"Don't slow down," I called. "If they're shooting off fireworks, the party is probably going to end soon. We've got to get there before he boards the plane."
"Are you sure about this plane thing?" Sydney asked.
I looked ahead, scanning the waterline.
"Look," I said, pointing.
Sure enough, there was a dark silhouette of a seaplane floating on the surface about fifty yards off the Nellie Bell's port bow. It looked to be a four-seater ... the same plane I had seen flying over the drive-in theater. Its tail and wing
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lights were on as it silently bobbed on the water, waiting to take on passengers. It was time to figure out our next step. I hoped that Britt had gotten through to the State Police and that they would be headed our way quickly, because no matter what we did, I didn't think we could keep Cayden on that boat for long.
As if reading my mind, Sydney asked, "Now what?"
"Bring us up to the port side. We'll tie up there."
"Port?" she asked.
"Left."
"Then say left."
The Nellie Bell was an old-fashioned stern-wheel paddle-boat. Britt was right--they had really done it up. Thousands of Christmas lights hung from the upper deck. Helium-filled balloons rose in colorful clusters on both decks, looking ready to lift the boat up out of the water and float away with it. The fireworks continued to explode. Everyone would be looking skyward, which meant nobody would see us coming. Sydney throttled back as we drew near. No sooner had we drifted up to the port (left) side than the skyrocket
display stopped and a cheer went up. When Sydney killed the engine, I heard music. A DJ was set up in the bow on the boat's upper level. Kids were dancing in front of the wheel-house and on either side of the deck. The party may have been nearly over, but nobody looked ready to leave. I saw at least a hundred people. I wondered how many had come from the camp and how many the Reillys had imported from their home in New York.
As the Jet Ski kissed the side of the Nellie Bell, I spotted a coil of rope that was used to tie the big boat up to the dock. I climbed up onto the deck, unwrapped several feet, and threw it down to Sydney, who wrapped it around the handlebars of the Jet Ski. My end was tied to a cleat, so we were secure. It wasn't the most shipshape work, but it
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would do the job. Sydney reached up, I grabbed her hand, and with a quick pull we were both on board the floating party.
"I don't remember what this guy looks like," Sydney said.
"I do."
"What do we do when we find him?"
"Ask me again when we do," I answered honestly.
"Are you sure the State Police are coming?"
"No."
"Great. We're all set!"
I hadn't even considered the possibility that Britt hadn't gotten through to the police, but what if she hadn't? Or they didn't believe her? Or what if Reilly had stopped her? Or worse, Gravedigger.
"You have your phone?" I asked.
"Dead," she said. "Our bloody swim, remember?"
Right. That.
"Let's just hope the police will be here," I said, and started walking.
It seemed like most of the action was on the upper deck, so that's where we headed. We climbed a staircase that led up top and emerged in the middle of a floating rave. The DJ was playing techno dance music while colored lights flashed, creating a strobe effect. Speakers were positioned everywhere, enveloping the boat in sound. Many of the kids danced with Day-Glo sticks. It was crowded. Kids were either dancing or hanging on the rails, bouncing to the music.
Sydney gave me a look as if to say, "Where to?"
I shrugged and made my way through the dancers toward the DJ at the bow. It was as good a place as any to try and find Cayden. I took a good look at every kid I passed but didn't see him. Sydney was getting the same kind of attention
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right back. Compared to most everyone there who was in logo camp gear, Sydney looked like a model in her jean shorts and tiny T-shirt. The guys stared. The girls were surprised at first, then shot dagger looks at her. A group of guys danced toward Sydney, forming a tight cluster around her. She stopped short and gave them a look that would have melted steel. They got the message and danced away.
We were halfway to the bow when the music stopped and the strobes burned white. Everyone let out a collective disappointed "Awwww!" After a speaker feedback screech a guy's voice boomed through the sound system.
"Testing, testing. Can you guys hear me?"
Everybody cheered.
"All right!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Is this the best party ever or what?"
