There had been incidents of mysterious disappearances at Camp Wawanakwa. Since the summer of 1982, at least one camper went missing and was never found. Without a trace, they seemed to leave no clues as to how they were never seen again. Every summer, happy parents dropped their child off at camp, and at the end of every summer, that same couple was reduced to tears when they found out their child had vanished in the night.
The turn of the century, though, closed the camp for renovations. Years later in 2007, Chris McLean rented out the camp to film Total Drama Island, and fortunately, no contestant went off the grid during filming. After that, the camp was closed again to clean the environmental waste and radiation out of the island, and no hazardous waste-disposal workers went missing either. The disappearances finally stopped.
When the island rental's lease was renewed, as ordered by the provincial court of Muskoka, Chris and Chef Hatchet were worried about the disappearances continuing. Not out of any genuine empathy or concern for the campers' wellbeing, but because as part of their involuntary community service as camp counselors at Wawanakwa, they were banned from filming, distributing, and profiting off the campers' daily activities. Something about "rehabilitation?" Chris wasn't sure. The judge's droning words went in one ear and out the other for the sadistic host. Now how were he and Hatchet supposed to produce a tasteless, sensationalized true-crime series about that summer's camp disappearances?! Woe to them.
But the day Jo went missing in the cemetery on the campgrounds (why even was there a cemetery at a recreational summer camp?) was the day Chris and Hatchet's FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out on monetarily exploiting people's need to be vicariously scandalized by local mysteries, was ignited. What will now follow is a comprehensive report involving eleven pieces of evidence (documents, transcripts, and recordings) of teenager Jo's disappearance, discovery, and rescue at Camp Wawanakwa:
Exhibit A - Text messages between Zoey and Cameron, exchanged on June 15th, 1:00 PM to 1:15 PM
Zoey: it's been a whole day since Jo went spelunking in that cave by the cemetery. i'm rlly worried :(
Cameron: Likewise. Spelunking is terrifying! Why would she go?
Zoey: a stupid dare from lightning _ there always competing!
Cameron: *they're
Zoey: srry /
Cameron: It's okay, it's just a pet peeve of mine! But back to what you were saying–their endless competition has gotten 2 dangerous 2 ignore!
Zoey: *too, *to :P
Cameron: Touche. I was trying to sound cool! XD Should we call Chris and let him know about Jo's absence? Law enforcement officers always say the first 24 hours are crucial in any missing-persons case.
Zoey: don't bother, i already asked him…he said jo was fine and that i should relax (=)
Cameron: Chris, attentive as always.
Zoey: ikr
Dawn: It's kind of spooky to think about though, isn't it?
Cameron: Woah, Dawn! How did you get into our text messages?
Dawn: I've always been here \(n_n)/
Zoey: i don't remember making a group chat O_o
Dawn: Shh, don't worry about it…
Zoey: ok…anyways, what's so spooky to think about?
Dawn: the paranormal activity, of course! I've been communicating with spirits the past few hours, trying to locate Jo, and they all save the Cave Ghouls have spirited her away…she may never return, not unless outside entities retrieve her
Cameron: Paranormal activity?! I dunno…it sounds like pseudoscience.
Zoey: Dawn and i have done seances and tarot readings together, and let's just say, some weird stuff happens…i definitely believe her, Cam.
Cameron: Well alright, if ur sure…
Zoey: *your XD
Cameron: Yikes, is that really how my texts come across sometimes?
Zoey: ya
Dawn: yes
Cameron: T_T
Dawn: anyways, i will gladly offer to go on a rescue mission to the cave in the cemetery. Would any of you like to accompany me?
Zoey: of course! Jo is our friend! We can do this, guys _
Cameron: Well, i am clinically diagnosed with phasmophobia, speluncaphobia, and coimetrophobia…
Zoey: don't let your fears of ghosts, caves, and cemeteries scare you, cam!
Dawn: remember, they're called phobias–they're irrational fears
Cameron: Y-you're right…I've gotta do this…
Zoey: uh, did you just type out a stutter? (?_?)
Cameron: Maybe… :{
Zoey: LOL. i do the same thing on my online roleplays u_u let's go, guys!
END TEXT-MESSAGE EXCHANGE
Exhibit B - Transcript of conversation between Mike and Brick at 4 PM, transcribed by Brick for "ongoing military missing-persons investigation recordkeeping" (whatever that is)
Mike: Hey, B!
B: …
Mike: Have you seen Cameron and Zoey? I've been looking for them all afternoon!
B: …
Mike: They went where?! Tell me more!
B: …
Mike: Uh huh…
B: …
Mike: Uh huh…
B: …
Mike: Wow, really?
B: …
Mike: Oh, no. I hope they'll be okay! I'm just glad something's being done to find Jo.
B: …
Mike: Seriously?
B: …
Mike: Awesome! Where is it?
