Base Camp Blues

All right, cockroaches, listen up!” Fish said. “Welcome to Rocky Mountain High Base Camp. This is where your journey starts, and if you’ve got what it takes to make it through the week, this is where it’ll end. Now grab your gear and follow me.”

“What if we don’t have what it takes?” someone said, making Carmen snort a laugh.

“Follow me anyway,” Fish told us.

Base camp wasn’t much. There were a couple of ancient buildings, but it didn’t look like anybody lived in them. I saw some other groups too—mostly kids, and they all looked about as happy to be there as I was.

Pittman and Fish hustled us around the back of the bus and handed out some old beat-up backpacks for us to put our stuff in.

“I suggest you bring only what you need,” Sergeant Pittman said. “You’ll be carrying those packs for the next week. Everything else will be here waiting for you.”

Every pack came with a sleeping bag (mine smelled like a giant old sock), a climbing helmet (with someone’s leftover hair inside, and what I swear looked like brain matter), and some of the supplies we’d use to make camp.

I jammed most of the stuff from my suitcase into the ratty backpack, since I hadn’t brought much to start with. Just some clothes, an extra pair of shoes, my flashlight, my toothbrush, and my notebook with three pens in a big Ziploc bag. Besides the ban on electronics, we weren’t allowed to bring any of our own food either. In fact, I didn’t see any food at all, which seemed weird.

And a little scary.

After that, they marched us over to the main building for “orientation.” Once we were all lined up there, some older guy in fatigues and a T-shirt came outside. Sergeant Pittman told us to sound off and give him our names, which meant I’d have another chance to learn some of the people I was about to be stranded with.

“Excellent! It’s really great to meet you guys,” the guy said. He flashed a big smile like he was in a toothpaste ad, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I mean, what’s the last thing you see on a shark before it eats you? A big mouthful of teeth, that’s what.

“Good afternoon, boys and girls. I’m Captain Crowder, and I’m here to welcome you to The Program,” he said. “You all have quite the adventure ahead. You might even have some fun this week.”

There was some nervous laughter, until Fish told us all to “ZIP IT!”

Meanwhile, Captain Crowder was walking up and down like he was inspecting the troops. Which I guess he was.

“One goal of wilderness trekking is to leave the woods, mountains, rivers, and streams a little better than we find them,” Crowder said. “That’s exactly what your parents and guardians have asked us to do with you. By next Saturday, each of you will be better off than you are today. Maybe a lot better off.”

“Sheesh. What is this, Wilderness and Feelings Camp?” Carmen whispered next to me. “Someone get me outta here.”

“In the meantime, let me give you one piece of advice,” Crowder told us. “You should think of The Program as a team sport. Believe me when I say you’re going to need each other to get through this.”

“I don’t think so,” Carmen said.

I didn’t know what to think yet.

“And just like any team sport”—Crowder kept going—“there are rules to be followed. Break them, and you suffer. Follow the rules, and I guarantee you’ll thrive here.”

It was easy to see why Mrs. Stricker had picked this place for my trial. They were more rules-happy here than at HVMS. Maybe I could even introduce her to this Crowder guy. Then they could get married and live grumpily ever after, in a land far, far, far, far, far… FAR… away.

“So!” Captain Crowder said. “Now that we understand how this place works, any questions?”

Everyone kind of looked around at each other. I wasn’t sure if it was another trap, or if we were allowed to talk now.

Finally, the musclehead kid, Arnie, spoke up.

“What’s the deal on food?” he said. “ ’Cause I’m starving and I don’t see any.”

Captain Crowder laughed like that was a good one. “Excellent question,” he said. “And in fact, what a perfect transition to your first obstacle. Sergeant Pittman? Sergeant Fish? You may take it from here.”

“All right, people, let’s move out,” Pittman said. “Daylight’s burning and we’ve got work to do.”

“Enjoy!” Crowder told us as we headed off for whatever came next. “Oh, and, children? Have a wonderful time!”

He seemed like a decent old guy. He was all happy, and encouraging, and nothing like the Sergeants. So then… why didn’t I trust him?

I guess it didn’t matter. We were already on our way to our first “obstacle,” and the way Fish and Pittman were marching us, I wasn’t going to have a lot of time to think about Crowder—or his overly nice shark teeth.