What am I doing out here in the woods?

As family vacations went, this ranked even below "family road trip hijacked by Longhorn". Dexter Douglas had been yanked away from his beloved computer and driven out into the middle of nowhere by his father, who was determined to "make a man out of him," whatever that meant. Right now, it seemed to involve lifting and carrying a lot of firewood.

"Why do we need so much wood?" he asked his dad. "It's ninety degrees out!"

"To keep the bears away!" his dad answered brightly.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"Don't worry, they only attack if provoked. No, wait, that's bees. Well, where there's bees, there's honey, and where there's honey, you find bears."

"Maybe the bees will keep the bears away," Dexter grumbled, and dropped his armload of wood near the campsite.

"Remember to keep the wood dry or it won't light!"

"Yeah, no problem there. Everything's dry. It hasn't rained in a month. Are you sure it's okay to have campfires here?"

"Listen, twerp, just do what you're told!" Dexter's big brother Duncan ordered him.

"Hey, how come you're not lifting or carrying anything?"

"Cause I'm setting up the tent! It's harder than it looks."

The tent looked fairly sturdy (if a bit lopsided at the moment), but that was not the concern. It was a two-man tent. Since there were three of them, that meant someone would have to sleep out in the open.

Three guesses who that someone is, Dexter thought bitterly. He was just glad that he had packed lots of insect repellent; they were out in swarms, and they all seemed to be swarming around him, hovering around him but unable to touch his skin. It was actually worse than being bitten. The annoyance factor was off the charts.

If this is what builds character, I'll try and get by without any, thank you. He set down another load of wood and went back for the last of the huge pile they had bought by the side of the road. It seemed stupid to have to buy firewood when they were surrounded by trees, but Dad had said something about the woods being a protected reserve.

"Does that mean we'll be protected from the bears?" Dexter had asked.

Dad had just laughed. "No, but if they attack us, we can't hurt them!"

"Great." I did not sign up to be bear chow!

The sun was going down now. Soon it would be getting dark, which meant that the bugs would be out in force, looking to make a meal of an unsuspecting Dexter. He sprayed himself again, from head to toe, just to make extra sure, and rejoined the others at the campsite to watch them struggle with making fire.

"I went to Scout Camp for eight years," Dad was saying, "and one of the first things they taught us was how to make fire by rubbing two sticks together. Give me a minute . . ."

"Dad—" Dexter interjected.

"Not now, son! Maybe if I rub them the other way—"

"Dad, look, I—"

"You just stand back and let a seasoned woodsman handle this! Almost got it . . ."

"Maybe you need bigger sticks," Duncan suggested.

"I have matches!" Dexter shouted.

They both turned to look at him.

"I . . . I thought we might need them," he said. "They're waterproof, too. Can we please try them now?"

"I've almost got this—"

"Gimme that!" Duncan grabbed the matches right out of Dexter's hand, opened the box, shook one out, and struck it on the side of the box. He then dropped it onto the pile of wood, which began to smoke. A moment later, flames licked up the sides of the pile, yellow and orange and kinda pretty, really.

"Good job, son!" Dad slapped Duncan on the back. "Dex, get the food out."

"But—but I . . . oh, never mind!" It was pointless to try and defend himself, because they wouldn't listen. Dexter trudged over to the car and unpacked the cooler.

"Dumbest idea ever," he muttered, in between hauling out the weenies and the marshmallows. "These woods don't even have cable! Why's he have to make a man out of me, anyway? What does that even mean?"

Aw, Dexxie, you're being too negative!

And there was his other reason for not wanting to be stuck out in the woods with his father and brother, both of whom already thought he was nuts for talking to himself all the time. At least at home Dexter could pretend he was talking on the phone; out here, he had no excuse.

Besides, what happened if there was some emergency in the city, and he didn't find out about it until it was too late? Superheroes didn't get vacations!

Yoo hoo! Dexter! Are you there, little buddy?

Not now, Freakazoid. I'm busy.

Where are we? Let me put the blinds up and—wow! We're in the woods!

