were on the far side of the room. Josh walked to them and opened one to find it was full of large multiple-gallon containers of milk. They were the kind that had a ten inch white tube that extended down from them so that it could be used in a milk-dispensing machine for the chow hall, but Josh didn't have a pocketknife, so he could not cut the plastic tube to drink the milk. "Maybe there was one already set up in the chow hall," he thought.
Bypassing the other refrigerator he walked towards the chow hall door. Just before entering, he saw a pair of sunglasses beside what looked to be a lady's purse. There was an apron that had been discarded and was almost covering the purse and somewhat hiding the sunglasses. "I guess some woman was in a big hurry to go home," he thought.
Josh picked up the sunglasses and put them on. They were a little bit tight on the sides of his face but they would serve his purposes for the time being.
He remembered from the first day that he arrived that the chow hall had a lot of windows so that people could look out at the scenery as they ate. He did not want to enter and have his eyes start tearing again.
Once he entered, sure enough, there was a milk machine with those white milk tubes extending down past the handles. The machine had two handles in place to dispense the milk from two cartons that were placed side by side. He went over to the closest machine and noted that one handle was for chocolate milk and the other was for regular milk.
He picked up a glass from a rack beside the milk machine and poured himself a glass of regular milk. It was cold and tasted good and seemed to satisfy some inner craving that his body needed. He drank the whole glass of milk in a few gulps and refilled the glass. He drank some more but stopped when he saw a serving shelf with small individual boxes of cereal.
Placing his glass of milk down on the milk machine ledge, he walked over to the cereal rack and took some frosted corn flakes and ripped open the box and started eating. Further over were small bags of salted corn chips, also in a rack. He tore some open and ate several handfuls of chips from these bags and realized that the saltiness of the chips was what he seemed to enjoy or crave the most.
He grabbed several more bags and walked back to his glass of milk, picked it up, and refilled it to the brim. He then carried his unique breakfast to a window table and sat down to sip the milk and slowly eat and savor the chips as he thought deeply while he gazed passively out of the window.
"It just does not make sense that I am here alone," he thought. "There has to be somebody else here, somewhere!"
He repeatedly looked out the window, but he could see no activity either up or down the camp road that ran just outside the window. In the distance, there was a solitary light gray squirrel scampering across the ground, gathering and hiding future stores of food for the lean winter months. A darker squirrel came down from a tree and seemed to be working alongside the first squirrel. "Looks like a community project," he thought. "They seem to be getting along well enough."
He could see nothing else that was moving other than the swaying branches of the pine trees as the wind blew softly through them.
"Maybe if I go to the other cabins? That's it, I'll go to each of the other cabins and, if necessary, hike all the way down hill to the camp office at the front of the camp. There has to be some logical explanation. Gosh, it is so damn stupid that people would just leave me here to die all alone and not send anybody to help me or the others. That's it, even though I am weak, I've got to look around for somebody. It just does not make sense that this place would be totally empty of counselors or other staff. There has to be somebody here."
Even though he had his mind made up, he continued to sit at the table eating the last of the chips and sipping the milk until the double refilled glass was finished. He picked up the empty wrappers with one hand and lifted the glass up with another and walked to the kitchen tray return window where he reached in and put the used glass on the inside counter for somebody to place it in the dishwasher. The wrappers he threw in a large trash can by the return window.
Walking back out the rear kitchen door with his newly found sunglasses in place, he headed towards the girls' first cabin. That was where that pretty Australian blond was supposed to be the mother hen to her ten to twelve teenage girls.
"What was her name? Was it Sandy? Yes, that was it! She was Sandy or Sandi and she was 21 just like Josh." They both had blue eyes, but Josh's hair was a little more brown than blond. Both were college students going into their senior years who had decided to earn some spending money as camp aids for the months of June and July here at Seven Lakes Summer Camp. He remembered now, she had told him that her name was spelled with an "I" not a "Y" as most people spelled it. He remembered the "I" now, because he had made a mental note when she had told him that she was a student at the University of Indiana, with an "I," too. She was on athletic scholarship at Indiana with the women's basketball team.
He reached the cabin but was afraid to open the door, standing outside for over a minute. He then decided to knock first and did so.
No response.
He knocked again and still there was no response. He opened the door. Several of the beds showed signs of having been slept in, but there was nobody there. There were no backpacks, no suitcases under the beds or anything. Other than two towels and a washcloth hanging on the end of one bunk, the room had been cleared out.
Josh walked out the back door and went on to the next girl's cabin. Again, he briefly hesitated at the door and knocked once and then entered. There in a bed closest to the door was somebody covered from head to toe by a white sheet and no blanket. He called out and there was no response. He reached out and touched the shoulder of the shrouded person and tried to gently shake the individual.
The body was rigid and cold.
A few survivors gather and form a colony that is multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-cultural and multi-religious. They survive and prosper in spite of the tremendous difficulties.