B: …
Mike: Okay, I'll go get it.
*5 minutes later*
Mike: Geez, this thing is heavy.
B: …
Mike: No problem. I'll see you around! Tell Cameron, Dawn, and Zoey I said good luck!
B: …
Mike: Actually…wait up, B!
B: ?
Mike: Do you mind if I come with you? As mean as Jo is, she's still a fellow camper and all…
B: …
Mike: Great! So all we do is wave this ghost-detection device around until we spot a specter?
B: …
Mike: Cool, then what?
B: …
Mike: Agreed. If these Cave Ghouls are real, we'll need to get out of the cave and cemetery as fast as possible. Alright, well are we ready?
B: …
END CONVERSATION
Exhibit C - Letter from Dakota Milton to Anne Maria and Staci, sent at 5 PM
Dear A.M and Ci-Ci,
Hey, girls! OMG, there's been so much drama with Jo's disappearance, it's literally so creepy. Zoey and Dawn are gone, too! Apparently, they went into the cave in Wawanakwa Cemetery to find Jo? Such good friends…of course, after Jo called every single pair of my Louboutin heels "ugly", I'd never stick my neck out for that ogre again, but still, how sweet…
Anywhoosies….was just thinking about an awesome idea for us to blow off steam! Remember that time we planned a girls' sleepover but it all went to crud because of Scott's stupid pranks? Well, I was thinking we'd have a re-do sleepover! Originally, I was gonna invite all the girls (yes, even Jo, that fashion-hating fiend), but with Jo's disappearance and Dawn and Zoey's attempt at heroics, it's just us. But honestly, I prefer it that way! We're the girliest out of everyone in the girls' cabin 3. Dawn's too creepy, Zoey's too indie, and Jo…let's not get into that spoiled can of caviar.
Show up to the girls' cabin after dinner at 8PM, clad in your cutest pair of PJ's, and we'll gossip, have pillow fights, do each other's nails, eat marshmallows, talk about the cute boys here at camp (I know he's a geek and has that pathetic peach fuzz, but if Sam got a mega-makeover, would you gals approve…?). It'll be a blast. Just reply to this letter to RSVP! We totally need a breather after all the true-crime mess going on around camp. It's totes freaky. BTW, in your RSVP letter, let me know how you like my new stationery! Daddy had it custom-ordered for me. Complete with my monogrammed initials in gold lacing on the front of every envelope, pink stamps, floral-scented letter paper, and glitter ink. Not to brag or anything, but cha-ching! 3
TTYL, love ya,
Dakota Milton, future Hollywood star
P.S.: You guys don't think Zoey and Dawn will upstage me if the rescue mission is a success, right? Like…the news station won't come over, and interview them for a feature story on their heroics instead of my sparkly adorableness, right?! The cameras will all be focused on me, right?! Deep breaths, Dakota, deep breaths…just like your yoga teacher taught you…
…Why am I still writing? I feel like a nerd…
Exhibit D - Letter from Anne Maria to Dakota, sent at 5:45 PM
Dear Malibu,
Girlfriend, why are we writing letters to each other like a bunch of prehistoric cavemen? We've got flip phones! Although the cell service is kinda spotty at this good-for-nothin' camp in the middle of nowhere, so…
I'm also not shocked that Red and that creepy ghost girl are off to save Jo. I agree with you, I'd never risk getting a single poof out of place on my hair just to help that sweatpants-obsessed jerk, but it tracks for those goodie two-shoes. I still kinda think they're off on a wild goose chase with this whole thing. I mean, ghosts? Sure, we've seen crazier stuff at this camp, like giant mutants. Just last week, we got turned into huge beasts (we were still totally cute, though!). IDK, this whole thing just seems fishy…I got it!
Why don't we have a sleepover at the cemetery? I know, I know, it's creepy there, but here me out! If you're so worried about Red and Ghost Girl hogging the spotlight, you could always go to the cave and keep tabs on them? You don't have to go *inside* inside, but just the mouth of the cave, you know what I'm sayin'? Plus I heard graveyard parties are in style this summer. Whaddya say?
Anyways, to answer your question (took you long enough to get to the point), I hereby RSVP to your little soiree or whatever. As long as it's at the cemetery and as long as you keep that blabbermouth Staci from bringing down the mood. Love her to death, but homegirl needs a muzzle…
Anyways, I'll see ya later. Hugs and kisses and all that.
XOXO,
Anne Maria, the Jersey girl with the hottest hair and the cutest tan (and don't you forget it!)
Exhibit E - Letter from Staci to Dakota, sent at 6 PM
To my dearest and most fashionable acquaintance and hotel heiress Dakota Milton,
Before replying to your warm gesture of sisterhood, might I thank you for extending an invitation to me via physical stationery, via pen and paper, the backbones of this nation's early communication system, of a simple text message, which, while efficient in its goal of sharing information, would have lacked the personable quality and warmth of a mailed, stamped, signed, sealed, and delivered letter.
