rbrt

Chapter 1: floW

The classmates from a high-school survival elective, each carrying their own quirks and personalities, had been assigned a multi-day spring-break camping trek under their instructor’s watch. The assignment felt like a rite of passage, a chance to trade familiar streets for pine-covered hills and prove they could live without Wi-Fi or instant meals. They packed tents, sleeping bags, water bottles, first-aid kits, and every piece of gear they imagined might matter once civilization faded in the rearview.

Josh was a popular kid with short brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a medium build that made him look athletic without trying. Most families in town earned their living at the paper mill—a steady enough income to keep the lights on, but never enough to make college feel possible. Generations before him had accepted a modest, lower-middle-class existence, and higher education had become a dream too expensive to chase. Josh saw how easily young adults ended up stranded before they could even afford a starter home, and he wondered if this trip might be the closest he’d get to escaping that cycle.

A large white van rolled up to his house in the pre-dawn darkness, its headlights cutting through the night like twin lanterns. He hauled his gear into the back, slung on his backpack, and climbed aboard. The interior seemed impossibly long at first glance, rows upon rows of seating that looked ready to carry the entire senior class. In reality, it offered four rows including the driver, but the predawn haze made it feel cavernous.

Alex, the instructor and de facto chaperone, drove with a steady grip on the wheel. “Find a seat,” he said as the van lurched forward, his voice calm and authoritative. Many of the students had driver’s licenses but none owned a car, making the van their collective transport. Alex was five years older than his brother Sam, who sat quietly nearby and shared his lean frame, dark hair, and deep-set eyes. Alex held himself a little taller, his posture shaped by the leadership role he’d taken on.

Josh settled in the second row beside Sheri and Liz. Sheri was smart, slender, and undeniably pretty, with dirty-blonde hair falling in soft waves and blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. She was known as the compassionate one, the girl who always listened first. Liz, perched beside her, was skinny and a touch ditsy even by Sheri’s generous standards. Her jet-black hair framed an otherwise plain face, yet she carried herself with a quiet confidence. She had an average build and was well liked for her easygoing, non-combative nature.

Molly, with short brown hair cropped close to her scalp and an athletic frame shaped by years of varsity sports, occupied the van’s rear row—if that designation meant anything in the oversized vehicle. She was the most athletic among them, earning starting positions on almost every team she tried out for: soccer, softball, field hockey, basketball. She was squeezed between the twins, Pete and Paul, the latter known almost universally as Re-Pete. The nickname stuck because Paul never objected to his brother’s self-appointed dominance and seemed content as the comic second-in-command. Molly could probably outplay either twin, though no one intended to test that theory in the cramped confines of a van.

Pete, the dominant twin, saw himself as handsome, tough, clever, and, by his own claims, hilarious. He was thin with a deceptively athletic look despite never joining a sports team. His dark-brown hair waved in a carefree pattern, and his brown eyes shone with mischief. Paul—Re-Pete—fit the role of comic sidekick, punctuating conversations with questions that bordered on absurd. It was hard to tell when he was being serious, which made him endearing and occasionally frustrating.

The final explorer, Yancy—Drew on school rosters—sat alone in the middle row. Pete often called him “F-cubed” or “fat freckle face” behind his back. Yancy was mild-mannered and well liked, a larger boy with a mop of red hair and a few extra pounds that gave him a soft, solid presence. He rarely grew upset, preferring to keep the peace. Pete had tried to provoke him more than once, but even he backed off when Yancy approached.

“Why does camping require leaving before sunrise?” Yancy yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It’s a test to catch us off guard and see who asks dumb questions. Guess who won?” Pete replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

= Weds B

“I thought I was the winner?” Re-Pete joked, nudging his brother with a grin.

“Looks like we have a new champion,” Pete said, giving his twin a look of exaggerated admiration.

“I’m grateful for that,” Yancy replied, his voice soft but steady.

With Josh, the final pickup, loaded aboard, the van rumbled out of town. Their hometown lay in the heart of thousands of acres of wilderness, so finding a spot to practice their new skills wouldn’t be difficult. The road narrowed as they left the last of the pavement behind, the landscape trading houses for towering pines and the occasional startled deer that bounded across their path.

The wilderness thickened as the van pushed through tangled limbs, a vast sweep of untamed forest that promised both adventure and danger. The air smelled sharp with pine resin and fresh dew, and the green canopy whispered secrets as they drove deeper. Their hearts quickened, adrenaline rising at the thought of escaping mundane life for a couple of days. The van rattled them with each uneven dip in the dirt road, every jolt a reminder that civilization was already slipping away behind them.

