The First Adventure (5 page)

At last, the deep, even breathing from seven girls told her that the coast was clear. She kicked into her sneakers and stole out of the cabin. Her feet barely touching the ground, she scampered through the shadows to the meeting place — a small stand of bushes near the flagpole.

“Griffin!” she hissed.

No reply.

Oh, no! What if he fell asleep by mistake?
Would she have the courage to wander around these woods alone? Of course she would! For Luthor, she would walk through fire!

But her planned heroics were not necessary. In another few seconds, Griffin was crouched there beside her.

“Sorry I'm late,” he whispered. “Vader put a frog in my bed, and there was a big stink about it. It took forever to get people to sleep.”

“Let's go,” she urged. “I'm freaking out!”

The woods were so dense and so dark that their flashlight beams lit only a few feet in front of them. They didn't dare shout for fear of being heard back at camp. So they called softly:

“Luthor —”

“I'm here, sweetie . . . where are you?”

They walked into the woods as deep as they dared. There was no sign of the Doberman.

Griffin was becoming confused. “I thought dogs could smell their owners from miles away. You didn't take a shower, did you?”

“Luthor's not used to the wild,” Savannah explained, her heart sinking. “There must be hundreds of unfamiliar scents out here distracting him. But maybe . . . Griffin, have you got your phone? Call my cell, right now!”

“Why? I'm standing right next to you.”

“Just do it!”

Griffin hit her number on his speed dial.

Savannah set her volume up to maximum. Her ring tone seemed to reverberate all through the woods around them — Elvis Presley's “Hound Dog.” It played for about fifteen seconds before going to voicemail. “Call again!”

Griffin did. “Hound Dog” rang through the forest. After eight tries, Savannah put down her phone, and the regular nighttime sounds of the woods returned.

Griffin sighed. “It was a good try, Savannah —”

And then a new noise joined the chirping of crickets and the calls of night birds, distant at first, but growing louder and closer by the second. Something was out there, and it was really moving! The faint snapping of twigs became a crashing through underbrush.

Savannah could not remain silent. “Luthor — sweetie!” The answering bark was almost human in its yearning.

The Doberman burst out of the trees straight into Savannah's arms, whimpering his love and relief.

Savannah whimpered back, “Luthor, I'm so sorry we have to do this to you! It's the only way to keep you safe!”

The reunion could have gone on all night, but Griffin stepped in to keep the plan moving along. They backtracked to the camp, skirting the bunks, cutting straight to the beach, and then east along the shore.

“Cyrus said the cabin was three-quarters of a mile away,” Griffin mused, “but keep your eyes peeled. He's a counselor, not a mapmaker.”

The going was tougher when the beach ended and they had to make their way over marshy terrain. Griffin's sneakers sank into the mud, adding yet another article of clothing that was beyond repair. He wondered if the “special fund” would cover a new pair of shoes.

They had been walking for about half an hour when they spotted an ancient rowboat, partially buried in the mud and silt of the shore.

“Where there's a boat . . .” Griffin began.

Savannah finished his thought: “. . . there's a person who owned it and sailed it. And that person had to live somewhere.”

If it hadn't been for the full moon, they might very well have missed the cabin. It was ramshackle and overgrown by shrubs and tall grass. The roof sagged.

“Boy,” Griffin breathed. “When I imagine a dead man's shack, this is pretty much it.”

Savannah was determined to show Luthor that all was well. She believed that even though animals couldn't always understand your words, your tone of voice communicated a much more important message. “Isn't this wonderful, sweetie? And you have it all to yourself.” They stepped inside, scattering a family of field mice. “And lots of new friends for company.”

“The only thing missing is the frozen body of Randolph Zim,” Griffin added. “Or maybe that's buried under the floorboards.”

“It's a wonderful place,” Savannah said firmly, “and Luthor loves it.”

The Doberman certainly didn't mind eating in his new home. Savanna popped open the can of dog food she had brought, and Luthor fell on the offering like a starving shark.

Griffin had a practical question. “What if he takes off again? He chewed through a zippered bag — not to mention all my clothes. This rickety old dump won't hold him. There's no glass in the windows, and the door won't even latch.”

Savannah nodded reluctantly. “We'll have to tie him. But I want him to have a long lead. If he feels like a prisoner, he'll fight to get away.” She got down on her knees and attached the leash to the handle of a heavy iron water pump.

Griffin looked grim. “It's nothing compared with the kind of prisoner he'll be if Swindle gets hold of him.”

* * *

Judge Franklin Bittner leaned over his desk and peered down at Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale. “What do you mean ‘disappeared'?”

“I know it sounds suspicious, considering the circumstances,” Mr. Drysdale tried to explain. “But we think he ran away. It's been three days, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him. We've contacted animal control, and there are no Dobermans anywhere in the county.”

“Why don't you try contacting your own kid?” S. Wendell Palomino accused angrily. “Or one of her accomplices, like that Bing delinquent?”

“Savannah is at camp right now,” Mrs. Drysdale defended her daughter. “And so are all her friends. None of them had anything to do with Luthor running away.”

Swindle spread his arms wide. “Your Honor — really? Doesn't this all seem convenient? The kids disappear and Luthor does, too? Don't you see this is just a scam to keep my dog from me?”

“I'll be the judge of that,” Bittner said mildly. “That's why they call me ‘judge.'”

