Camp Camp: Someone who cares (Dadvid) BEING RE-WRITTEN

Chapter III: Calling the Parents

"Max! Max! Holy shit! Are you okay!?" echoed throughout that small section of the forest over the pouring rain. 

A mud-covered, yellow raincoat could only be seen slightly through the rain and mist like a distant car's lights on a foggy morning. The camp could not tear their eyes away from its unnatural stillness on the ground. Even after a full minute of shock, it did not move. David felt his heart sink at the realization that Max was hurt, seriously hurt, because of him.

Questions from the other campers overlapped each other, all directed at David and Gwen. On a normal day he would smile at the thought of the campers caring about each other but it was far from one of their goofy situations.

"Oh my God! What do we do? Is he okay?" asked Gwen with desperation. She was starting to hyperventilate. 

"O-of course he's okay!" David stammered. "I-I just need to get him and he'll be fine. He has to be fine!"

Everyone looked at him with the wide-eyed disbelief he was accustomed to seeing every time he said anything remotely positive about the situation. For the first time that summer there was a cynical voice in his head, panicking with the same disbelief as the campers. It was a cruel contrast to the same voice coming from a boy in a blue hoodie. 

David felt his throat tighten as he tried to blink away the gathering tears in his eyes. Gwen raised a sympathetic eyebrow and gently stroked his arm for comfort. 

"He has to be okay Gwen." He avoided her gaze

"Da-"

"I'm going down there." He was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

David cautiously stepped onto the slope and grabbed onto a tree for support, the action he should have taken instead of putting all his weight on just one branch. He could feel Gwen's hopeful gaze on him, reminding him that he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to be hurt as well and leave Gwen in a position of managing her anxiety, the situation, and the campers.

He continued walking down the slope, grabbing onto passing trees and looking for the least slippery patches of mud and rock. The damp bark made his hands wet and slippery, forcing him to tighten his grip. David could only see the forest a few meters at a time since the fog hid the dark browns and greens. 

For a brief second a small rock gave out from under his feet and he felt himself slip forwards. His heart stopped momentarily before he instinctively wrapped his arms around a pine tree next to him. He sighed in relief. 

'You really are a tree-hugger Camp Man,' said a small voice in his head. He was going to bring the voice back. 

David continued to walk down the slope after regaining his balance, made slightly easier by the rain starting to lighten. He was getting closer to the part of the slope where jagged rocks stuck out from the earth. There were slight droplets of blood being washed away by the rain, so small they would have come from little cuts. He was close enough to the bright raincoat he could see the still figure inside it, his stomach was rising and falling with each lazy breath.

When Max was close enough for David to touch he grabbed the next tree, sinking his nails in, and sat next to him. Max's eyes were closed but his eyebrows were furrowing and unfurrowing in irritation. Blood was being washed from his swollen nose, painted in red. A small cut was bleeding from his temple and going into his hair on his side. 

It was almost as if he were taking a nap with how little movement was coming from him. His breathing was even and peaceful. David resisted the urge to shake him, to wake him up. Even one touch could send him rolling down the slope again with more injuries.