I Have a Bad Feeling About This (7 page)

“I wasn't laughing.”

“Are my eyes okay?”

“I think so. Nothing's leaking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Open them.”

Henry couldn't force himself to open his eyes. His subconscious mind clearly believed that if he lifted his lids, his eyeballs might roll out onto the ground, where they would be eaten by a bear. He knew this was an irrational thought (at least the bear part), but he couldn't get his eyelid muscles to cooperate.

“C'mon, open them,” said Randy.

It's okay
, Henry assured himself.
They
can't roll out onto the ground because they're attached by stalks. Worst-case scenario, they got squished and opening your eyes wouldn't have any additional impact.

“I think I'm going to take a quick break,” said Henry, stepping away.

He'd known that there were trees around. Plenty of them. So it should not have been a surprise when he smacked into one.

At this point, he began to weigh the pros and cons of bursting into tears. He didn't think Max would approve, so that was a negative, and it would be difficult to convince anybody that sitting on the ground and bawling constituted a domination of survival camp. On the other hand, maybe Monica liked sensitive guys.

After a moment of deliberation, he went with the “don't cry like a baby” option. He opened his eyes and was pleased to discover that they remained tightly in their sockets and apparently were still spheres. He was less pleased to see Max staring at him, arms folded, not appearing particularly sympathetic about Henry's level of pain.

“I stepped on a branch,” Henry explained.

“I saw.”

“I don't think I have a concussion though.”

“Good to hear.” Max looked at him as if he weren't a very smart person.

All
right, Pain,
said Henry to his pain, though not out loud.
I'm not going to abandon this challenge because of you. You can just bite me.

Hahahahahaha!
said his pain.
You'll never overcome me! I am your master!

No, seriously, bite me
, said Henry.

Oh, I'll bite you all right. It's going to be a bite that hurts! Because that's what pain does! Rrrarrr!

I
really
am
a
geek
, Henry thought.

Henry and Randy stood there, looking over their completed project. Henry wanted to say something inspiring like “It's not the worst shelter ever made,” but that would not be accurate.

Randy sighed. “I'm sure that somebody, somewhere, in a different culture, when humankind was first getting started, built a lamer shelter.”

Henry didn't agree with that. He wanted to take pride in their accomplishment, but he'd seen forts made out of couch cushions that would be better equipped to defend them from the elements. Halfway through, Jackie had been instructed to come over and vandalize it. He'd stared at it for a few moments and then decided that there really wasn't anything he could do to make it worse.

No doubt Erik and Stu had made an amazing shelter. Something carved out of marble that they'd found in the woods, with arches, a fountain, and housekeeping service.

“Maybe we could—” Randy began, reaching out to make an adjustment.

“Don't touch it! If you touch it, you'll destroy it! We just need to breathe as gently as possible and hope for the best.”

The shelter began to wobble.

“
No—
” Henry whispered.

Wobble. Wobble. Wobble.

“Okay, time's up,” Max announced.

Wobble.

Max walked over to their “shelter” and shook his head with the expected amount of disapproval. “Do you two believe that this is an effective shelter?”

“Not really,” Henry admitted.

“Because shelters are meant to protect you, not collapse on you and cause your death.”

“We know,” said Randy.

“If you can't get into your shelter without wearing a full suit of armor, it's not a quality shelter.”

“Agreed,” said Henry.

Max gave the “shelter” a light tap with his foot. It did not actually explode on impact, but it did instantly break apart into a pile of branches, rocks, and blobs of mud.

“If you'd been inside, you'd be dead,” said Max.

“We understand that,” said Randy.

“Why would you put skull-crushing rocks at the
top
?”

“They were holding the branches in place,” said Henry.

“No, they clearly were not. There's dust rising from your wreckage? Why would there be dust rising from your wreckage? I think you boys successfully made a shelter that was less safe than just dropping the materials on somebody's head!”

“Sorry,” said Randy.

“Is that part on
fire
?”

Henry hurriedly stomped on the burning piece with his foot. “No, sir.”

“You can't start a fire on purpose, but you can build a shelter that bursts into flames when it falls apart? How is that even possible by any known laws of nature?”

The pile that had formerly been their shelter was sinking into the ground. Henry hoped that Max wouldn't notice.

“It's
sinking
!” said Max. “Why is it sinking? How did you guys find the one piece of unstable ground in these woods?”

“This was a practice shelter,” said Randy.