“Like an amusement-park ride, huh, Yance?” Pete asked, masking his own nerves with humor.

“I guess, but I’m hungry,” Yancy replied, a wave of nausea rolling through him after skipping breakfast.

“You’ll learn what it feels like to go without a full belly. No fridge to raid here,” Alex added with a grin, his eyes bright with the thrill of the unknown.

Just under an hour later, after cruising at a cautious fifteen to twenty miles per hour, they arrived at Alex’s chosen campsite: a nearby spring-fed pond glittering like liquid glass, and a small creek babbling, wildlife darting through underbrush, and plenty of firewood only a short hike away. The clearing was ringed by a treed fortress, ancient trunks standing like silent sentinels. “We’ll set up our tents here,” Alex announced, his voice dampened by the forest wall.

The early morning caught up with them as they unloaded gear. Yancy groaned under the weight of heavy canvas tents, while Pete breezed past with lightweight sleeping bags that practically floated. The girls carried cooking gear—pots, pans, disposable cups, plates, and utensils that clinked softly as they set them down.

“We carry out all our trash, so make as little as possible. Wash and reuse when you can,” Alex instructed, with Sam watching intently.

Sam felt proud of his older brother. The others saw Alex as a likable geek who could recite every knot-tying trick by heart.

“Don’t just stand there watching, Sam—pitch in,” Alex said, nudging him into motion.

“He wants a commune,” Pete laughed, avoiding all heavy lifting.

“That fire tower off in the distance will guide us through the forest. We can see it from everywhere,” Josh noted, pointing toward a rusted metal structure perched on a ridge.

“State the obvious, why don’t you?” Pete muttered as he pretended to be busy. Spotting Sheri lifting a large bundle of logs, he hurried over, trying to impress her. “Let me help,” he offered, drawn to her despite never landing a date. Rejection never bothered him; he figured persistence would eventually get noticed.

“Why don’t you gather firewood? We’ll need a fire soon,” Sheri suggested, hoping to ease away from Pete’s relentless focus.

“Good idea,” Pete said, grabbing her hand and guiding her toward a forest trail.

“Stay together. That applies to all of us. Don’t leave camp without at least one other survivor,” Alex ordered, his voice firm. “Reference the tower when you’re out there,” he added, handing out small metal whistles designed to cut through the forest’s muffling silence.

Pete muttered, “I’ll tell you where I’d like to put this,” and slipped his whistle into his pocket, deeming it overkill.

“Do you have a gun?” he whispered to Alex, his voice barely above the rustle of leaves.

“Yes, why?” Alex replied, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I thought I’d take it,” Pete said, his breath shallow.

“No. It stays with me unless there’s an emergency.”

Pete lowered his voice again, pulling Alex aside. “What wildlife do you expect we’ll meet?”

“Probably none. Your noise will scare most away. Humans are clumsy visitors to the wild.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pete replied. “Let’s collect firewood.” He and Sheri disappeared down the trail, his nerves hidden behind a mask of confidence. She showed none, moving with calm efficiency.

Re-Pete, deciding to test his whistle, placed it between his lips and blew as hard as he could.

Liz was standing with her back toward him. She jumped in a panic and landed in Yancy’s arms. He didn’t mind. “What are you doing?” she hollered at Re-Pete.

Re-Pete grinned, removed the whistle from his lips, and placed the string around his neck. “It works,” he said.

Liz let go of Yancy and made a fist gesture at Re-Pete. “If you ever…” Then she regained her poise and stormed toward the pond.

Sam followed her, giving her space while still ensuring she wasn’t completely alone.

Yancy worked up a sweat erecting most of the tents in record time with Josh, Alex, and Liz barely keeping pace. He paused, glanced around, and asked Josh, “I get the feeling we’re being watched. Is it just me?”

“I don’t feel anything,” Josh replied, scanning the perimeter, his eyes tracing the outlines of distant trees.

In the forest, firewood lay plentiful among fallen trunks, each log a potential source of heat. Pete paused, looked around, then whispered to Sheri, “I think we’re being watched!”

“By who?” she asked, scanning the shadows. She then saw his grin. “You just wanted to get close, knock it off.”

“It worked. Let’s bring this firewood back.”

