We swim for about an hour, trading off between the water and the beach. I stay mostly on the beach trying to get warm again. I enjoy everything, almost forgetting about the Park Closed sign, the spooky vagrant, the weird noises in the underbrush, and the moving wood chips. Not to mention the fact that we are the only visitors in the huge park.
Or are we the only ones? I can’t help feeling that somebody is watching us – mysterious eyes in the bushes, eyes up on the river bank. But when I scan the surroundings, I never see anyone.
Then something very weird catches my eye.
I’m off floating by myself when a log drifts past me. This might not be such an unusual event in itself, but this particular log has branches sticking out like arms, and there are gloves stuck onto them.
It’s like some nightmare doll swirling down the river. It even has dark stones pressed into the top like eyes.
Is this the guy who’s ‘rowing with one oar?’
“Look!” My voice comes out a hoarse croak.
Everyone turns my direction.
“What’s up, Amanda?” Quentin yells.
I point to the ugly thing just as it starts to move around the bend.
“Right-o!” Quentin says.
He takes off after it, swimming furiously, Tommy close behind him. Melissa looks toward me curiously; all I can do is shrug.
The boys return a few minutes later. Quentin waves a pair of old gloves.
“That was really strange,” he says.
“Somebody’s got a warped sense of humor,” Tommy says.
By unspoken agreement, everyone gets out of the water.
We’re all too chilled to keep going, anyway, and not just because the river is so cold. The chill comes from inside, all scary like. My upper arm has started turning blue, then black, like it’s covered with bruises.
We start climbing up the steep bank. Quentin tries to lighten our rather grim mood.
“Man, am I starved!” he says. “Make way for the lunch eating champ.”
At the top, we get a very nasty surprise.
10. Shocking Discovery
“Our clothes!” Melissa cries.
Or rather the lack of them.
We stand around in our dripping bathing suits, stunned. The bushes where we left our clothes are now bare.
Suddenly the world seems very cold. I wrap my towel tightly around myself. Clouds hide the sun, and a chilly breeze kicks up.
“I didn’t like my T-shirt much,” Quentin says, “but this is ridiculous.”
“Somebody needs to get killed!” Melissa says.
She’s really mad but keeps her voice low. We gather close together and creep up the bank like a military unit. I don’t mind admitting to being scared, I think we’re all scared. What horrors await us at the top of the bank?
We break through the underbrush to open ground, and there we find our clothes. Somebody has tied them in knots and thrown them all over the place.
“Get a load of that!” Quentin cries.
“Wasn’t that a mean thing to do?” Tommy says.
“Somebody needs to get killed!” Melissa repeats.
We gather up our clothes and struggle with the knots, getting into a fouler mood by the second. Nobody says anything; we just keep our anger bottled up. Otherwise, we’d all be fighting each other in no time.
I know we’ve been watched ever since we got here! Before that even. If Melissa hadn’t been such a snot, I’d have said something. But oh no, she’s always got to have the last word. She’s ...
Then a horrid thought strikes me.
“The food!”
We rush back to the table. Our picnic basket is tipped over, and the food is gone! All the sandwiches, chips, fruit, everything. Wax paper and ripped potato chip bags lay scattered around. The lemonade jug has been knocked over and lies dripping in the dirt.
Melissa turns a frightful red color. “Oh, if I could just smash somebody!”
We all step out of smashing range. Then I see someone move in the underbrush.
“Over there!” I yell.
We charge, like the posse in a Saturday matinee western. The mystery person in the underbrush breaks and runs. Although he has a good head start, we rapidly catch up. Anger sends us flying along.
“Take the left flank, Tommy!” Quentin yells.
Tommy splits off to the left, and Quentin moves right so as to cut off the enemy’s retreat. Melissa and I barrel straight ahead. The suspect dashes from one tree to the next, like a scared rabbit, heading towards the playground. I can’t get a good look at him with all the underbrush and stuff in the way.
We run double hard – Melissa moves fast, but I manage to keep up. Maybe the guy has a bike nearby; maybe he’s only yards away from a successful escape. We simply have to catch him!
Finally we corner him as he tries to break from the trees by the bathrooms. The boys grab him from behind while Melissa and I face him direct.