Don't remind me. Not happy to be here. He stacked the armful of comestibles and slogged his way back to the fire.

"What'd you do, get lost?" Duncan taunted him. Dexter chose to ignore him, laying the food down on the blanket and staying far back from the flames.

"Now, don't forget," Dad said, "hang the extra food up in a tree, so the bears don't get it."

"No," said Dexter, "they'll just eat us."

"Not if we keep the fire going. One of us will have to stay up and make sure it doesn't go out."

Dexter sighed deeply. "I can't sleep out here anyway. Too many weird noises."

"Those are crickets!"

There was a distant, bloodcurdling howl that sounded like a background effect from a monster movie. "Th-that wasn't crickets!" He started to run for the car, but Duncan grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.

"Don't be a baby! It won't hurt you! You're with me!" He flexed his muscles and grinned. "I'll punch that whatever-it-is right in the snout!"

"Yeah . . . you do that." Dexter reluctantly sat down in the dirt (no showers out here, either—how were any of them going to smell at the end of this weekend?) and watched while Dad sharpened the ends of long sticks, to stick the food on.

Aaaaah . . . the great outdoors! Sleeping out in the open . . . cooking over an open fire . . . I love it! Don't you love it?

How do I put this . . . NO!

You're not giving it a chance! This is the way we were meant to live! This is PRIMAL!

No, thanks. I prefer the great Indoors, thank you. No bugs, no creepy howling things, and plenty of hot and cold running water.

Killjoy.

"Dexter, you're being awfully quiet," Dad remarked. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," he lied. "Can we go home now?"

Dad just laughed at that. "But we just got here! We've got the whole weekend to soak up the wonderful atmosphere and enjoy the peace and quiet."

The howl came again, although it seemed at least to be moving away from them, so that was some small consolation.

We should tell ghost stories! Ooh! I know a great one!

Not now, Freak!

But if we're gonna do this, we should do it properly!

"I don't wanna do this!"

It was a moment before Dexter realized he had spoken aloud. "Um, I mean . . ." he tried to recover, but couldn't think of any explanation. Now he'd done it. Now he'd probably be sent home—wait a minute, that wasn't such a bad thing! But Dad might be mad at him for having to drive him all the way home, and then come all the way back.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly.

But surprisingly, Dad wasn't mad at all. "Oh, you're just not giving it a chance, Dex! Wait till we hit that lake! That beautiful, clear water . . . you like to swim, don't you?"

"Yeah." He did like the water. He could swim well enough to stay afloat, but usually, most of his time in the water was spent trying to escape his brother's "playful" attempts to hold his head under the surface. He'd have to find something to distract the big lug . . . too bad there weren't any girls out here.

No girls?! You mean there's not a girls' camp conveniently located across the easily-swim-across-able lake? What kind of camping trip is this, anyway?

Would you be quiet? Try to just watch, and not make so many comments!

What fun is that? You need to go do something that's worth watching!

Can I do it tomorrow? It's late, and it's dark, and these woods are spooky.

Yeah, I guess they are a little spooky. Just remember: whatever you do, don't say his name!

Whose name?

Ca—oh, you almost got me! You know, the spooky guy whose name you can't say!

Don't say his name. Got it.

The weenies were done. Dexter had a hard time getting his off the stick, and then he almost dropped it into the fire, but he saved enough to eat. The marshmallows were good, too, charred crispy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside. They literally melted in his mouth.

There were bottles of root beer that they had to open with a real bottle opener, something Dexter had never done. All the drinks he had had up till now had twist caps. "Why do we have the old-fashioned kind?" he asked.

"Because it's tradition!" Dad insisted. "Remember to put your bottles in the bag so we can take them home. Don't leave any trash in the woods!"

"I thought we were living off the land," said Duncan.

"Mostly living off the land. We can scrounge for nuts and berries tomorrow. Tonight, we need real protein!"

I wouldn't call this real, Dexter thought, eyeing the lump of meat in his hand. "How will we know what's safe to eat and what isn't?"

