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Authors: Eric Walters

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BOOK: Fool's Gold
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“I'm letting you up,” Moose said quietly, “but don't you go doing any more yelling, you understand?”

Red, who was actually turning red in the face, nodded, and Moose shifted off of him. Slowly Red sat up.

“You tried to kill me,” he said to Jack. He turned to me. “Both of you tried to kill me.” A chill went up my spine.

“We didn't try to kill you, honestly!”

“You've been down this way before. You knew there was a waterfall.”

“We knew, but we didn't know it was here,” I lied. “We thought it was farther down … we didn't know. We just weren't thinking right because we were scared, that's all.”

“I don't believe you,” he hissed.

“You think they'd have put themselves over a waterfall if they'd known?” Moose asked.

That was a good point. Who would do something that stupid … other than Jack and me?

“Look, Red, that kid saved your life,” Moose said. “He was the one that got you when you went under, and do you think I could have dragged you out of the water without him?”

Red didn't answer.

“If anything, the kid should be mad at
you,
” Moose
continued. “Look at what you did to his face.”

I looked over at Jack. I hadn't noticed but there were four, bright-red, angry-looking scratches on his cheek!

“When you was struggling you reached back and raked him with your nails. Kid's lucky you didn't take out an eye. That's why I had to slug you,” Moose said. “You mad at me for that?”

Red sort of shook his head.

“'Sides, even if you are mad at the kid—and I don't think he did anything wrong—you still gotta know that if you do anything to him, anything that stops us from getting the gold, then you might as well be putting that gun to your own head and pulling the trigger.”

What did he mean by that?

“Just think about what Dom would do to you if you screwed this up,” Moose went on.

Dom … that had to be the boss guy. That was his name, Dom.

Red nodded his head slowly in response.

Moose reached over, picked Red's gun up off the sand and handed it to him. Seemed to me that wasn't the smartest thing to do. Red held the gun in his hand. He looked at Jack and then at me. I held my breath. He tucked the gun back into his pocket. Moose reached down and helped him to his feet.

“You ready to go?” Moose asked.

“I'm okay … I guess … but where's the tackle box?”

“The what?”

“The tackle box, the red tackle box.”

“It must have fallen out of the raft when we went over the—”

“There it is!” Jack said, pointing to the far side of the pool. The bright-red tackle box was bobbing along. “I'll get it.”

Jack waded into the water and then dove forward. He did the crawl, quickly closed the distance and reached the box. Rather than grabbing it, he made a turn and then pushed it back in front of him, tapping it forward with one hand and then taking a stroke to catch up to it. He looked sort of like a trained seal playing with a ball. When he got closer, Moose waded into the water and picked it up.

“That was lucky,” Moose said.

“It's not like we're really going fishing or anything,” I pointed out.

Moose laughed—a deep, low chuckle. “I guess in some ways we are.”

He undid the two latches and popped open the tackle box.

“All snug and dry,” Moose said. “The box must be waterproof.”

“What's in there?” I asked, trying to peer around him.

“Stuff we'll be needing when we get closer.” He closed the lid and did the buckles back up. “So, where do we go now?”

“We have to go farther downstream, so I guess back into the boat,” Jack said.

“No way.” Red held up his arms like he was surrendering. “There's no way I'm getting back in another boat for the rest of my life.”

“It's the only way we can get there,” Jack said.

“I'll walk along beside the creek.”

“You can't do that. We're heading into a marsh so there's no place to walk.”

“It'll be okay,” I said reassuringly. “We're past the waterfall, and there's only one of them on the creek.”

“Are you sure?” Red asked. He sounded like he didn't believe me. I couldn't blame him.

“Honest, for sure,” I said. “We were wrong about where it was but we aren't wrong about how many there are. Just one. The current is even pretty weak here because the creek is so much wider.”

He didn't say yes, but he didn't say no. Slowly he rose to his feet. He looked unsteady, shaky, as he walked over to the raft. He grabbed it and flipped it over so it was sitting the right way, then he touched the side with his hand, like he was checking to see if it was still solid and sound. He turned around.

“Okay, let's go.”

Red climbed right into the raft, right in the middle,
and braced himself so his arms and legs were outstretched and stuck into the rubber sides. Jack and Moose and I all pushed it off the sandbar and into the water. Moose waded in, then jumped in, and the whole thing buckled under his weight. For a split second I thought it was going to flip over, sending Red into the drink again. Red let out a little squeal, so I guess he thought the same thing. The raft settled down and I jumped in.

Jack kept pushing and then held on but didn't climb in. He floated behind the raft instead, kicking his legs to power it forward.

“It's not much farther now,” I said to the two men, trying to make conversation.

“Can't be too soon for me,” Red muttered.

“I'm just happy that nobody has seen us,” I said.

“Or heard us,” Moose added to Red. “You were screaming like a little girl.”

“I was drowning. What did you expect me to sound like?”

Moose shrugged. “Not like a little girl drowning.”

I had to fight the urge to laugh. I didn't think Red liked Moose poking fun at him, but there was nothing much he could do about it. He could probably do a lot of things about me laughing at him, though, so I'd avoid doing that.

The banks of the creek had been replaced now by rows and rows of tall bulrushes. Riding low in the
water we were hidden from view. Jack stopped kicking and waded alongside the boat.

“You can get out and help if you want,” he said to me.

“You stay put,” Moose told me. “I'll take care of it.” He crawled over to the edge of the raft, and the shift in weight sent the far side up into the air, threatening to tip it over again. Red scrambled to try to balance the boat and Moose flopped over the side and into the water, causing the raft to buck like a wild bronco before settling back down. I couldn't help but wonder if Moose was just being clumsy because he was so big or whether he'd done it deliberately to bother Red. I climbed out as well, leaving Red on his own, once again straddling the centre of the raft. I wondered if he'd stay firmly lodged there until it had been dragged up onto dry land.