Before beginning, let me also take the time to regale you with a brief history of my extended family's involvement in the inventions of envelopes, letter paper, pen ink, pens–specifically ballpoint, fountain and early feather-and-quill ink pens, postage stamps, envelope glue, cell phones, text messaging, cell phone-service towers, cell phone-service cable wires, and the Canadian postal system…
[REDACTED FOR BREVITY]
Now with that out of the way, allow me to commend Zoey and Dawn for their nobility and amicability. They are true friends, extending their time and effort to recover a fellow friend, nay a fellow cabinmate, nay, a fellow human, who is likely in dire need of help. I only wish I could be there myself, but wait, I can! Upon consulting with Anne Maria, I agree with her proposition for a cemetery sleepover. We can check on the girls' progress if need be while maintaining much diversion and leisure from an already stressful week at camp (that nuclear winter put us all in a tizzy, I tell you!).
I tell you all this, to…actually, first I must provide greater context for the previous paragraph. You may be questioning my and Anne Maria's interest in a cemetery sleepover, but until you understand just how my fourth cousin Lester designed the spooky, yet excitable concept of a slumber party in a graveyard, you will never know how much having a cemetery sleepover with good company would mean to me…
[REDACTED FOR BREVITY…AGAIN….UGH, LONG STORY SHORT, SHE RSVPed]
Thank you again for understanding and reading! I await you at the party! I've often been told I can be quite long-winded and annoying in my extensive speaking of myself and my family's history in the most mundane of conversation, but I hope–nay, I am sure that I have avoided this verbose, wordy pitfall in written communication, don't you think?
Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, warm regards, best wishes, happiest of thoughts, dearly, yours truly,
Staci
Exhibit F - Nintendo DS PictoChat conversation between Sam (username Gamerguy3682), Lightning (username BicepsOfSteel), and Scott (Xxcrops_r_coolxX) at 6:30 PM
Gamerguy3682: it sucks what happened to jo :(
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: man-lady's crazy if she thought she could make it out that cave alive
BicepsOfSteel: lightning thinks the important thing to remember is that it's no one's fault!
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: didn't YOU dare her to do it, dingus? whatever. Her being gone is probably for the best, hehe. extra desserts for us
BicepsOfSteel: sha-bam!
Gamerguy3682: have a heart, dudes! What if she was your prized pig Alberta, Scott? [
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: wouldn't have to worry, soft serve, since Alberta wouldn't be as dumb as Jo to go in that haunted cave.
BicepsOfSteel: quit talking about haunted caves! It gives lightning the heebie jeebies…besides, i'm getting this weird feeling in my chest that this might be all my fault.
Gamerguy3682: guilt?
BicepsOfSteel: stop making up words, dork
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: if ur feeling *that* guilty, u could always join the search team
BicepsOfSteel: search team?
Gamerguy3862: yea! cameron, zoey, dawn, and b are at the cave in the cemetery, searching for jo.
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: they're such saints. So sweet. Mother theresas, all of them! We should give them nobel peace prizes for being the sweetest peaches of wawanakwa.
Gamerguy3682: haha, scott. i just hope their rescue mission is going okay
BicepsOfSteel: maybe lightning *will* go to the cave…not because he cares. Just to prove his manliness! who cares about a couple of ghost stories?
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: if you don't make it out alive, can i have your extra cabin space?
BicepsOfSteel: if?!
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: ur right, *when
User666 has entered the PictoChat Room
User666: YOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHERYOUWILLNEVERFINDHER
Gamerguy3682: what the heck? 0_0
BicepsOfSteel: sha-AAAAAAAAAH :OOO
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Gamerguy3682: scott, this isn't funny
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: what're u accusing me 4? i hav NO idea who this weirdo is. U said all chatrooms on your geek console are private, right?
User666: ENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUNDENTERTHECAVEYOUWILLNEVERBEFOUND
Gamerguy3682: stop spamming! :(
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: huh? i'm notttt *
Gamerguy3682: whatever. Probably just another one of your dumb jokes / im going to the cemetery to help find jo and actually do something nice. U should try it 4 a change -_-
User666: YOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMPYOUMADEAMISTAKECOMINGTOCAMP
Gamerguy3682: ugh i'm outta here, dude. let us know when ur done with the games–and not the fun digital kind! [
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Xxcrops_r_coolxX: nice going, dipweed.
User666: SCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVESCOTTSCAREDOFTHECAVE
Xxcrops_r_coolxX: buzz off! who is this anyways? Jo…chris…chef?
User666: YOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMAREYOURWORSTNIGHTMARE
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Xxcrops_r_coolxX: whatever. i ain't afraid of no ghosts. i'll go to the cave to prove it 2 whoever's pranking me ]
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There are no more users in the PictoChat Room.