Max massaged his temple as if an alien were trying to break its way out of his head. “I don't even know what to say. This could be what a nervous breakdown feels like. If I didn't spend every waking moment watching for hidden cameras, I'd think I was on a reality show.”

A snake slithered out of the wreckage. Henry did not comment on it.

“I've always felt that if you're going to rate something on a scale of one to ten, you should stick to that scale and not try to cheat by saying something is a zero or an eleven or a negative number. But I can't call this thing a one. I just can't. Henry and Randy, your shelter is a zero.”

Henry nodded his understanding.

“I hate to belabor the point,” said Max, “but if somebody started a magazine called
The
World's Most Poorly Constructed Shelters
, this would be the cover story.” He pointed to the wreckage. “Not a good shelter, boys. Not a good shelter at all.”

They walked through the woods to see Erik and Stu's shelter. “Oh, my God!” Randy exclaimed as it came into view.

“What?” Henry asked.

“That's ten times more mediocre than I would have expected!”

Erik and Stu didn't look all that proud of what they'd built, but at least they hadn't constructed a death trap. It was basically just a line of branches resting along a fallen tree, though the branches had been neatly arranged.

Max tapped the shelter with his toe. It did not collapse, ignite, or sink.

“I'd rate that about a two,” said Max. “Congratulations on your victory.”

***

“Oh, chef!” said Erik, poking his head into the kitchen where Henry and Randy were busy making lunch. They had the window open, but the smell wasn't airing out. “I'd like to start with an appetizer of escargot, extra cheese, extra butter, hold the snail. And then a nice Caesar salad with exactly eleven croutons. For the main course, perhaps a crown roast of lamb with rosemary and oregano, some rice pilaf, and a side of pureed cauliflower. For dessert, I'd like tiramisu with raspberry sauce drizzled on top.”

“Me too,” said Stu.

“You get hot dogs and a small bag of chips,” Henry told them. “And I'm not going to lie. The dogs have some weird things growing on them.”

“But if you're nice, we'll cut the green spots off the buns,” said Randy. “They're spreading pretty quickly, but if we cut fast, we might be able to catch the decomposition in time.”

If you ate each bite with a big mouthful of Coke and swallowed quickly, lunch didn't completely suck.

***

“Our next lesson was going to be about canoeing,” said Max. “But…I can't do it. Two or three of you would drown. There won't be any canoeing in the Games. Everybody do push-ups instead.”

***

“Pssst, Randy!”

“What?”

“My hand's caught in my rabbit snare.”

“How did that happen?”

“I don't know. Help me get it out.”

“Just tug it out.”

“I can't. It tightens every time I try. I can't loosen it. I guess that's the sign of a good snare, right?”

“You really can't get your hand out?”

“Shhh! Max will hear you. Hurry. It's cutting off the circulation.”

“Okay, okay, let me see it.”

“See?”

“Whoa! Whoa!
Whoa
!”

“Shhh!”

“You're going to lose your hand!”

“No, I'm not!”

“Max! We need a knife! Quickly!”

“No, no, it's not that…oh, jeez, I'm feeling dizzy—”

***

“Three of the berries on the table in front of you are safe to eat,” said Max. “The fourth is not. Jackie, pick the one you think is poisonous.”

Jackie frowned as he looked over the selection of berries. “Can I taste them first?”

“Did you really just ask me that?”

“Yeah, what's wrong with…oh, right. Ummmmm.” He pointed. “That one.”

“The blueberry?”

“Yeah.”

“You think blueberries are poisonous?”

“That one might be.”

“You do understand that people eat blueberries every single day, right?”

“Maybe I'm misunderstanding the quiz. I thought you poisoned one of these.”

“I didn't ask which one was poison
ed
. I asked which one was poison
ous
. If I'm training you to survive out in the wilderness, why would I ask you to identify berries that I had poisoned myself?”

“I can't give you a good answer to that, sir.”

“Stu, which one of these berries is not edible?”

Stu pointed. “That one.”

“That's the blueberry.”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying attention to which one Jackie picked. That's bigger than most blueberries I've seen. How about that one?” He pointed to a small red berry.

“Erik, do you agree?”

Erik leaned down and sniffed the berry. “Yes, sir.”

“Randy?”

Randy leaned down and sniffed the berry as well. Then he sniffed the other three.

Max slammed his fist down on the blueberry, squishing it.

“I wasn't picking that!” Randy insisted. “I just like the smell of blueberries!”

“Do you agree with Erik and Stu?”

“Yes.”

“Henry?”