"That's what the Field Guide is for!" Dad patted his pocket, which bulged squarely. "Always keep your Field Guide handy! That's what they taught me in Scouts! Now finish your dinner, and we'll sing campfire songs!"

Oh, joy.

Don't fret, Dexter! I know great songs! I'll teach them to you!

Gee, thanks.

Well, don't sound all enthused about it or anything. Just trying to help.

Sorry. Don't want to be here, remember?

You just need to relax! Lighten up a bit! Smell that wonderful air!

Dexter took a deep sniff, but all he could smell was campfire smoke and burnt marshmallow. Yeah, I'm not getting it.

You will! Now you've got first watch, right?

Unfortunately.

That's great! Just after sunset is when the forest really comes alive!

Not helping there, Freak. I don't WANT it to come alive! Things in the forest that are alive want to eat me! He slapped at a mosquito that had gotten past the repellent, or maybe it was starting to wear off. See?

You're thinking too negatively! Wait till we're alone out here, and I'll show you how nice it is to be in the great outdoors! Give me a chance?

After a moment, Dexter reluctantly agreed. At least he had someone who understood him. He still wished he had a modem, though. Or an internet connection. Or freaking electricity, for Grog's sake!

Grog?

Never mind who Grog is! We're here to have FUN! Let's go catch tadpoles and put them in your brother's shorts!

NO! Dexter mentally shouted, though he secretly thought it sounded like a good idea. But knowing him, he'd get caught, and then get pounded. It was his life's goal to avoid getting pounded by anyone; he preferred to do the pounding, but only when absolutely necessary.

Dexter had the uncomfortable feeling that by the end of this weekend in Hell, some degree of pounding would become necessary. He wondered if he'd get to watch.

"Okay," Dad announced, "let's all sing songs!"

"Can we do 'I Like Big Butts'?" asked Duncan.

"Ha, ha, ha! No, Duncan! No big butts here! Let's try a round! I'll start it off, and then you join in, one at a time! Ready? Row, row, row your boat . . ."

Oh, this is the lamest campfire song EVER! Freakazoid complained. We can do better than that!

Duncan joined in on the second line, but when it was Dexter's turn, he opened his mouth, and what came out was "It's been one week since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side, and said 'I'm angry' . . ."

Dad and Duncan stopped singing and looked at him. It wasn't until the line that began "Yesterday" that Dexter realized what was going on, and closed his mouth firmly.

"Um," he said, "I just thought I'd . . . you know, switch it up a bit. Try something new?"

"I think we should stick to the classics," Dad said, after a long pause. "Songs we all know. Who's up for 'On Top of Old Smokey'?"

Dexter sighed and gave in. It was no use. At least he'd tried.

Aw, don't be so down, Dexxie! Wait till they go to bed, and we'll have some fun, just you and me! What do you say to that?

I . . . I guess.

You GUESS? What have I told you? You've got to be more decisive! Don't GUESS, KNOW! Be more sure of yourself! Now, I want your next sentence to start with "I know." Can you do that?

Okay.

What was that?

I mean, I know I can!

That's more like it! Now, are we gonna have a good time this weekend?

I know . . . it's gonna be a disaster.

Aw, Dex! What happened to being sure of yourself? You were doing so well!

I am sure of myself! I'm sure it's gonna be a disaster!

You're thinking too negatively! Try to keep your mind on the positive! We're out here, in the open, no pollution, no crowds, connecting with Nature! Isn't it wonderful?

Maybe you're right. I haven't given it a chance yet. I'll just sit back and—"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Dexter screamed as some big, flapping thing landed on his head, and then took off again. "What was that?" he gasped. "A bat? A bird? A Godzilla-sized mosquito?"

"Relax, Dex!" his father admonished him. "It was just a moth!"

"A . . . a moth?"

"Ha ha ha ha!" Duncan chortled. "You thought it was a bat!"

"It might have been! I couldn't see it clearly cause it was ON MY HEAD!"

"Now, Dexter," said Dad, "you just need to calm down a bit. It's gone now, whatever it was. Don't be so jumpy!"

From a distance came another howl, faint but just barely audible. Dexter jumped up and ran for the car again, but it was locked. "I need the keys!"