Another cheer went up. The pilothouse blocked our view of the DJ setup, but I figured that's where the guy was.
"C'mon," I said to Sydney, and grabbed her hand to pull her forward.
"I think I gotta have more birthdays!" the guy exclaimed.
Another cheer went up. Sydney and I exchanged looks.
"That's him," I said as we pushed our way forward. Everyone else had the same idea and crowded toward the bow. I had to be aggressive to get through. I didn't make any friends.
"Thanks for coming, everybody," Cayden continued. "Next year we'll do something even bigger like, I don't know, maybe I'll get a submarine or something! Yeah!"
I rounded the pilothouse in time to see him standing in front of the DJ, who was set up on top of a locker. Cayden punched the air for exclamation.
The crowd loved it and shouted, "Woo! Yeah!"
A chant started: "Cay-den, Cay-den, Cay-den!"
Cayden was eating it up. He punched the air each time
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his name was shouted, whipping them up. Seeing him acting all cocky and arrogant made me hate him even more. This was the guy who had nearly killed my best friend. I wanted to jump up on that locker and pound him.
Sydney must have sensed my tension. She put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, "Don't do anything stupid."
I knew I wouldn't attack the guy. That wasn't me. But I couldn't promise not to do something else that was equally stupid.
"And now!" Cayden announced, holding up his hand to quiet the crowd. "My two weeks at camp are over."
Everybody let out disappointed "Awwww"s again. For whatever reason, Cayden was a popular guy. I guess putting on huge, floating parties helped with that.
"I know, I know," he said. "I'll miss you guys too, but I've got big plans for the rest of the summer. Gonna do a little river rafting on the Colorado!"
This guy really was rich.
"Yeah, isn't that awesome?" he said. "I'd take you all with me, but ... I don't want to!"
Most everybody laughed. I wanted to punch his arrogant face.
"But now I gotta fly," he said, gesturing out to the plane that was floating off the boat's bow. "Literally. You can all stay here and party until I take off, and then the boat'll take you back. In other words, when I'm done, so is the party."
"Don't move!" I yelled.
I don't know why I shouted that. I had no plan. It just came out. The crowd went dead silent. Every head turned to me. There was a moment of confusion, waiting for what I would do next. I wished I knew myself.
"Good luck," Sydney whispered. I didn't know if she was being sincere or sarcastic.
"Dude? Who are you?" Cayden asked through the speakers.
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I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and stood next to the locker, looking back at a sea of confused faces. I didn't know what words I was going to say until they came out of my mouth.
"There was an accident," I announced. "Somebody is hurt."
A concerned murmur went through the crowd. I had enough sense not to start shouting out accusations at Cayden, though I sure wanted to. All I wanted was to keep him on that boat until the State Police arrived.
"It happened a couple of nights ago!" I shouted, loud enough for everybody to hear. "Right here on the lake!"
I glanced up at Cayden. His cockiness w
as definitely gone, though I can't say for sure what replaced it. Fear? Anger? Nausea?
I continued, "Right now the State Police are headed here to ask some questions. Of everybody."
A nervous murmur went through the crowd.
"So . . . so . . . nobody can leave the boat until they get here. But that's good! It means the party keeps going!" I said this with enthusiasm, hoping everybody would shout out "Yeah!" and start dancing again.
They didn't. There was more confusion than anything else. I saw a guy who was probably the captain of the Nellie Bell leaning out of the pilothouse window. He didn't look too happy.
"Captain!" I shouted. "Let's help the police out and get this boat back to the marina!"
The guy looked confused. It didn't look like he wanted to take orders from some kid who had suddenly decided to start shouting out commands. Me. The boat didn't move.
Cayden turned to the DJ and commanded, "Play. Now."