As they turned, a girl stood in the path, her silhouette outlined by dappled sunlight. Startled, Sheri dropped her wood, the clatter resonating through the trees. “Oh my God! You scared me,” she cried, eyes wide.

“Are you taking all my firewood?” the girl said flatly, her expression blank, voice devoid of emotion.

Seeing a peer-aged girl who wasn’t unattractive but could use a little polish, Pete apologized. “Sorry, we didn’t know it was yours.” He smiled, hoping to charm her. “I’m Pete, and this is Sheri. We didn’t expect anyone out here.” He extended his hand, palm open.

“Out here?” she replied softly, as if puzzled by the notion of strangers in the woods. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, relief evident.

“That’s right. We’re camping nearby,” Sheri said, her voice steadier than she felt. “We want to make a fire.”

“Fire,” the girl smiled, a brief flash of warmth. “You can have it then.” She bent to help pile the wood back into Sheri’s arms. She wore army-style fatigues and a tee with floW printed across the front, the letters bold against the fabric.

“What’s your name?” Pete asked, curiosity edging his tone.

“My name is Flow.”

“Like Florence?” Sheri asked cheerfully, trying to break the awkwardness.

“No, just Flow,” she answered curtly, pointing to her t-shirt.

“That is an unusual spelling?” Sheri commented.

“Oh, like Cher?” Pete joked half-heartedly, hoping humor would bridge the gap.

Flow didn’t answer, instead asking, “Should we bring this firewood to your camp?” while gazing steadily down the trail.

As the sun climbed higher, casting light directly on the clearing, the campers secured their tents and arranged their sleeping bags. The air grew warmer, and the scent of pine deepened, mingling with the faint smell of damp earth.

Alex stood at the edge of the clearing, his voice carrying authority. “Remember, the tower is our landmark. If anyone gets lost, follow its silhouette. And keep those whistles handy—sound travels farther than you think.”

Josh nodded, his eyes lingering on the distant tower, imagining the view from its top. A surge of anticipation and a mix of pride and nervousness rolled through him, sensations he hadn’t felt back in the paper-mill town.

Sheri, holding the bundle of wood, glanced at Flow, who now stood a few steps away, her posture relaxed. “Thanks for the help,” Sheri said, genuine gratitude in her tone.

Flow shrugged lightly, then looked over her shoulder, as if worried about something.

Pete clutched his hidden whistle, staring at the ground, his mind racing with possibilities—wildlife, the unknown, maybe even a chance to prove himself beyond the jokes.

Yancy, breathing heavily from his labor, leaned against a tree trunk, his red hair catching the sunlight as it filtered through the trees. He allowed himself a small smile, feeling the camaraderie of the group settle around him like a warm blanket.

The tents were up, and a fire pit—a shallow depression in the earth—waited for kindling. The teens gathered dry twigs, pine needles, and a few nearby logs they had collected. As they struck flint and sparked a small flame, the fire began to lick the wood, growing brighter with each breath.

= Thurs B

Liz yawned. “Time for a nap.”

“Not so fast. We have chores ahead. No napping until they’re done,” Alex warned, glancing at Sam, who nodded.

“What chores? We’ve already done more work than I do in a week,” Yancy complained.

“Pete and Sheri should be back with firewood. We’ll need endless supplies until we leave. Thanks to Yancy’s incredible work ethic we have shelter, but we still have no food,” Alex replied.

“You didn’t pack any?” Molly asked. “I need carbs for energy out here.”

“There won’t be any carbs unless you pick some yourself,” Alex noted.

“Where are we going to pick Pop-Tarts—from a tree or a bush?” Re-Pete grinned.

They all stared at him in disbelief.

“I think he means berries,” Josh said, recalling the class lesson.

**MC thought (Josh): Hopefully this turns out easier than it sounds.**

“Good, you remembered. We’ll be eating mostly protein. Fish are abundant and easy to catch with these,” Alex said, pulling fishing rods from the gear pile. “I have three rods. Who wants to try?”

“I can catch fish for us,” Josh volunteered, followed by the hungriest campers, Yancy and Molly, who grabbed the remaining rods.

“We need bait,” Molly added.

Alex proclaimed, “Liz and Sam will provide bait. Dig for worms or overturn dead wood and rocks. You can fish the pond or the creek.”

Pete and Sheri returned with a load of firewood. The campers’ chatter died. A dead silence settled over the once noisy birds and insects. The campers stared in wonder at a wild-looking girl.

“Look what I found—a Jane, minus the loincloth,” Pete explained with a grin.