"For what? Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere! I'd just feel safer if there was a wall of metal and glass between me and that . . . whatever it is!"

"Oh, Dexter! That animal is miles away from us! Sound carries a long distance out in the woods, you know. Anyway, it's too far away for you to worry about. Come back here and take care of the fire. We're going to bed."

"But it's only eight-thirty!" Duncan protested.

Dad said, "We have to get up early, to go fishing. You want to go fishing, don't you, Dunc?"

"Oh, yeah. Why do we have to get up so early?"

"Because, that's when the fish get up! We want to get there before they've had their coffee!" He laughed at his own lame joke, but no one else did.

"Dexter, you have a watch, right?"

"Yeah." It was a cheap digital piece of junk, but at least it kept something fairly close to correct time.

"Wake me in four hours, and I'll take over for you. And remember to keep that fire going! The matches are over here."

"Yeah, Dad, I got it. Good night. Don't let the scary wolves bite."

"Very funny." Dad and Duncan shuffled off to the tent, leaving Dexter alone by the fire.

Alone.

Except . . . not really.

Whew! I thought we'd never get rid of those two! So now whaddya wanna do?

Is sitting here feeling sorry for myself an option?

Don't be silly! You're still being negative! You need to find the positive in all this!

Positive? I'm sitting alone in the dark woods full of bears and wolves and who knows what else, and this fire is the only thing standing between me and certain death! What's positive about that?

EVERYTHING! You just don't get it! The trees . . . the crisp mountain air . . . the beautiful, clear water . . . I love camping!

Fine. We'll switch. You can stay here and get eaten alive by bugs and possibly bears, and I'll stay on the inside where it's safe. Deal?

There were small popping sounds as insects flew into the fire, but other than that, all was silence. And in the silence, Dexter heard the chirp of crickets, the hoot of an owl . . . and that was it. The scary howling beast had moved on, it seemed.

See, Dex? Nothing to worry about!

Where'd you go?

Just being quiet and listening to the sounds of nature. Listen!

There was a long ululation that sounded like someone swallowing a kazoo. What the heck is that?

That is the rare brown-throated night warbler!

Is it dangerous?

Only if you're a worm. Keep watching—maybe we'll see it in flight! They're beautiful on the wing!

How can we see anything? It's pitch dark out here! Except for right near the fire here.

We'll see it if it flies directly overhead. Keep watching.

Dexter poked the fire when it looked like it was starting to burn down. He wondered if he should add some more wood.

Now! NOW! Look straight up NOW!

Almost involuntarily, Dexter's head went back. There was a dark flapping shape that passed over his head. He could just make out white-tipped wings and a long neck, and then it was gone.

Wasn't that something? You don't see that every day!

No, Dexter had to admit. You don't. Where's it going?

Probably back to its nest. They nest right by the water, so you may see it tomorrow, when you go fishing or swimming or just throwing stones into the lake. Just don't hit any wildlife!

I won't. If they don't hit me first.

Most things in the woods are more scared of you than you are of them! Anyway, just keep your distance, and you'll be fine. You know what poison ivy looks like, right?

Yeah.

Good! Can we go get some and stuff it in Duncan's sleeping bag?

Dexter sighed mentally. Sometimes Freakazoid was all over the place, and other times he had a one-track mind. No, we can't! I know you don't like him, but I have to live with him, and if I keep pranking him all weekend, when we get home, he'll make my life a living hell!

Why do you let him? Tell him to shove off once or twice, and follow it up with a good butt-whooping! I'll do it if you don't want to!

Really, Freak, please don't.

I'm just looking out for you, buddy. I hate the way that big jerk pushes you around! You need to start pushing him back!

I can't!

Yes, you can! I'll help you!

Can we talk about this some other time? I want to listen to some music. At least Dad had let him bring his CD player. He slipped on his headphones and pressed PLAY.

Sometime later, he realized he was listening to nothing but static and sat up with a start. The CD had ended; he removed it and swapped it for another. Then he happened to glance at the fire.

It was nearly out.

"Oh, no!"