The indigo stain of another perfect summer's night over lake Lilac put David at peace. It had been a tough day, what with Max and the gang somehow convincing both Spacekid and the Quartermaster that David was actually an oozing, malevolent, alien matriarch engorged with trillions of slimy eggs waiting to hatch, burst from his belly, and overrun the entire human race. The ropeburn still stung, and the scars on his stomach might never go away; but at the end of the day, it had all been in good fun. Kids could be such trouble makers sometimes.
David put his hands on his hips and sighed, smiling up at the starry sky and listening to the sound of crickets ringing through the bushes, leaves dancing in the breeze, and children not screaming their heads off at him. He really did love this place.
And then his ears picked up on a heavy rustling. His heartbeat jumped. The bushes were moving, and whatever it was sounded big. Was it a bear? A diabetic? He had had to confiscate some candy today. What if whatever it was attacked the campers?! David grabbed a stick (birch, obviously) off the ground, and clutched it tightly, feeling his knees tremble as he stood determinedly in front of his camp, ready to defend it from whatever horrifying creature sprang out from the thorny thicket.
The leaves parted, and David stifled a totally manly shriek as out of the bushes leapt…
...Camp Campbell's esteemed founder and owner, Cameron Campbell himself.
David's fear was instantly displaced, and he dropped the stick in giddiness. Well perhaps not all of his anxiety was gone. Nowadays, Mr. Campbell seemed only ever to show up with criticism, difficult orders, and a casually threatening chuckle of "remember, I was never here, Davie!"
Not that David wasn't glad to see him. After all, his childhood hero was a much nicer surprise than a hungry bear, right?
"Mr. Campbell! What brings you to our neck of the woods on this fine and flawless night?"
"Important things, Davie, important things…" Mr. Campbell seemed distracted. He was smudged with mud and stuck with burrs, as if he had come from somewhere out in the deep woods. He had the look of a wild animal. There was something in his eyes too. "Say, you wouldn't have happened to see that little Thai girl-boy-thing, or the russian, would you?"
"Oh ho, no Sir, they left weeks ago! I think they were overwhelmed by all the fun."
Mr. Campbell made a frustrated "tch" sound as he brushed himself off and began prowling slowly through the camp. "Then what about the other girl? Gretchen, was it?"
"Oh, if your looking for Gwen, I'm afraid you're going to have to hold your horses." David said, falling into step beside Mr. Campbell. "She took all her fanfiction, barricaded herself in the councilor's cabin, and told me not to let me or anyone else bother her for the next 12 hours or 'so help me God David, I will tear that stupid smile off your face and repurpose it as a food disposer for the Quartermaster's cabin sink'. That's why I'm locked out here for the night. But what a beautiful night to be locked out in, isn't it Mr. Campbell?"
Mr. Campbell swatted away a mosquito irritably. "Barricaded, you say? Oh well. She'd probably be a headache to deal with anyways…"
"Anything I can help you with, Sir?"
"Ha! Useless" Mr. Campbell seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated.
David shrunk in a little, feeling his voice crack into a high, nervous pitch as he said "Are you sure?"
Mr. Campbell's eyes slid to David, taking in his slender frame, soft, lanky arms, and ever pinkened complexion. It was an odd look: the sort of gaze a person fixes upon a piece of fruit at a grocery store. And then, suddenly, his tone changed.
"As a matter of fact, I've got a very important job for you, Davie!" Mr. Campbell's booming voice rung out, as authoritative and charismatic as ever. David felt a familiar internal glow. Mr. Campbell spoke to him with just as much enthusiastic gusto as he did when David was a kid. Though he was aware that some would consider it patronizing, he didn't mind. In fact, he sort of liked the way it helped to remind him of the starstruck sparkle he had developed during his childhood at summer camp. It made him feel like a kid again. He raised his hand in an eager salute.
"Of course Sir, anything for you and Camp Campbell!"
Mr. Campbell's eyes narrowed in that unsettlingly snakelike way that David always tried to ignore. "Excellent, Davie."
