Sacred Grounds

Remington swore he wasn't lying this time. "Steal a rock from White Bear Ring, Lone Bear Ring, and Lone Star Ring and you'll wake up with the Wayfarer Badge tomorrow."

Archer snorted. "I've never heard of it."

"That's because you're a first-year. It’s a Bartle thing."

"A fake Bartle thing."

Remington rolled his eyes. “Baby.”

Chase laughed into his Peach Nehi float. "You don't even have to do the whole thing. Just admit you're scared."

"I'm not scared,” Archer retorted.

"Then do it."

Archer looked down. "We're not supposed to cross the white rocks."

"That's the point," Remington said.

"It's Mic-O-Say land."

"So don’t get caught.”

Graham laughed. "Nobody's going to catch him. He won't do it."

"I will too." Archer stabbed at the melting ice cream with his spoon. The white rocks marked the edge of the sacred grounds. Every Scout at Bartle knew that.

His stomach twisted. The boys broke into grins. Archer wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Mr. Dan rounded the boys up once they finished at Ico, told everyone to put on their headlamps, and gestured to the trail. "We're headed to Up and Down Cave. You'll have a few minutes to explore before we head back to camp."

Remington motioned for Archer to drop to the back of the group.

"Past the cave there's a porta-potty. Duck into it and hide."

Archer glared.

"We'll tell the leaders Barrett stayed back with you to maintain the buddy system."

"They'll know Barrett isn't on this hike."

"Just trust me."

Archer didn't trust Remington with anything.

The hike passed in a blur. He barely noticed anything as his thoughts kept circling back to what would happen if he got caught.

Then again, he wanted this badge. If Remington was telling the truth, this was his only chance.

The troop climbed onto the cave for pictures. A few minutes later they were moving again. Just like Remington had promised, two porta-potties sat near the registration cabin beyond the cave.

Archer slipped inside. When he stepped back outside, the trail was empty. He kept his headlamp off as dusk settled, not wanting to draw attention.

The white rocks lined the trails in both directions. Every Scout knew that meant stay on this side.

Archer kept walking.

Finally, he was far enough from the main camp that he felt sure nobody would see him. He stopped, took a deep breath then stepped over the white rocks.

Nothing happened. No older Scouts appeared from the trees or leaders came marching down the trail. Nobody grabbed him and hauled him back to camp.

His stomach churned.

Archer glanced around one last time before continuing toward the Ribbon Trail.

It should have been close. He expected to see the painted trees and the carved totems marking the route.

Instead, the woods looked wrong. He walked a little farther.

Still nothing. When he turned around, he couldn't even find the trail he'd come in on.

His pulse kicked up.

A narrow gravel service road cut through the trees ahead. Archer frowned. That definitely hadn't been there before. He followed it for several minutes, trying not to panic.

Then he saw a sign for Sawmill Campsite.

Archer stopped cold. Sawmill was on the opposite side of camp, more than a mile from where he'd crossed the white rocks.

His heart lurched.

He knew his way back from Sawmill, but he'd have to cross nearly all of camp to reach the Rings and get the rocks.

Archer was already worried about getting caught. Maybe it wasn't worth it.

"Archer!"

The voice echoed through the trees. Archer spun around.

The woods stood empty.

"Archer! Archer!"

He heard it again. Who knew he was over here? Remington and the others were still on the Ico hike. They couldn't possibly be anywhere near Sawmill.

Then again, he wasn't supposed to be here, either. Archer's stomach dropped.

The voice sounded like him. Exactly like him.

He stared into the trees, trying to spot movement. He didn't know whether to run or panic. He was so focused on the woods that he never heard footsteps behind him.

"Scare easy?"

Archer jumped.

A boy stood on the service road, about his age, in a scout uniform that read Troop 2. Nothing unusual, Archer told himself, except he hadn't heard him coming.

"No."

The boy raised an eyebrow. Archer knew he wasn't fooling anybody.

"What are you doing out here alone?" the boy asked.