I waded along beside the raft. Moose and Jack didn't need my help to tow. The water got shallower with each step until we reached a little lip of muddy shore. As I climbed up onto the land I was startled by two red-winged blackbirds that flew out of the reeds, noisily screaming as they soared into the sky. I guess I'd startled them too. I had the urge to yell at them to be quiet—like that made any sense.

We were surrounded on all sides by the bulrushes. They were tall enough to not only block our view, but also to prevent anybody from seeing us.

“We have to hide the raft,” Jack said.

“Looks pretty well hidden right now,” Red answered.

“Not from all directions,” Jack said, pointing up to the sky.

Red snorted. “Like a plane is going to see it.”

“Planes take off and land here all the time,” I said.
“If they saw an abandoned raft they'd radio down and have somebody come and investigate.”

Red didn't look happy with my answer. I guessed he didn't like being told he was wrong.

Jack snapped the stalk of a bulrush. He wiggled it back and forth until it broke off. “We can cover it with these so it blends in.”

“That would pretty well take forever,” Red said.

“We've got time. We're not going anywhere until it gets dark. Besides, it won't take that long if all four of us work together.”

“It won't be four,” Red said. He sat down.

Jack looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Instead he turned away and walked over to a thick patch of bulrushes and began bending one back to break it off. I went over as well and started to do the same.

“Here, this'll help,” Moose said.

I turned around. He was holding some sort of handle. How would that help?

He flicked a little switch and a six-inch blade flipped out! The blade glistened in the light. He offered it, handle first, to Jack.

“Be careful, it's real sharp,” he said.

“Maybe you should use it,” Jack suggested.

“Naw. I'll use this one instead.” With his other hand he reached down and pulled up one leg of his pants to reveal a knife in a leather sheath strapped to his leg. He pulled it out and held it up. It had to be twice as long as the other knife.

“I figure you and me cut and George brings them back and puts them on the raft,” Moose said.

“That would work,” Jack agreed. He took the first knife from Moose.

They began cutting. The knives were obviously very sharp and they sliced through the reeds effortlessly. Quickly there was a pile. I gathered up the first few and brought them over to the raft. I placed them against the sides, leaning them over so they covered more of the raft.

Jack was moving in one direction, cutting, and Moose had started off the other way. I scrambled to keep up. This would have been easier if Red had been helping as well. Instead he just sat there, watching out of the corner of his eye. I wasn't sure if he was being lazy or just didn't like being ordered around by a kid. Either way, we were getting the job done without him.

“How's it coming along?” Jack asked as I came back over to where he was piling up reeds.

“Fine. Fast. Almost a quarter of it is covered
already,” I said. “It won't take long. By the way, that was pretty scary back there.”

“It was just a little dip in the water, nothing to be scared of.”

“I didn't mean that part,” I said, although that was pretty scary. “I meant Red holding that gun to your head.”

“Hardly had time to get scared before Moose jumped him,” Jack said. “Besides, it wasn't like he could have actually shot me.”

“I don't know,” I said. “I figure he's the sort of guy who might shoot somebody.”

“You're probably right. That is, if he had a gun that worked.”

“Why would you think his gun wouldn't work?” I asked.

“It was under water, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! So it wouldn't have been able to fire.”

“Good thing,” Jack said, “because I think you're right. Red wouldn't think twice about putting a pill into somebody.”

“I'm just glad Moose was there. He wouldn't let him hurt us—he's different,” I said.

“Different, yes, but that doesn't mean better,” Jack said. “Maybe he wouldn't use a gun, but I'd bet he'd snap your head off if you got in his way. Either way you'd be just as dead.”

“I don't know,” I said.

“Think about it,” Jack said. “He didn't have any problem smacking his friend, did he?”

“I guess not, but he did stop Red from hurting you.”

“He stopped him because he knows they can't kill us.” He handed me an armful of bulrushes. “At least, they can't kill us yet.”

I really didn't like the sound of that. Jack came closer.

“Until we get the gold,” he said, his voice just a whisper, “we're safe.”

“And after?”

“After may be different. I don't think these guys are really going to count on us to take our gold bar and keep our mouths shut. I think maybe they're just stringing us along until they get what they want, and after that they're planning to shut us up … permanently. But I think I have that figured out.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Red asked. He was standing just behind us.

“We're just trying to keep our voices down,” Jack said. “We're all lucky nobody heard you screaming like a little girl when you went into the water.”

Red snarled.

What was Jack doing? Did he think it was smart to taunt the guy with the gun?

“I think I screamed too,” I said, trying to defuse the situation. “Do you think you could carry these
back?” I asked, holding out the reeds.

“Carry'em yourself,” Red said, and he turned and walked away.

I waited until he was clearly out of earshot. “So what's your idea?”

“After we get the gold and get back into the raft, you're going to have to get away,” Jack said.

“Get away?”

“You're going to slip away, maybe into the water, and just vanish.”

“Shouldn't both of us get away?” I asked.

Jack shook his head. “If we both get away they'll kill Mom. I'm going to go with them and deliver the gold and get Mom. You're going to go back to where we camped.”

“And do what?”

“Nothing. You just wait. If we're okay, we'll come and get you.”

“And if you don't come?”

“Then you go right back into Camp X. Find Bill. Tell him everything, and we'll hope it isn't too late.”

“Too late for what?” I asked.

“Too late for us to be saved.”

“Don't talk like that. I'm sure it'll all work out.”

“Maybe, but we have to make …” Jack swivelled his head. “Do you hear something?”

I listened. Yeah, there was something … the sound of an engine. Was it a car, or jeep or—?

BOOK: Fool's Gold
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