David put on a strained smile as he felt Mr. Campbell slap a hand behind his back and begin steering him around the back of a nearby cabin, where the only thing separating the log wall from the thick edge of wilderness was a dusty patch of shadow-stained dirt. "You see, Davie, it's quite boring, hiding for months on end in a secret cave away from modern civilization in order to escape-aherm-" Mr. Campbell coughed, before finishing "-to escape the, um, boringness of modern civilization."
Of course, David could hardly think of anything better than hunkering down somewhere away from modern civilization. That was one of the greatest things about camping! He supposed it could get lonely though, to be away from friends and family as long as Mr. Campbell had been. David wasn't stupid. He knew Mr. Campbell hadn't been out in the wilderness simply to enjoy the beauty of nature. Mr. Campbell had a multitude of ulterior motives. But it was hardly David's desire or job to question them. Not when he had an entire summer camp to run. It was easy to ignore Campbell's shadier doings, as long as David continued to see him in the light of a bold and wayward misadventurer, made victim to the constraints of a disenchanted and unadventurous world. And being able to do that made it easier to carry on with his job and hand the metaphorical torch of Camp Campbell off to the next generation of campers.
These were the layers of reasoning buried under David's nervous, compliant smile as he felt the two of them get swallowed into the private darkness behind Quartermaster's cabin. "You aren't my first choice Davie, but I'm afraid that I'm a bit pressed for options at the moment. Don't you worry though. You'll do just fine as long as you keep your mouth shut."
Mr. Campbell grabbed David by the shoulders. The older man's hands were so broad, and the younger's shoulders so thin, that the giant thumbs could nearly touch each other across his back. David felt his knees buckle as his thin frame was pressed against the dry, splintery side of the log cabin. His breath hitched. "S-sir? I don't quite follow you."
He made to step away from the wall, and he felt the talons on his shoulders tighten as he was shoved effortlessly back against it.
Cameron Campbell's breath smelled cruel and sadistic. "Oh, don't you, Davie?"
Instantly, David regretted allowing himself to get taken behind this log cabin. He felt his clothing get moved, as a large, callused hand roamed across his lower belly. His skin crawled, as if he were a log someone had flipped over, scuttling with woodlice trying to whittle their way back under the dark safety of fleshy, decaying bark.
Raising his hands to push weakly against Mr. Campbell's chest, he heard a cracked, nervous laugh leave his own lips. "Gosh Sir, that sure does tickle. Maybe you should stop before I wake the campers up with my infectious laughter!"
Ignoring his discomfort, the hand plunged underneath his belt, grabbed him between the legs, and squeezed, hard. A high, startled yelp escaped him.
Mr. Campbell was grinning. "You're not gonna wake them, Davie. You're going to stay good and quiet until I'm done with you." He squeezed again, and hot tears beaded at the edge of David's eyes. "After all, you wouldn't want them to come over and see you like this."
As he emphasized the word, a harsh finger jabbed up into David. David gasped, and felt his own fingers curl powerlessly against the front of Mr. Campbell's shirt. At the same time, his heart dropped. Cameron Campbell was right. This was hardly something for children to see. This was an adult matter. Too gruesome for little eyes. David pressed his lips together tightly. There was another part of him, a more selfish, childish part, that knew he would never be able to look those kids in the eye again, never be able to even hope of earning their respect, if they saw him like...saw him like…
He muffled a high pitched sob. Dang it. Or rather, dammit. He was a grown adult, wasn't he? Why didn't he know what to do? The words of his childhood friend, Jasper, echoed in his mind: "Campbell is clearly a bogus loser who just wants to use you, Davie." At the time, David had felt his insides quiver like upset jello. If Campbell was bad, then camp was bad. And if camp was bad, then nothing was good. Therefore, Campbell had to be good. That was the mentality that had shadowed his entire adolescence. Since the day they had saved Jasper from the wilderness, David had been Mr Campbell's most loyal camper. He would have done anything for him. But this? Wasn't Camp Campbell better than this? Or had it been a sham, a cheap facade of childhood bliss masking an ugly, corrupt reality, the entire time?
David's face seared with red as strange, shameful good feelings snarled their place amongst the pain, embarrassment, and violation boiling inside him. He shut his eyes tightly and felt his breath shudder as Campbell molested him.
