Zac looked up at the road from the paper he had been given by his parents with some directions printed on it, on the top a large header saying Summer Camp. Why his folks wanted him to go was beyond him, but if it made them happy then fine. He started driving again as the road went from pavement to gravel and his truck rattled slightly. I wonder how many people are going to be there. He thought to himself as the day reached mid-morning. He looked in his mirrors to see if someone was behind him, but only saw the dust kicked up from the road. Zac slowed down as he reached the entrance gate and rolled through finding a spot to park his truck. He looked around after turning the ignition off. I must be first here. He got out of the old truck and grabbed his two duffel bags out of the bed of the truck and set them down to grab a hard, rectangular, case and slung it over his shoulder across his back then picked up his bags and headed to the furthest cabin from the front that he could take: 11.