PictoChat Room server shutting down in 3…2…1…
END PICTOCHAT ROOM TRANSCRIPT
Exhibit G - Transcript of walkie-talkie correspondence between Brick and Chef Hatchet, recorded from 7 PM to 7:20 PM
Brick: Brick MacArthur reporting for duty, sir. I'm entering the mouth of the cave where Jo was last spotted last night. Over.
Hatchet: Good job, private. Just stay the course, and you'll be alright. Have you got all your supplies? Over.
Brick: Flashlight: check. Cave map: check. Rope: check. Night vision goggles…
Hatchet: Private? Are you there? Over.
Brick: S-sorry, sir. Check. But, on a scale of one to ten, how often would I need these night vision goggles? I mean, I know it's a cave, but it won't be super dark and spooky in there, will it? Over.
Hatchet: Nope, you'll need it practically the whole time you're down there. Why? Don't tell me you're gettin' cold feet! Over.
Brick: O-of course not, sir. Over.
Hatchet: Good, because Chris has no idea we're combing through this cave lookin' for Jo. He'd just tell me it's a waste of time, but I'll be darned if I get sent back to the slammer for failin' my camp counselor duties. Over.
Brick: As you should, sir! Now, where did you say you were again? Over.
Hatchet: Just follow the map to the back of the cave. I'm in the eastern section underground. There's tons of stalactites here and giant spiderwebs, but I keep hearing these creepy little giggles. Over.
Brick: Giggles?! I-I hear the same ones, too. You don't think…O-over.
Hatchet: Cave ghouls? No, that's just an urban legend…or so my Pappy always told me. But my cousin Ernest went missing in this very cave, and my family was always prattlin' on about cave ghouls. I don't believe in that hoopla. Over.
Brick: But you believe in the Wawanakraken?
Hatchet: Mutant lake monsters I've seen. Paranormal cave spirits? Don't make me laugh, maggot. Over.
Brick: R-right, of course. AAH!
Hatchet: Boy, what is it?! Screamin' in my ear like a madman…
Brick: I felt something drag me down into this pit! Over!
Hatchet: Pit? The same pit I'm stuck in?! Over.
Brick: I thought you said you were in the eastern portion of the cave, sir. Over.
Hatchet: I lied to seem like I knew what I was doin'! Truth is, when you've spent decades away from military rescue service and more time slinging hash in a greasy kitchen, you tend to get a little rusty.
Brick: Hold on…amidst all the terrifying, increasingly noisy giggling, I think I can hear you, sir! Over!
Hatchet: That's because we're five feet away from each other. Put down the walkie-talkie and stop saying "over", boy! And stop pullin' at my legs like a scaredy cat.
Brick: Pulling at your legs, sir?
Hatchet: If you're not doin' it, then…
Brick: AAH! HELP ME!
Hatchet: I'M IN THE SAME PREDICAMENT AS YOU, BOY!
Brick: I knew the cave ghouls were real!
Hatchet: W-where do you reckon they're takin' us, maggot?
Brick: H-h-hopefully the same place they've got Jo.
Hatchet: If she's not a bag of bones by now.
Brick: Sir!
Hatchet: Just sayin'...
Brick: Oof!
Hatchet: Oof!
Brick: It's so musty and damp in this hole…spirits, where are we?
Jo: Oh, brother. They sent you guys here.
Brick: Jo! You're safe!
Jo: Get off me! Between you the pants wetter and Chef the has-been, I don't know which of you I'm least happy to see.
Hatchet: The feeling's mutual.
Jo: This isn't the A-Team, or even the B-Team…this is a very Z-tier rescue squadron.
Brick: There are others coming! W-we'll be saved from this paranormal activity. Right? Jo, how long have you been in here? I-it can't be th-that long?
Jo: Twenty hours and counting.
Brick: In total darkness….NO– ow!
Jo: Will you shut up? Just because you're freaking out, doesn't mean you can cut into my reps! I'm in the zone, baby! Punching these ghosts out as soon as I get the chance is my number one priority. 299 pushups…300 pushups….301…302…
END WALKIE-TALKIE TRANSCRIPT
Exhibit H - Journal entry written by B on nondescript Wawanakwan cave wall, 9 PM
Dear whoever finds this,
It's been two hours since Mike, Cameron, Zoey, Dawn, and I have reached the cave in search of our unpleasant, but nevertheless a fellow camper, friend Jo. Initially, we came across a fork in the cave passageway. It led to an eastern and western wing of the cave. Whichever direction we chose, though, we'd be descending deeper into the darkness and suffocation that only a haunted cave in a cemetery could emit. So much for a normal summer camp experience.
