The First Adventure (6 page)

“Sorry,” said Savannah, chastened. A search party was the last thing they needed, with Luthor hiding out here.

“Some of it's my fault,” Malachi admitted. “I was chewing their ears off about my fascinating life hanging out with eighty-year-old scientists.” He held out his hand. “Malachi Moore, from the institute.”

The two campers and the head counselor wound up riding back to their camp dock in Malachi's boat. As it turned out, Cyrus and the researcher had both grown up in the Baltimore suburbs, and talked endlessly about “the old neighborhood,” and whether or not the Ravens had the stuff to make it to the Super Bowl. Griffin was grateful for any distraction from the subject of what had drawn two campers more than a mile away from the orienteering route.

About halfway home, they could clearly hear the distant barking of a large canine.

Savannah shut her eyes and tried to will Luthor into silence. Her dog-whispering, though, didn't work from remote locations.

“Is that a wolf?” asked Malachi.

Cyrus frowned. “We had a strange incident with an animal while one of our buses was unloading.”

“It's a great view from out here,” Griffin said in an effort to change the subject.

It was going to be a really long month.

W
hen Griffin emerged from Cabin 14 in an oversized Care Bears T-shirt, even Savannah laughed.

“Considering it was your dog who ate all my stuff,” he said, tight-lipped, “I think I should get a little more respect from you!”

“I know! I'm sorry!” Savannah giggled. “But — Care Bears?”

“Marty got it from the lost and found. It was either this or a Mets shirt, and no self-respecting Yankee fan would ever wear that!”

Large grills sizzled all around the compound, and the air was fragrant with cooking smoke. Hamburgers and hot dogs were on the menu, and hungry campers waited impatiently for dinner to be ready.

“Let's put away a few burgers for Luthor,” Savannah whispered. “I don't want to run out of dog food.”

In line at the grill, they found none other than Malachi Moore helping out, making friends, and serving food.

“Cyrus invited me,” he explained, handing Griffin and Savannah a hot dog each. “He took pity on me and spared me a night of staring at protozoa through a microscope.”

“Care Bears, huh, Bing?” came Darren Vader's nasal voice. “Should have known you were a fan.”

Griffin took a bite of his hot dog. “Beat it, Vader.”

“Okay. Maybe I'll check my e-mail from back home. You learn a lot of interesting things about Cedarville when you're not there.”

Griffin frowned. “Like what?”

“Well, my mom said that guy Swindle's back in town,” Darren offered. “He came for his dog. But — funny thing — the mutt's missing. How wild is that?”

“Swindle doesn't
have
a dog!” Savannah burst out. “Luthor is mine! And he
is
missing!”

“Seems to me you're not that broken up about it,” Darren observed. “Maybe you know something I don't know.” He paused. “And maybe I know the thing you think I don't know.”

“What are you trying to say?” Griffin demanded.

Darren's expression was as unpleasant as it had ever been. “Remember the mysterious animal that attacked our bus driver? Remember the dog biscuit you tried to pass off as an energy bar? I'm saying the pooch is closer than we think. You're hiding him up here somewhere. So what's in it for me if I
don't
e-mail that information back to Cedarville?”

“What is it you think you can get out of us?” Savannah asked, mystified. “All we have is our clothes, and Griffin doesn't even have that!”

“Money,” said Darren firmly. “And maybe an iPod if you guys have one of the good ones that does Skype.”

“Oh,” said Griffin sarcastically. “In that case, I'll give you a million dollars! Because I'm a billionaire — at least I am in your deranged fantasyland where I'm hiding a dog at summer camp! Get a grip, Vader! This is too stupid, even for you!”

“Did you hear that barking today?” Darren asked innocently. “Sounded like a big dog — maybe a Doberman.”

Griffin and Savannah held an emergency meeting by the bathroom station.

“I knew the minute Vader stepped on that bus that he was trouble!” Griffin raged.

“But what are we going to
do
?” Savannah pleaded. “He
knows
about Luthor!”

“As long as he thinks he can get something out of it, he isn't going to tell anybody,” Griffin assured her. “We'll string him along, keep his hopes alive that he can blackmail us. The plan is still on track. We just have to stay cool.”

They circulated from grill to grill, collecting hot dogs and burgers to take to Luthor after the camp had gone to sleep. His pockets stuffed with meat, Griffin returned to Bunk 14 to stash the dog's dinner. But as he approached the darkened cabin, instinct made him stop on the threshold.

Someone was in there, someone with a flashlight.

“Hello?” He turned on the lights to reveal Malachi Moore, down on one knee, peering under a bed.

The young researcher jumped up. “Griffin — you startled me!”

“What are you doing in our cabin?” Griffin blurted.

“Is this your cabin? I was actually looking for the bathroom.”

For a scientist, Malachi wasn't a very good liar. No one looked for a bathroom underneath a bunk bed.

“You need the wash station,” Griffin told him, “that big building in the center of all the cabins. The boys' side is facing us.”

“Thanks,” said Malachi, and he walked out, leaving Griffin with his mind in a whirl. What could a researcher at an institute possibly be looking for at a kids' camp? Was he just a sneak thief? Or could he be something more sinister than that?