"Nothing. What are you doing out here alone?"

The boy shrugged.

"I asked first."

"Archer."

The boy waited.

"That's my name."

The boy nodded. "Vernon. So what are you doing out here?"

"Trying to get back to camp."

Another shout drifted through the woods.

"Archer!"

He wanted to ask if Vernon heard it, too. But before he could even acknowledge it, Vernon asked, "Wayfarer Badge?"

Archer blinked.

"You've heard of it?"

Vernon didn't answer.

Instead he started walking.

"Come on."

Archer had to jog to keep up.

"Where's Troop 2 from?"

"St. Louis."

"I didn't know any troops from St. Louis were here."

"We arrived Sunday."

Archer nearly tripped. This session was the first, and it started Wednesday. Today was Saturday. Before he could ask about it, the trees opened. Totems rose from the darkness.

The sacred grounds.

Archer stopped.

"How'd we get here so fast?"

Vernon didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his pace.

"You better hurry."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're almost out of time."

"What time? What does that even mean?"

Vernon kept moving.

"Archer!"

The voice echoed closer through the trees.

Archer's skin prickled.

"If you're going to get the rocks," Vernon said, "start with Lone Star."

"What?"

"The stag is fast, but it's your best chance."

Archer stared at him.

"The stag?"

Vernon pointed.

The three Rings sat ahead of them. Beyond them lay the Point. Archer's pulse hammered.

Nothing about any of this made sense.

Then again, he'd already crossed the white rocks.

He marched to Lone Star before he could lose his nerve. The iron stag towered over the fire ring.

Archer snatched the nearest stone.

Metal groaned as the stag's head turned. Its antlers scraped against the night sky.

It snorted.

Archer screamed.

Vernon's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Don't."

The stag stepped off its pedestal.

"Run," Vernon said.

His voice was calm. That terrified Archer more than the stag.

He bolted toward White Bear and grabbed a stone. Metal shrieked and something huge moved.

He didn't stop. Lone Bear was feet away. Another grinding roar.

Then he turned toward the trail and froze. The stag stood to one side and the bears to the other trapping him between them and the Point. Behind Archer waited a hundred-foot drop into dark water.

"How do we get around them?" Archer asked.

"You wouldn't want to."

Archer stared at him.

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

"Archer!"

His voice rang out from the trail. Right there with them. The stag snorted and pawed at the ground, agitated.

Archer opened his mouth to demand an explanation. Vernon slapped a hand over it.

"Don't."

The voice called again.

"Archer."

"Throw the rocks over," Vernon said.

"What?"

"Throw them. Now. Then jump."

Archer laughed.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Something stepped onto the trail. At first Archer thought it was another Scout. Then he looked closer.

It was shaped like a boy, but its arms were too short and movements too stiff. A bearskin hung from its shoulders, its face was hidden but Archer thought he saw himself.

The iron bears immediately moved between it and Archer. The stag lowered its antlers.

"Last chance," Vernon said.

The creature tilted its head.

Then it spoke.

"Vernon."

The thing took another step. Archer didn't wait. He launched himself from the Point. The last thing he saw before the lake rushed up to meet him was Vernon turning toward the voice.

Archer squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impact. The trees, or if he managed to clear them, the water. Either way, he was dead.

But the impact never came.

Slowly, Archer opened his eyes.

He was standing in front of his tent. Voices surrounded him. Laughter.

The Ico hike had just returned.

"How'd you beat us back?" Remington shouted. "You didn't even do it, did you?"

"Probably cut through by the pool," Graham said. "Baby."

The boys laughed.

Archer stared at them. They looked normal. The campsite looked normal. For a second he wondered if he'd imagined everything.

Then anger surged through him. They had almost gotten him killed.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled.

A searing pain tore through his chest. Archer doubled over.

He grabbed at the spot and felt something rough.

"What the hell?"

He yanked the shirt over his head.

A patch was stitched into the skin. An embroidered stag was above the word Wayfarer.