In true mystery-solving fashion, we split up. Dawn and I elected the eastern passageway, and Mike, Cameron, and Zoey chose the western passageway. Armed with nothing but flashlights, my ghost-detector device, and the hope that we'd find our friend in one piece, Dawn and I spelunked lower and lower. We must've been tens of meters below the surface of the island. I remember our battery running low on our flashlights when my ghost-detector device (which I will from the rest of this letter on be referring to by its official name, the Phasmo-meter) started flashing a sickly green. Numbers were going haywire on the device. It was official, we were in the presence of spirits. Cave ghouls, to be specific. One of the worst types of ghosts whose territory you'd want to be in. Even Dawn felt uneasy about her paranormal communication skills being enough to soothe the cave ghouls. As it turns out, she was right to be afraid.
After our flashlights shut off, sucked of all power unnaturally quickly, Dawn and I held the rope we'd left at the mouth of the cave, which we planned to use to feel our way back to the surface after rescuing Dawn. Looking back on it, I ruefully chuckle (internally, of course) at our blind optimism. The only light came from the Phasmometer's flashing green. The device's screen shined brighter and brighter, overwhelmed with ectoplasmic energy (the supernatural energy that evil ghosts give off). Eventually, the screen cracked, then shattered into a million shards. Spooked, Dawn and I continued our journey into the depths below, holding onto a prayer that our friend–and we–would be alright.
It wasn't long before we felt the dragging. Small tugs at first. Little pulls at my shorts, at Dawn's purple stockings. Moments later, the tugging became more aggressive. Dawn and I had to fight to keep our legs steady. A malevolent force seemed to be growing, seemed to be pulling against us, like a hungry ocean seeking its next victims to drown. Too much for us to bear, we held onto the rope and each other as tightly as we could. Meanwhile, the invisible tugs–undoubtedly coming from the cave ghouls–sent us on a rocky Slip 'N Slide down the narrow cave hallway. Scrapes and cuts adorned our ankles as Dawn and I were dragged farther and farther down the cave. Soon enough, we seemed to have reached our involuntary destination, as an opening in the cave passageway spat us out into a dark pit.
In this pit, dimly lit by the only working flashlight left in the room, we found Mike, Cameron, and Zoey, similarly bruised and battered, along with Brick, Chef Hatchet, and our missing friend Jo, her face more gaunt, pale, and dirty than the last time we'd seen her. Glad to see us yet upset at our additional capture, the others questioned if help was on the way. I frowned and shook my head. But one last glimmer of hope remained–the rope! If we could just find a way to follow the rope back to the surface! But…no. The hole we'd fallen out of was too high and too narrow on the cave ceiling–which was littered with spiky stalactites–for us to reach up and climb out the pit. As if toying with us, the cave ghouls let out another cacophonic series of devilish chuckles and hurled the rope (or what was left of it, for it was fraying at the edges from the rocky descent Dawn and I had taken) down into the pit. There was no escape. So much for my Phasmo-meter.
But wait! The Phasmo-meter! Rifling through my pockets, I produced the few shards I'd recovered from the device's screen. Still dimly flashing green, I stared intently at the shards, begging for an answer. Like puzzle pieces, the shards seemed to form into a plan. A plan to escape. One that had to work, otherwise all eight of us would wither away like the skeleton remains littering the pit, no doubt some, if not all, of the other missing Wawanakwa campers from decades past.
If my plan fails, and I die here, I want my story to someday, somehow be discovered, even if to another trapped camper here, to let them know to never lose hope. I never did.
From,
B
Exhibit I - Phone call between Dakota Milton, hotel heiress, and Richard Milton, hotel CEO at 10 PM
Dakota: Daddy!
Richard: Hello, Princess. What's wrong? It's terribly late to be calling me. How's summer camp? Are the counselors allowing you your two hours of daily beach-tanning and weekly caviar snacks?
Dakota: Yesyesyes, all of that! But this is important. I need your help! We need your help!
Richard: With what, darling? You're enjoying your designer stationery, right?
Dakota: It's super cute. But it's about my graveyard slumber party…
Richard: Ah, I've heard cemetery soirees are all the rage in Muskoka. Party supplies running low?
Dakota: Well…the punch bowl is looking a little dry, but– no! Focus, Dakota! Daddy, my friends are in danger.
Richard: Danger? Oh, no! Should I call our private security team at Milton Manor to send reinforcements to camp?
Dakota: OMG, that'd be perfect. Has anyone ever told you you're the best dad ever?
Richard: Not that I can recall. Your mother's always too busy with drinking her special…smoothies and having private "lessons" with her tennis pro to pay attention to me, my business colleagues secretly envy my multibillion-dollar success in the hotel industry, and even my golf buddies at the country club have been poking fun at my swings lately! IT'S HARDER THAN IT LOOKS!
Dakota: …
Richard: Uh– you were being rhetorical, weren't you, kitten?
Dakota: Mhm…
Richard: Ahem. Yes, of course. A-anyways, where exactly are you and your friends in danger, and how?