"Look at me, Davie." The command was gruff, with a tint of malicious amusement. David's breath caught as a fist knotted into his color and yanked, nearly lifting his feet off the ground. Keeping his face lowered, he opened his eye a miniscule sliver, as a warm pearl of sweat rolled down his reddened forehead. He didn't want to look at Campbell. He couldn't.
As if in punishment, Campbell's fist closed again, painfully. David cried out like a wounded dog.
Agonizing questions swirled through his conscious like midge flies. Why am I so pathetic? What kind of councilor am I? Why do I wish so hard that Campbell was still my hero? What would the kids think of me if they saw this? Oh, God, what would the kids…
Panting, face burning from embarrassment, David's head rolled limply to the other side. His eyes lolled open.
And then his mind shattered.
There. Right there. A small figure dressed in blue was standing, staring, slack jawed, peering around the edge of the log cabin. Max's eyes were wide, and stunned, nearly glowing turquoise as they soaked up the scene.
David's soul folded in horror. If Campbell looked over and saw Max, what would he do? Ignore him? Laugh at David's misfortune? Or worse: Get rid of Max as a witness. Blackmail him. Or...or...even more terrible than that...give him the same treatment that David was getting now.
David's head snapped forward. He had to keep Campbell's focus on himself. Opening his tearstained eyes, he did as Campbell had said and looked him full in the face. It was all there, just as he remembered: the salt and pepper mustache. The strong jaw and glinting teeth. The bent nose, broken in some sort of long forgotten tussle that probably happened in Detroit. Those were the features of the man David used to revere. Campbell leered, and David felt the sweat nearly evaporate off his burning face as he glared up and gritted his teeth, trying to muffle the animalistic wimpers that were still spilling from his throat. Campbell laughed. "Good boy, Davie. It's almost as if you were born to be somebody's bitch."
David's fingernails scraped against Mr. Campbell's chest as he shuddered and felt his body get forced into a reaction against his will. Campbell's laughter boomed in his ears when David blushed crimson and felt a warm, salty tear begin to trail down his cheek, as something else warm began to drip down his leg.
And then the torture was over. The hand knotted in around his collar relinquished, and his heels touched back to the ground. His shoulders slumped and his breath rattled. Campbell's hands briefly smoothed down his shirt, and then in a gruff, almost professional sounding voice, he said "Remember, this stays between you and me, Davie. Wouldn't want the Suits to think you're an incapable councilor, would we?"
David sniffed and lowered his eyes. Then he raised his hand in an dim shadow of his former salute. "Yes S-sir."
Using his hand to hide the direction of his gaze, he glanced to the side, and saw that Max was gone. Or hidden. Oh, who knew where Max was? Probably back in his tent, rolling around laughing. Wherever he was, at least he was out of sight. When David looked back, Cameron Campbell was gone, the only evidence that he had ever been the rustle of a nearby bush as the man flew off to whatever wild hidey hole he was using to escape the Feds this time.
David hastily brushed the perspiration from his face. He took a moment to lean against the wall and strengthen the resolve in his trembling knees. It was too dark to notice the stain on his shorts, but the sticky feeling of his wetted thighs sliding past each other caused a tide of frustration and shame to well up and prickle behind the back of his eyes. He had just spent five minutes of his life as his former mentor's sniveling bitch. He raised himself from the wall. Back to being a camp counselor.
He turned the corner, and then stopped abruptly. Max was standing there, hands hanging limply at his sides. He stared at David in this way that made David feel as if he really had transformed into a gooey, egg–bursting creature from space. He wanted to cry and hide, under the gaze of this child. Not because it radiated the merciless beam of snark and criticism that it usually did, but because of the sudden turn of softened, blank shock.
Max's mouth was open, as if he were about to say something. David's eyes connected with his, and the camp counselor fixed him with a raw, unsmiling expression.
Max closed his mouth and swallowed dryly. The message was clear:
What happened happened. You weren't supposed to see, but there's nothing I can do to change the fact that you did. Go on now. Back to your tent. I'm the grown up, so it's my job to worry about this. Not yours.