Griffin was sure he had discovered something important. But what?

* * *

After dinner, Cyrus introduced Malachi to the assembled campers.

“This is Dr. Moore, who works at the Inland Freshwater Research Institute across the lake. He's going to arrange for us to tour the lab and be their guests for lunch.”

There was thunderous applause. The facility tour would be a nice change, but the break from camp food was the real crowd-pleaser.

“I don't trust that guy,” Griffin muttered.

“Malachi?” repeated Savannah in surprise. “He's nice.”

“I just caught him poking around my cabin. He said he was looking for the bathroom.”

She shrugged. “It's not impossible.”

“On the floor under my bunk?”

Savannah tried to be reasonable. “We've been dealing with so many sleazoids lately — first Swindle, then Vader. I'm so worried about Luthor I can barely think straight. Maybe we're both being a little paranoid.”

“Maybe,” mumbled Griffin. But he did not seem convinced.

G
riffin Bing wasn't the only man with a plan.

Darren Vader was up before anyone else the next morning, tiptoeing out of Bunk 14, pausing only to drape a dirty sweat sock over the sleeping Griffin's toothbrush.

Eat my feet, Bing,
he thought triumphantly. After this morning's work, Griffin would be eating Darren's dust, too.

The sun had just barely put in an appearance, peeking out between dark gray clouds. Camp was deserted when Darren rambled across the compound. He headed east into the woods, looking for the overgrown path he'd traveled yesterday, following Griffin and Savannah. He was positive they'd hidden the dog out here somewhere. But he needed to be able to prove it.

That was his strategy. If Drysdale and Bing were too cheap to pay him for his silence, then he'd go straight to Swindle, who'd be so grateful that he'd offer a generous reward. Come to think of it, Darren liked that idea even better. An adult had more money than a couple of kids.

At last, he found the path and began to follow it. The weeds were a little wet from an early-morning shower, but the big rain was holding off so far. Perfect conditions for a walk while you planned what you were going to do with all the cash you were going to get. He kept his eyes peeled right and left. He wasn't certain what he was looking for, but there would probably be a shelter of some kind, like a cave, or maybe a little hut.

His confidence began to fade when he saw that he was approaching the lake. Had he missed it somehow? But no, there it was — a cabin, weather-beaten, low to the ground, almost consumed by vegetation.

Something clicked in his mind. That stupid story about the mechanical monster — this had to be the place Cyrus was talking about, where that nutjob ate his fishy friend and replaced him with spare parts. Maybe some of that dumb story was true. Either way, it didn't matter. There was no money in stories. Show dogs, on the other hand . . .

He approached the structure and threw open the rickety door. “Hey, mutt, there's a new sheriff in — !”

The roar that came from Luthor rattled everything in Darren's head. There was the scrambling of toenails on wood flooring, and then the Doberman was airborne, a black-and-brown shape growing ever larger in the intruder's field of vision.

Darren had only a split second to contemplate the two things he knew about this huge, ferocious animal: (1) the dog was fiercely loyal to Drysdale, and (2) anyone Drysdale didn't like, Luthor probably wasn't too fond of, either.

He ran, propelled by a terror far greater than anything he had ever known. Behind him, there was a tremendous crash, and Luthor exploded out the door, hauling behind him the broken top of an iron water pump. It smashed the door frame as it blasted through, swinging wildly at the other end of the dog's leash. The pump looked heavy, but it wasn't slowing the Doberman down.

Darren Vader had never been able to climb a tree in his life. But he went up this one, howling even louder than the animal that pursued him. He cowered on a branch, just a few inches above those slavering, snapping jaws.

* * *

The minute Griffin woke up, he could tell there was something wrong. “What's going on?” he blurted.

Marty peered in the front door. “Has anyone seen Darren this morning?”

Griffin understood instantly. Vader, that lowlife, that snail slime, was looking for Luthor. In a whirlwind, he scrambled into his clothes and ran out of the cabin. He very nearly tripped over Savannah, who was waiting for him, nearly hysterical.

“Darren's missing! I'm
positive
he's gone after Luthor!”

Griffin nodded seriously. “We've got to go find him.”

“I don't care if Darren Vader falls off the edge of the earth!” Savannah exclaimed savagely. “It's Luthor I'm worried about!”

“Think!” he ordered. “If we can't bring Darren back fast, the counselors will search every inch of the woods. They'll find Vader ­
and
Luthor, and the whole plan will be down the drain.”

Savannah looked frantic. “There are dozens of them, and only two of us!”

“But we have an advantage,” he reminded her. “We know where we're going.”

They slipped out unnoticed amid the chaos of the camp, and raced into the woods, turning right at the overgrown path that was now familiar to them. As they ran, distant sounds became more distinct — the barking of an angry dog and a plaintive human voice yelling for help.

“If Darren's done anything to harm Luthor —” Savannah began.

That wasn't how Griffin interpreted what he was hearing. But he realized it didn't matter who was winning and who wasn't. From the perspective of the plan, Luthor hurting Darren was just as bad as Darren hurting Luthor. Both would bring attention to a fugitive dog and a violated court order. The only winner would be Swindle.