Dakota: They're stuck at the bottom of the cave at this creepy cemetery!
Richard: The summer camp has a cemetery? How Transylvanian…
Dakota: I know, right? But at least Dracula had a butler at his creepy mansion.
Richard: Focus, sweetie. Do you know where they are in the cave exactly? How many of your friends are stuck down there?
Dakota: No idea to question one. Just really deep down, I guess. Sort of where my therapist tells me to dig during our weekly sessions. And literally all of them are trapped down there minus Anne Maria and Staci!
Richard: Well, that won't do! The security team is preparing to take off to Camp Wawanakwa. Their estimated time of arrival will be…40 hours!
Dakota: 40 hours?! My friends don't have 40 hours! They may be unfashionable, unsophisticated, uncouth, and have no idea how to style themselves, but they can't survive that long without food or water. Some, like myself, might say it'd give them a super-cute, slimming model-thin physique at first, but eventually, enough's enough. They'll look more skeletal than Kate Moss in this May's Vogue!
Richard: I understand, dear, and I'm sorry, I truly am! But between the private jet in the repair shop, and Milton Manor being here in Malibu, it'll be quite a long journey for the rescue team. Are you sure you can't just call local reinforcements, like the fire department?
Dakota: Ugh, seriously? I– oh! That's actually a good idea, thanks, Daddy!
Richard: No problem, darling. Let me know if all goes well. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go endure a few more sleepless hours in bed next to your mother. Did you know that instead of sleepwalking, she's evolved to sleep-insulting? I can't take any more blows to my ego!
Dakota: Uh-huh. Au revoir, Daddy! Love ya. Tell Mom I said hi too!
Richard: Love you, dear! Adieu.
END PHONE CALL TRANSCRIPT
Phone call between Dakota Milton and Muskoka Police Department, 10:30 PM
Dakota: Ugh, I really should've charged my phone before coming here…oh, well. 20% battery will have to do.
Operator: 9-1-1, what's your emergency?
Dakota: My friends are trapped in…what the–?
Operator: Your friends are trapped in What The, that new escape room in Saskatchewan?
Dakota: No…my phone is literally hemorrhaging battery life! I'm down to 5% and it's only been like 5 seconds!
Operator: Ma'am, this is an emergency line. Call your cell phone provider for issues with your phone.
Dakota: No, wait! There are these cave ghouls, and I'm pretty sure they've trapped my friends, as freaky as ghosts sound…OMG, 2%?
Operator: Cave ghouls? Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to hang up. Playing pranks on this line is very harmful.
Dakota: No! I'm at 1%! My phone's gonna die any minute now and I have no idea how the power's getting drained.
Operator: Ma'am, please take a deep breath–
Dakota: How is this happening? Eek! I just heard some freaky giggling coming from the cave! It's getting closer to me…aah! Anne Maria, Staci, hold on to me! I don't know what's going on!
Operator: Please, ma'am, calm down! What are–
Dakota: Eek! Staci, hang onto the refreshment table! We're being dragged into the cave by the air! Ouch! Don't touch my Jimmy Choo slippers! Operator lady, please don't hang up! It's the cave ghouls! The cave ghouls, I tell you! The CAVE–
*click*
END PHONE CALL TRANSCRIPT
Exhibit J - Tape-recorded conversation between Scott, Sam, and Lightning at 11 PM
Scott: Psst! Dorkface!
Sam: Even in total darkness and isolation, you still have time to insult me! Minus 10 relationship points!
Scott: This is only making me want to call you a dorkface even more…
Lightning: Shh! I think I hear something…somebody's with us in this cave! It's doing this creepy giggling. My skin is sha-crawling!
Sam: P-probably those cave ghouls messing with us. It's bad enough they dragged us into Tartarus.
Scott: Tartarus? What planet are you living on? We're somewhere in the cave. Somewhere…
Lightning: HEY!
Sam: What was that for?!
Scott: Shh! …Lightning's scream made a huge echo. Whatever pit we're stuck in must be connected to another one. One that's pretty big, too.
Sam: Oh, then Lightning just came up with a bright idea? Nice thinking, pal!
Lightning: Don't sound so shocked.
Sam: Ooh, shiny. Is this a Chaos Emerald?
Scott: What did you just grab? It's a weird green color…and sparkly? I call dibs!
Lightning: No, I do! I need a new gemstone for my championship ring. Give it here!
Scott: It's mine!
Lightning: Let go, Dirt Boy!
Sam: Both of you, quit it! Can't you see? The cave ghouls are just riling us up, making us want to fight instead of escape.
Scott: You may have been right about this ghost phooey, Sam, but how are these ghouls supposed to do anything more than be thorns in our side?
Sam: Because, this isn't even a gemstone, turns out. Looks more like…ouch! I just cut myself. A shard of glass?
Lightning: A glass shard? No, thanks. Lightning's championship ring needs some real bling.
