“Everyone totally panicked,” Allie says. “Even though it was pitch dark, people were piling into the rafts to get the hell out of camp. Leo and his mom made it into the last gear raft, but Kellen caught up with them and stabbed Leo to death—or at least, he thought he did—and then killed Leo’s mom. And according to Leo’s police statement, one of the other guides was brave enough to try to fight Kellen. It bought everyone else some time to escape, but Kellen was in a frenzy and stabbed that guide to death, too.”
“But what about the other rafters and guides?” Imani asks. “The ones who escaped in rafts. What happened to them?”
I nod, about to ask the exact same question.
Allie furrows her brow and looks at Nikki, like she isn’t quite sure how to answer.
Nikki pipes up. “Authorities say they still don’t know exactly how the other victims died. And neither did Leo, because he was playing dead at the bottom of a raft under his mom’s body. Can you imagine?”
Everyone grimaces or groans at the horrifying mental image—being pinned under the literal weight of the most extreme grief and terror. A claustrophobic feeling creeps up the back of my neck.
Nikki shakes her head in disgust. “Leo couldn’t see anything. And all he could hear were distant screams from the other rafters. Nobody knows what happened to them, but the police eventually found most of those bodies spread out several miles downriver from Camas Creek.”
She shudders. We all shudder. “Recovering them was … well, it wasn’t easy. You’ve seen this canyon. It was a logistical nightmare getting Search and Rescue divers in here, let alone finding remains. By the time they managed to get all the victims extracted from the river, they were in pretty bad shape. Eyes and skin picked clean by fish, bodies wedged between rocks and held down by a zillion gallons of water pressure …”
As Nikki trails off, it’s that final mental image that drives the claustrophobic feeling to squeeze my chest. Even though the victims were dead, their remains were trapped. Just like Parker was.
“Do you think they flipped their rafts while they were trying to escape downriver?” Deborah interrupts breathlessly. “Is that how they died?”
“Maybe,” Allie says uneasily. “It was almost impossible to determine the cause of death. The coroner declared drowning for some, since there was water in their lungs. But some of the injuries were … really strange.”
I gape at Allie and Nikki, marveling at the ease with which they rattle off these nightmares. How could they be so familiar with all these details and still want to come on this trip? It seems possible they came herebecauseof their fascination with the Camas Creek disaster, not in spite of it. Like some kind of morbid ghost tour.
“You said their injuries were strange?” Deborah presses, her voice trembling. “How?”
“You don’t want to know,” Bryan’s voice interjects from the darkness, where he’s stacking the clean dishes. “You won’t be able to get it out of your head.”
“I want to know,” I insist. At this point, I need closure to this story. “Out with it.”
Allie grimaces but continues. “A couple of the rafters were missing their hands. Like, sliced off, down to the bone. One had such a deep gouge in her abdomen that all herinternal organs were picked clean by crawfish. So, probably not just a knife wound. But the only weapon ever recovered was that camouflage and pearl-handled pocket knife, found with Kellen Stroop’s dead body.” She swallows, then adds, “Two people were … well, they were missing their heads.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Some of the guests were missing theirheads? I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but not that.
“What the hell?” someone bursts out.
“Um, I don’t think I want to hear any more before bed,” says a younger woman, who is still wearing her swimsuit. “I came out here to relax. This is the ‘find yourself in the wilderness’ trip, not ‘scare yourself shitless in the wilderness’ trip, right?”
A few others murmur in agreement and shift in their chairs, looking to Josh for some final direction. Bryan hovers awkwardly on the fringes of the group, like he might be afraid to go to sleep alone, too.
Allie holds up her hands in a guilty gesture. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not all blood and guts, though. I was telling Nikki earlier that there’s actually a new controversy brewing about—”
“Nope, no way, sis,” Imani says, jumping out of her seat and laughing. “I’m already going to have to take an Ambien tonight.”
“I sure hope y’all do background checks now,” Deborah mumbles to Josh as she stands.
Josh cocks his head, looking offended. “They do background checks on all of us guides. But background checks only work if you have a criminal record. Kellen Stroop didn’t.”
“It happened seven years ago,” Pam says with finality, crossing her arms. “Today’s a new day, and so is tomorrow. I, for one, would desperately like to know what we’re having for breakfast in the morning!”
Josh smiles as relieved laughter ripples through the group. “Campfire quiche, crispy Idaho potatoes, fresh cherries, and some good strong coffee because—if you’ve forgotten—we’re going over the Devil’s Stairs first thing, so we’ll need the fuel.”
Deborah cheers. “That’s the kind of campfire story I’m talking about, ladies. Bring it on, and bring on Satan’s stairs!”
Allie smiles and glances at Nikki. “Sorry if we scared anybody.” She jerks a thumb toward Bryan. “But seriously, you should really get a different knife, dude.”
Bryan sighs and hangs his head, and I feel bad for the guy again. Then he forces a smile at Allie. “Trust me, I’m gonna replace the damn thing the second I get off the river at the end of the summer.”
Josh chuckles as he stretches. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Sweet dreams, ladies.”
