Camp camp short stories!

David! (Part 2)

The kitchen light was off. Daniel slipped through the doorway, closing it quietly behind himself. He cast a quick glance around the room, carefully cataloging every item, every appliance, every loose screw and cracked tile. Edging forward, Daniel ran a mental checklist of items to acquire. Non-perishable food, can-opener, water bottle, matches or lighter, small pot, knife.

But first, he needed a way to carry it all — a sort of rucksack or something comparable would be preferable. The pantry would likely have sacks or large bags, so Daniel cracked open the pantry door and entered, making sure to prop the door open ever so slightly with a stray soup can. It was dark, the only light coming from the crack in the doorway. Daniel was tempted to find the light switch, to turn it on, but he knew that doing so would only increase his risk of being caught.

Sure, he had carefully waited in the bushes until the campers had finished their lunch, had counted them as they were led towards the activity field by David and the other counselor, whose name Daniel could not remember. Sure, he was relatively certain that nobody would be returning to the kitchen anytime soon, and yet...

It was best to exercise the utmost caution in everything he did.

So Daniel found himself groping around in the dark, trying to find a bag or sack to fill with stolen provisions. After several near-falls, and one frightful moment where he accidentally knocked a can off its shelf, he found one. It was rough and thick, sturdy, with a drawstring keeping it shut. It was perfect for his needs.

Gathering the stiff sack up in his arms, Daniel made his way back to the pantry door, kicking the soup can backwards into the darkness, returning to the kitchen. He ran the mental checklist again. Non-perishable food, water bottle, matches or lighter, can-opener, small pot, knife.

The kitchen was small, easy to navigate, with a stove, counter, and refrigerator on one wall, and a portable freezer against the other. On the far wall was a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit, stocked with cans of food, bags of flour, and — somewhat surprisingly — a cookie jar, all the way on the top shelf. Daniel walked towards the shelves, bare feet feeling each crack, each dip and rivet, each imperfection of the floor. The tiles were pleasantly cold underfoot.

He reached the shelves and examined the labels on the cans. Soup, mostly, with some beans and canned fruit thrown into the mix as well. Daniel carefully considered how much he needed, and how many cans could go missing without being noticed. If he took enough food for about a week, that should be sufficient, he decided.

Yes, food for a week would be good. He would limit himself to two meals a day — breakfast and dinner. He would return to the camp the day before he ran out. Of course, it would be best to travel between the two locations as little as possible. It took about three hours to walk from his cabin to the campgrounds. It would take another three to go back, maybe more. Besides the time and energy needed for the journey alone, there was the concern of detection. The more frequently he returned, the greater the chance of being caught.

Perhaps provisions for two weeks would be better.

A quick count of the cans on the shelves revealed about twenty in total. Too few. He should return to the pantry and take food from there. On the way back to the door, he would pass the counter, cupboard, and fridge, as well as the hanging cooking implements above the stove. Daniel would not need anything from the fridge or the stove. He would, however, need a pot from above the stove. There was a knife block on the counter next to the stove. He would need a knife. Further, he would need some sort of sheath for it. The cupboard above the counter should provide something adequate, and the drawer beneath would be the likeliest place to find a can-opener.

Daniel turned, too fast. His left nostril began to bleed profusely, streaming to the floor in bright red splashes. Cursing, Daniel dropped the sack and began searching desperately for paper towel. It was in the first place he looked, the cupboard above the counter. He ripped off several squares, dripping water on them from the sink, and dropped to the floor to wipe up the blood. One hand ran swift circles on the floor, paper towel mopping up the blood, while his other hand reached for another square, holding it to his nose.