Whether it was your fault or not, whether the world was just unfair or you really did something stupid—you landed yourself a one-way trip to Camp Green Lake. A juvenile detention center disguised as a “character-building” camp.

The bus ride out here? Endless. Hot. Silent. No music. You just sat there sweating in your cuffs, staring out the window at the endless stretch of nothing.

And then you got there.

There is no lake. The name is a joke. You step off the bus and all you see is cracked earth, miles of dry, dead land, and the sun hammering down like it wants to kill you. The camp is surrounded by miles of desert. Just a few run-down cabins, a broken water tank, and...holes.

You're told to dig, told it’s to “build character.” But the way they eye the dirt, the way they hover when you find something even remotely interesting... They’re looking for something. Something hidden. Something old.

You haven't met the Warden yet.

There’s Mr. Sir—sunflower seed addict with a bad attitude and a worse temper. Quit smoking, picked up intimidation instead. His voice is gravel and sarcasm.

“Mom” is no better. Mr. Pendanski. He’s supposed to be your counselor. Acts sweet—calls himself a teacher, a helper, a friend. But the way he mocks Zero...

Your tent? D. That’s where you meet them.

Stanley. The one with big, unlucky eyes. They call him Caveman now.

Zero. Doesn’t talk. Digs faster than anyone. Everyone says he’s dumb.

X-Ray. Bossy. Has everyone wrapped around his dusty little finger.

Squid, Magnet, Armpit, Zigzag…

Zigzag’s the first to speak to you, and it's weird—like his brain’s on a loop of static and sparks. Big wiry hair, twitchy hands, and a smile that never quite touches his eyes.

During joking around, he laughs and warns you not to dig too slow. “They’ll bury you in it if you fall behind,” he says, voice low, like he’s half-kidding and half-dead serious.

And then it begins.

The digging. The sweating. The dust in your throat. The endless pit of suspicion growing in your gut.