“But, Your Honor, you're a reasonable man!” Palomino pleaded. “This is so obvious! Coincidences like this don't happen in real life!”

“You'd be surprised at the coincidences you see when you sit on this bench, Mr. Palomino. But —” He turned steely gray eyes to the Drysdales. “If it turns out that this is
not
a coincidence, you'll learn that violating a court order has very serious consequences.”

O
rienteering was one of the top activities at Camp Ebony Lake since the dense trees provided such a challenge to anyone navigating with a compass. It was also one of the few activities where boys and girls competed together. So Griffin and Savannah made sure they were partners for the next day's competition.

“This is perfect,” Griffin murmured as they marched through the underbrush, consulting their instruction sheet not at all. “Getting lost is part of the sport. So no one's going to ask any questions when we disappear.”

“So long as we get to see Luthor,” Savannah said fervently. “I can't bear the thought of him out there, all alone.”

Griffin tried to perk up her spirits. “He can take care of himself. It's not like the mechanical monster's going to come out of the lake and eat him.”

Savannah glared at him. “If that's your idea of humor —”

“Oh, please,” Griffin scoffed. “You didn't fall for that stuff, did you? It's standard campfire scare tactics. Pure cheese.”

“I'm not stupid,” she snapped. “I just don't like jokes about Luthor being in danger.”

At first, the woods were full of the other teams, counting off paces and following their instruction sheets. But as they got farther from the camp, the crowd began to thin out. They were trying out an overgrown path that Griffin had noticed that morning, hoping it might be a shortcut to Luthor's cabin, one that bypassed the shore route.

“I'm pretty sure this is it,” Griffin announced. “If we keep going straight —”

The snapping of a twig behind them made them jump.

“Is someone there?” Savannah demanded. There was no answer.

“We heard you,” Griffin announced. “Show yourself.”

A stocky figure stepped out from behind a bramble, grinning wolfishly. “Wow, how about this Cedarville reunion right up here at Ebony Lake!”

“Vader!” Griffin seethed. “I should have known it would be you! Where's your orienteering partner?”

Darren shrugged. “I ditched him. I'm not much of a compass jockey. I'm more interested in other stuff — like what you meant when you said, ‘If we keep going straight.' What are you looking for, Bing? What are you guys up to?”

“We're orienteering, like you're supposed to be,” Savannah retorted.

“Yeah, right. You don't even have a compass.”

“Sure we do.” Griffin reached into his pocket for the instrument. What he drew out instead was a Puppy Treat he had brought for Luthor.

Darren's eyes bulged. “Is that a
dog biscuit
?”

“This? Of course not! It's a high protein bar!” There were moments, Griffin knew, when a sacrifice had to be made in order to protect the plan. This was one of those moments. Without hesitation, he popped the bone-shaped cookie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, stifling his gag reflex. The thing tasted meaty, like the way he remembered liver. “It's awesome,” he managed. “Lots of fiber, too.”

“Darren!” came an annoyed voice from the woods. Marty appeared amid the trees. “What are you doing? Scotty's all the way back by the boulders. Come on. The clock's ticking.”

“Well, what about these guys?” Darren asked in annoyance. “They're not doing it right, either.”

“Yeah, but you're not doing it at all. Let's go.” He waved to Griffin and Savannah. “You guys okay?”

Griffin waved back. “We'll figure it out. Bye, Darren.”

And the counselor left, with Darren in tow.

Now that Darren was out of the picture, they were free to follow the overgrown path. Sure enough, it led to the shore just west of Luthor's cabin. Still tethered to the long rope, the Doberman came out to greet them, and there was another joyous reunion with Savannah.

Savannah unhooked the leash from the pump handle, and Luthor galloped and played like a small puppy. At one point, he mistook the flat expanse of lake for an open plane, and was the most surprised creature on earth to find himself swimming instead of running.

He was less excited by the idea of being tethered to the leash again. Even Savannah's dog-whispering wasn't quite convincing enough. His canine brain was having trouble understanding the purpose of this strange place that had no houses and no cars, and was so unlike home. But there was Savannah, and there was food, and that was all he'd ever needed before.

Leery of a second Darren sighting, they took the lake-side route back to camp. They were approaching the beach, inventing stories for what had gone wrong with their orienteering, when a small powerboat came in close to shore. The driver cut the motor and anchored the craft close to where they stood. He swung a leg over the side and dropped into the knee-deep water, protected by high hip waders.

“A little off course, aren't you?” he asked in a friendly tone. “Everybody else is way over on the other side.”

Griffin shrugged. “Maybe
they're
lost.”

The young man looked startled for a moment, and then threw back his head and laughed. “Maybe,” he agreed. He was probably in his late twenties, with a manner that instantly put both campers at their ease. He opened a belt pack of small vials and began to collect samples from the lake. “Malachi Moore. Pleased to meet you. I'm with the Inland Freshwater Research Institute — you know, the squints across the lake.”

“I'm Griffin, and this is Savannah.”

Malachi placed the filled bottles into a small box. “So what do you two do for fun around here, besides not orienteering?”

“The usual camp stuff, I guess,” Griffin replied. “What about you? What do you do for fun at the institute?”

“Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. We check our water samples for bacterial levels and acid rain. And we're on a first-name basis with a whole lot of fish.”

“Hey, you two —” Head counselor Cyrus emerged from the woods. “You're totally off the map. I thought we were going to have to send out a search party.”