After a second of fumbling the DJ kicked back in with some techno dance thing. The lights went out and the colored
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strobes flashed. Some people started dancing, while others milled around, not sure of what to do. I only cared about one of them. Cayden. He jumped off the locker and pushed his way through the crowd, headed toward the back of the boat. I had no doubt that he was headed for the plane. I pushed my way after him. A couple of his friends tried to stop me to ask about the accident. I stayed focused on Cayden and kept moving. He was having just as much trouble getting through the crowd as I was. His friends were clapping him on the back and trying to chest-bump him. Cayden didn't acknowledge any of them. He pushed a couple guys away, violently. He wanted off that boat.
I finally caught up to him as he was about to climb down the stairs to the lower deck. I grabbed his arm and forced him to stop.
"You can't leave," I commanded.
The music was so loud that I had to get close to him to hear.
"The hell I can't. Who are you?" he asked with a snarl.
I should have played dumb, but I was too angry. "I know what you did," I said, inches from his ear. "I saw your bashed-up boat. You better hope my friend is okay."
Cayden gave me a confused look. Or maybe it was disbelief. He thought he had gotten away with it, the way he probably got away with everything.
"You're wrong. I ... I hit some rocks," he said weakly.
"Yeah?" I shot back. "Tell that to the State Troopers. I don't think they'll believe you either."
Cayden's eyes flashed around, looking for help or a way out. He spotted something over my shoulder and smiled. He relaxed. His arrogance had returned.
"I hope you can swim," he said with a sneer.
"Why?" was all I had time to say.
"Marsh!" Sydney called out to warn me, too late.
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Cayden gave me a shove. I had been so focused on him that I hadn't realized someone had crept up behind me and opened the railing. One second I was standing facing Cayden, the next I was plummeting through the air, headed for the water. I was vaguely aware of the screams and laughter as I fell. I pin wheeled my arms and tried to twist around so I wouldn't hit at a bad angle. It didn't help much. My head went in first, which gave me an instant, painful, nasal brain-rinse. It took more than a few seconds for me to get oriented and back to the surface. I wasn't hurt, but I was angry. I looked up to the boat to see a few dozen of Cayden's obnoxious friends hanging over the railing looking down at me, laughing.
"Come on!" Sydney yelled. She had already made it down to the lower deck and was reaching out to me through the railing to help me back on board.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
I hated that question.
"Where is he?" I demanded.
We both looked around to see Cayden hurrying for the stern of the boat.
"Stop him!" I shouted to anybody who would listen.
Nobody did. Sydney and I ran after him, but we were too late. Waiting in the water near the stern was a Zodiac boat. It was all part of his grand plan for a big exit. He jumped into the inflatable raft and pushed away from the Nellie Bell just as we arrived. He gave us a cocky salute as the boat pilot hit the throttle on the outboard engine and sped away.
"He's going for the plane," Sydney said.
I ran for the Jet Ski. It was our last hope to stop him. Once he got on that plane, there would be nothing we could do. I pushed my way through the mass of people, knocking over a few as I went. It wasn't as crowded below decks, so I made it to the Jet Ski quickly. Sydney was right behind me.
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"Cast off!" she commanded as she leaped onto the craft, straddling the seat.
I unwrapped the line as Sydney powered up the engine. We had one chance. The Zodiac wasn't fast. The Jet Ski was. We had a shot at catching him on the water and Sydney knew it. I jumped on the seat behind her and barely had time to grab her waist when she hit the throttle. We shot forward, headed toward the bow of the Nellie Bell and a race to the floating plane.
"We'll get him," she said with confidence.
We cleared the bow and saw the Zodiac motoring toward the seaplane. Cayden was crouched in the stern, watching for us.
"Cut him off," I said.
Sydney pushed the Jet Ski faster. We were going to catch him. I was sure of it.
I was wrong.
I heard it before I saw it. It was the low rumble of a powerful engine. It was a new sound. At first I thought it was the Nellie Bell.
It wasn't.
We were closing in on the Zodiac. I envisioned leaping off the Jet Ski and jumping into the inflatable raft to grab Cayden and force him to confess. That was my plan, anyway.
"What is that sound?" Sydney asked, her eyes focused on the Zodiac.