Henry picked up the berry and held it up to the sunlight. He didn't know what he was looking for (maybe a skull or Mr. Yuk), but this seemed mildly helpful. He considered squeezing out some juice to see if it sizzled his fingers, then decided against that. He put the berry back on the table.

“Yes, I agree.”

Max picked up the berry and popped it into his mouth. He chewed twice and then swallowed.

Everybody stared at him.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

Either Max was conveying the message that they had selected the wrong berry or they'd driven him to suicide. Probably they'd just picked the wrong berry.

“I think you're trying to fake us out,” said Erik. “I think you did eat the poison berry, but because it was just one of them and you're a big guy, it won't have any real effect on you. You've probably spent the past couple of decades building up a resistance to—No, I take that back, I think we picked the wrong one.”

Max picked up a blackberry. “This is called a pokeweed berry. Ink from this berry was used to write the Constitution of the United States, but it is toxic. Don't eat it.”

“Oooooooohhhhh,” they all said as Max massaged his temples much harder than people usually massaged their temples.

***

“Henry, where's your fishing hook?” Max asked.

“I'm not sure, sir.”

“Why is your face contorted with pain?”

“No reason.”

“Why is there a tear trickling down your cheek?”

“The beauty of nature, sir.”

“Are you hiding your hand behind your back because you don't want me to know that you somehow jabbed your fishing hook right through it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show it to me.”

Henry hesitated and then held out his injured hand.

“How did you get it to go through
twice
?”

“I'm not sure. It just happened.”

***

“I caught one! I caught one!” Jackie proudly held up his makeshift fishing pole, from which dangled a very, very, very tiny fish.

“Excellent job,” said Max. “Now in the real world, you would throw that back and be a little ashamed to have caught it in the first place, but in a survival situation, you take whatever you can get. So go ahead and clean that fish and we'll cook it tonight by the campfire.”

“Yes, sir!”

***

“I think Max is really upset,” Erik whispered.

“It's not my fault,” said Jackie. “I didn't know.”

“Soap, Jackie?” asked Erik. “Soap? Really?”

“I've never cleaned a fish! If he wanted me to cut off its head and rip out its guts, he should have said, ‘Hey, Jackie, cut off that fish's head and rip out its guts!' There's nothing clean about smooshing your hand through a fish's stomach, right? How am I supposed to know all of these fancy technical terms if he doesn't teach them to us?”

***

“Water,” said Max, “is the key to all life. I don't care if you have an eighteen-pound ham in your backpack. Without water, you're doomed. But though water is crucial to your survival, you can't always expect to find cool, clear, refreshing water running through a stream. Much of the water you will encounter is laden with bacteria.” He held up a gallon jug of water and shook it. “Henry, does this water look safe to you?”

“No, sir,” said Henry, even though the water looked perfectly fine.

“Correct. Just because you don't see giant parasites swimming around in there like brine shrimp doesn't mean they aren't there. Water doesn't have to be yellowish or brownish green to be unsafe. This water has literally billions of parasites in there. The horrific things these parasites can do to your insides would make the violence in your precious video games look like—” He glanced at the jug. “This isn't all the way full. Has anybody been drinking this?”

“I got thirsty,” Randy admitted. “I didn't know it was plague water.”

Max closed his eyes for a very long moment. He opened them, took a deep breath, and continued. “Anyway, when you're drinking water from a potentially unsafe source, it's important to always boil it first to get rid of the bacteria.”

“Do we have to boil the water I've already drank?” asked Randy, his voice filled with dread.

“No, Randy. Boiling water while it is inside of your body is not good for your health.”

“Am I going to die?”

“I don't know. Probably not.”

“Sir?” asked Henry. “I drank the water too.”

“Why?”

“Because Randy asked me if I thought it tasted funny. It did, but we figured maybe you just put some weird flavoring in there.”

Jackie raised his hand. “Sir? I drank some too. They asked if I could identify the flavor.”

“And what did you think it was?”

“Wheatgrass.”

Max sighed. “Stu? Erik?”

“I smelled it,” said Stu. “Can these parasites get in through your nose?”

“Normally I would say no, but I think you'd find a way to make it happen.”

***

“That's four feet and eight inches!” Erik announced, letting the tape measure wind back into its container. “Randy wins!”

“He went over the line!” Jackie insisted.

“It's okay if your head goes over the line as long as your feet don't.”

“You never said that!”

“That's been the rule from the start.”

“Then why did Henry get disqualified?”