Scott: Hang on, I recognize this material. It's glowing…and not in a radioactive way…like a techie, Ghostbusters kinda way.
Sam: If only we had some vacuums and green caps…
Lightning: Now that you mention it, it does look familiar. Like it's from that screen on B's ghost-finding thingamajig.
Sam: "Ghost-finding thingamajig?"
Lightning: Yeah! B showed it to me last night. Said he was gonna use it to see if any parasocial–
Sam: "Normal"
Lightning: –paranormal activity was involved in Jo's disappearance. Lightning can't exactly recall how it works, though. I fell asleep a few minutes into his boring demonstration. Ooh! I remember the more ghosts there were around you, the more it glowed. It could eventually crack into a million pieces from all the ghost energy!
Scott: Pretty decent explanation for a guy who supposedly "fell asleep"...
Lightning: What're you trying to say?
Scott: I know a closet geek when I see one…
Lightning: Shut it! Football is my one true love, not science! Save that for dorks like Sam!
Sam: I'm right here, guys…
Scott: We know.
Sam: Hmm…I think I know how we can use the shard to help us out of here. It's a long shot, but this shard is our Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's our only hope…
Lightning: What does Kobe Bryant have to do with this?
Sam: …Never mind. If we attract a bunch of cave ghouls to us, basically, the shard will explode from all the ectoplasmic energy and it could clear a path at least to a place in the cave that's less cramped. According to B, these explosions can get pretty powerful.
Scott: Meh. It's worth a shot, especially if Mr. Meathead is out of bright ideas.
Lightning: Someone should build a football field in a cave…
Scott: Thought so. Well, Dweebus? How do we get the cave ghouls buzzing around us?
Sam: Maybe provoking them? You're good at that sort of thing, Scott!
Scott: That's the smartest thing you've said all night. Oh, cave ghouls! Your creepy giggling sounds like a nasally garden gnome laughing at the world's worst joke.
Lightning: I bet you invisible losers couldn't even catch a pass!
Sam: You probably choose the easiest difficulty level on RPGs!
Scott: Nice, it's working! A little more…
Sam: Noobs!
Lightning: Butterfingers!
Scott: Runts of the afterlife litter!
Sam: It's gonna blow!
Lightning: Duck for cover!
Scott: My new tape recorder! It better not get blown to smithereens. How else am I supposed to blackmail–
*kaboom*
END TAPE-RECORDED TRANSCRIPT
Exhibit K - Jo's message-in-a-bottle, thrown into Lake Wawanakwa at 12 AM
To whoever finds this letter,
If you share the contents of this message to anyone but yourself, so help me, I'll pole vault over Lake Wawanakwa and smack you silly. I'll do it! I've won several pole-vaulting competitions throughout my award-winning high school career on the track-and-field team. But enough about me. Actually, more about me, because I'm going to tell you how I single-handedly avoided becoming another pitiful "Have You Seen Me?" missing-kid face on a milk carton.
It started when that blockhead Lightning dared me. He said that I couldn't spend the night doing an intense 1,000-pushup workout in the cave here at camp. Yeah, right. That was going to be a cakewalk for me. But get this–the cave's in a cemetery. What psycho would build a cemetery at a summer camp? Probably the same psycho who's our head camp counselor, but couldn't even bother to check on me, the lousy deadbeat. Chris McLean, if you end up being the person who reads this message, I will have my revenge. I've got an extensive memory, and an even more extensive record at holding grudges. Don't believe me? Check in the Guiness Book of World Records, then slap yourself in the face for disbelieving me.
Back to my story–before you made me distract myself. I was taking the challenge slow and steady, sure of my victory. But I started to feel this weird tugging at my sweatpants around Pushup #859. Before I knew it, I was being dragged into the cave, deeper and deeper into darkness, until I fell into this crummy pit. All around me were skeletons, probably from the other kids who disappeared at Camp Wawanakwa decades ago. But unlike those wimps, I wasn't going down without a fight. I jabbed and uppercutted the air a few dozen times. And if those cowards weren't invisible, untouchable cave spirits of the afterlife, I definitely would've had them leaving in full-body casts! But unfortunately, they'd taken advantage of their intangible bodies and completely avoided my beatdown! I was stuck in the cave for a boatload of hours, doing more and more pushups, plotting my revenge (both on the cave ghouls for trapping me down there and on Lightning for getting me in this mess in the first place!)
I could feel my protein reserves depleting. I was a warrior. A champion. I shouldn't have been feeling hunger pangs like some puny loser! The supernatural had judo-flipped my life upside-down. It was only when Bricks-for-Brains and One-Star Chef landed on me, that I realized help was on the way. The bottom-of-the-barrel, scraping-the-gutter, I'd-rather-have-a-shriveled-earthworm-than-those-hacks kind of help, but help nonetheless.