The deep rumble grew louder. It wasn't the Nellie Bell. I turned around to see the white hull of a monstrous cigarette boat bearing down on us at full throttle.
Reilly was at the wheel.
Standing next to him was a copilot.
Gravedigger.
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Chapter 20
"Go! Go! Get out of here!" I screamed.
"No! We've almost got him!" Sydney yelled back.
"Forget him!"
Sydney didn't know what was happening. She hadn't been attacked by Cayden's father.
"He's going to run us down!" I shouted. "Move!"
The cigarette boat charged closer.
Sydney froze. Things were happening too quickly for her to comprehend. Instead of speeding up she took her hands off the throttle. The Jet Ski lurched to a stop. Her eyes were wide and focused on the boat. I guess you'd call it a deer in the headlights. We were seconds away from being run down by a 1,000-horsepower monster. There wasn't time to convince her that we were about to be shredded. I lunged forward, my arms wrapping around either side of her, and grabbed the handlebars myself. I cranked the throttle and
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spun the Jet Ski hard to the right. We launched just as the behemoth boat cut across our stern. The surge from its wake propelled us forward.
I stood behind Sydney, leaning over her shoulder, riding the wave and pushing the craft as fast as it could go. A quick look back showed me that Reilly was making a wide turn to come around and take another shot at us. There was no way we could outrun that big boat. Our best hope was to outmaneuver it.
"Who the hell is that?" Sydney screamed.
"Turn off the light," I ordered.
"What? No, that's dangerous!" she shouted back.
I ignored her. Sydney wasn't an idiot. It only took her a second to realize what a dumb comment that was. She reached forward and killed the running light.
"We'll head toward shore," I said. "Maybe we can lose it in the shallows."
I turned the Jet Ski toward the closest shore. We were in a spot on the lake where there were no cabins or camps. The shore was dark and thick with foliage. I felt sure we could hide there, that is, if we could get there before Reilly got us.
"It's an ill
usion, right?" Sydney said. "Like the blood. It's not really there."
I glanced back. The speedboat was coming up fast.
"It's real," I said. "It's Cayden's father. That's the boat Cayden used to run down Cooper."
I had my chin resting on Sydney's shoulder. She made no attempt to take control of the Jet Ski.
"Why is he coming after us?" she asked, confused.
"How many people do you see on that boat?" I asked.
Sydney ducked under my arm and looked back. "Two."
Her answer actually came as a relief.
"That means you see him," I said.
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"Who?"
"Gravedigger. He's somehow possessed Reilly. Maybe he's scaring him into coming after me. Or maybe Reilly just wants to protect his son. Either way Reilly wants me dead. He tried to strangle me before."
"And you didn't tell me that because . . . ?"
"Because there was already too much to tell you."
"This can't be happening," Sydney muttered, and looked behind us again.
We were several hundred yards from the safety of the shallow water. Though we were moving fast, it wasn't fast enough to get there before the cigarette boat would catch us.
"We won't make it," Sydney said. Her cool had returned. "We gotta do something."
She put her hands back on the handlebars, but I wasn't ready to give up control.
"It's okay," she said calmly. "I got it."
"This is real, Sydney," I warned. "It's no illusion. They want to kill us."
"I get it," she said. I believed her. Sydney was Sydney again. She was cool, even though the boat from hell was gaining fast. "Let go, Marsh."
I did. Reluctantly. Sydney was back in command.
The cigarette boat was nearly on us. If we maintained our speed for only a few seconds more, the boat would hit and shatter the Jet Ski . . . along with us.
"Hang on," Sydney cautioned.
She turned hard to the right without letting up on the throttle. The Jet Ski slid into the turn, moving sideways across the water's surface. We both leaned hard to the left to counterbalance the turn. For a second I thought we might flip, but the Jet Ski kept moving. It wasn't as sharp a turn as I would have liked, but it was tighter than what the cigarette boat could do. I looked back to see Reilly make the same turn,