I'll be honest, I felt less alone and junk with them there. It's incredibly satisfying to insult people who have been nothing but nice to you during a rescue mission. Not only is it a huge power trip, but you can stretch your mind and get real creative with your insults. Brains will never beat brawn, but I'm a natural master of both, and exercising my brain with each hilarious put-down was super fun. Don't knock it 'till you try it, wimp!
When those good samaritans Mike, Cameron, and Zoey came crashing down into the pit next, I wanted to puke. Their goodwill was insane. Who'd ever stick their neck out for someone who shoved mutant lizards down their pants as a joke? (Let me justify this by saying they should've ran faster! Too bad, so sad.) Silent B and Creepy Dawn came fluttering down next, and guess whose fall I enjoyed breaking more? With each passing hour, more and more of those dopes fell. Even those girly girls Dakota and Anne Maria were captured while trying to find me. I didn't think those bobbleheads had it in them. Made me feel kinda good. Sorta appreciated. Blech, whatever!
When we heard an explosion like five meters away, and the smoke cleared, we saw Sam, Lightning, and Scott, covered in rock ash. Even those suckers had been looking for me! Everyone but Chris McLame (shocker) had…tried to help? I still don't completely believe it myself, and I'm side-eyeing them constantly to make sure they aren't smirking at me, which would definitely be a sign of some elaborate prank I'd fallen victim to. But no. It wasn't a practical joke. They were genuinely concerned. When my eyes landed on Lightning, I considered enacting what would be a very brutal, near-lethal dose of revenge on him, but I just settled on a hard kick to the kiwis. I'm merciful like that.
Seeing those Three Musty-teers (not Musketeers, you read it right) blow up the wall separating our cave pits with just that glass shard made us realize that B's kinda smart. Sort of a genius. Not as smart as me, obviously, but the invention–even in its shattered state–was still useful enough to help us out. Fine. He…helped me. Don't make me repeat that I relied on someone, okay?! If you, whoever you are reading this, meet me in person and try to ask me about this incident, I will deny I was ever assisted. I'm a lone wolf! A one-man machine! Because, when you really think about it, my sheer awesomeness, mental fortitude, and physical supremacy was bound to attract a solution to me…it just came in the form of twelve worried saps and an even sappier camp cook.
Well, let's just say B had way more of those shards. It didn't take too much to rile up the cave ghouls back over to our pit. Everyone was letting out all the anger and teasing we had about those Casper rejects. It was kinda fun, actually. Team sports aren't so terrible after all, specifically when they involve manipulating the enemy into doing what you want. Case in point: the explosion from all the ghost energy near the shards blasted a tunnel straight to the exit! Boo-yah! Climbing out of that cave was so refreshing. I was actually relieved to breathe in the cruddy air at camp, to be in the spooky camp cemetery only a psycho architect could've designed, to be…with the others…
And wouldn't you believe it? That good-for-nothing washed-up Chris McLame came over to us, sipping a pina colada! Strutting over to us in his stupid bathrobe, like we had inconvenienced him with our noisy escape, he was all like "What's up, guys? I got a distress signal from Chef that everyone was in trouble, but you guys look totally fine? Don't be such drama queens, especially so early in the morning!" Then this rat had the nerve to yawn. Yawning?! After I'd spent over 24 hours cooped up in that cave? I was hungry, angry–HANGRY–and ready to whack him over the head with the nearest tombstone I could find. But Chef held us off from attacking our oh-so-attentive head counselor. Instead, he suggested Chris join in on the fun. A supernatural sleepover with the cave ghouls! Before that negligent son of a gun knew what hit him, all thirteen of us had grabbed hold of his arms and legs and chucked him into the mouth of the cave. He seemed pretty disheveled and annoyed, and was starting to walk out but, well…the cave ghouls did the rest. Let's just say I hope Chris's torture starts and ends with the sickeningly girly stuff like painting nails that Zoey and Dakota forced me to do at their sleepovers. So long, Chris. We'll come back for that sucker in the morning, but I think it's time he learned to be a bit more concerned with our wellbeing. Sucks to suck!
That's it. I'm not big on long, sentimental conclusions. I told you everything that happened to me and everything you need to know. If you're confused, re-read this message. If you want a summary, cry about it. I don't have one. I'm pretty tired as it is, and I just want to chug the rest of this protein powder and pass out before my early morning workout AT 5 AM. Just because I was supernaturally kidnapped doesn't mean I'm taking a breather from this summer training. If you thought I was, you're probably some softie who believes in "taking breaks" and "self-care". Well, the only "self-care" I believe in is basking in the first-place (NOT participation) trophies you win–they're the only quantifiable measure of true success, after all. And that ain't gonna happen lazing around in bed recovering from some stupid near-death experience. Now read this letter, then burn it, and stay out of my way!
Story's over, you suck,
Jo
END CASE REPORT