Free Sony EBooks: Free ebook sample of "Adventures in Reading" by Debra Chapoton

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE FORBIDDEN TUNNELS

CHAPTER 1 The Giant Dryer

I don’t know how I got into this building. Sometimes that happens to me in this place. I don’t think it’s memory loss or anything magical. It just is. When I say “I suddenly found myself outside”, well, that’s really what happens.

My name is Nick Bazebahl. Yup, you’re right, it sounds like a sport and I can live up to my name, no problem. My dad thinks I’m the star of Little League.

But back to the building I found myself in.

There were a lot of kids, mostly older than me. Taller, for sure. They were busily moving around. I saw a couple of guys step out of the giant round openings of what looked like room-sized washing machines.

Front loaders. I peered into one after some middle school kids turned the corner. Clothing was stuck to the far inside wall of the machine and had to be peeled off like Velcro. I know because that’s what I did. I peeled off some nice jeans and a dark blue tee-shirt.

I needed a new disguise. Stealing someone’s freshly washed laundry would have to do. After all, I was pretty noticeable in this bright orange shirt and torn jeans.

But before I could change I suddenly found myself outside.

I walked around the building looking for an entrance and finally found one at the walk-out basement level. A line of people stretched twenty feet or so with each person pushing a wheeled laundry basket. You know the kind – prisoners escape in them all the time on shows I watch when the babysitter is over.

Just so you know, the babysitter is watching my younger sister, Gracie.

Anyway, I didn’t think this was the way I had entered the first time. Darn, I knew there would be challenges when I came here.

I cut in line behind a woman with a skirt the size of my uncle’s pole barn. No one complained that I took cuts. They probably couldn’t see me.

I took the first set of stairs up two flights and followed the woman as she went to the right. It was habit, I guess, from following my mom (not that my mom has a big butt, she doesn’t).

This lady I was following went into a room with a swimming pool. It was HUGE! As she went to the changing room I took off the orange shirt and holey jeans right there. I was glad to see I was wearing some fairly new underwear. I wrapped myself in one of the softest white towels I had ever felt. Then I went looking for the giant washing machines again. A towel disguise wouldn’t be the smartest thing to run in, I know, but . . . well, at least I wouldn’t stand out. Strange as it seems almost everyone I passed was wearing a white towel.

I followed the winding hallway. A hint of dryer lint and fabric softener in the air was guiding me.

Then suddenly an announcement blared from speakers in the ceilings. The Monitors were here! I didn’t just need clothes now. I needed a really quick escape route.

CHAPTER 2 Running down the Hill

I followed a woman that looked a lot like my mom (smaller butt, long brown hair). I watched her pull armloads of pants, shirts, underwear and sheets from one of the machines. She heaped them in a pile on a long folding table and then went back to the giant machine.

She crouched and entered it. It was really big. I guess she had to peel off the stuff that got stuck to the back.

I took my chances and I grabbed what I wanted from the table. I wanted anything blue, not pink. Not purple. Then I ducked into an open machine to change. That’s right. These machines were bigger than the closets at our old apartment.

I was fast. Fast like “you have five minutes, Nick, before we have to leave for your ballgame” not fast like “the school bus will be here soon, you don’t want to miss it, do you?”

I hurried to one of the small windows that looked out toward a fading sunset.

Huh? This was weird. I wasn’t the only sloppy dressed kid trying to escape this place. Dozens of other kids were jumping out. They were landing on the loose dirt and sand-surfing down the steep hillside. Most were in clothes too baggy or too tight. Lots of pink among the girls.

I wiggled through the opening and did the same surfing run down the hill. My arms flapped at my sides as I tried to keep my balance. Everyone was running away from the building. No one was yelling or screaming, not even the girls. Super weird. It felt just like something was chasing us, but when I looked back all I saw was the red wall of that strange place. Suddenly, everything was dark.

CHAPTER 3 The Cliff

I was in the woods now and the lights from the building didn’t penetrate into the forest. My eyes adjusted pretty quickly, though. As I followed the others I noted that they were veering off in three separate directions. A pair of kids, teenagers probably, were heading left followed by several moms, all plump. (I’m not allowed to say fat.)

Down the center trail went a bunch of girls. Now, finally, they were making noise, giggling. I felt I better stick with the guys so I went right. That meant I had to follow a guy in a soccer uniform. Good disguise, dog. But I could barely see who he was following.

One last look behind and I knew I had just made it out of there in time. The spotlights were scanning everywhere. I turned and fell. Straight. Straight down. Straight down a slippery tube.

If I wasn’t so scared I would have laughed and enjoyed the ride. It lasted a full minute – sixty microwave seconds – and I felt hotter and hotter. The sliding slowed as the tunnel evened out. I had to crawl out the last three feet.

“Bazebahl, over here,” someone whispered. Who could know my name?

“We’ve got a hard case here,” she said. She was an ageless woman, maybe thirty-five, maybe sixty. She looked a lot like every teacher at my school. Her nametag said ‘Mabel Jackson’ and I glanced down at my own chest to see that somehow I had a stick-on nametag, too. It said ‘Nick Bazebahl’ and had my picture, too. It was my school picture, the retake from last spring with my hair about as short as it’s ever been.

When I looked up again I realized that the lady had just said something about a case.

“A hard case?” I echoed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I couldn’t imagine what she meant.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right, you’ll have a little trouble with your memory for a while. That’ll pass. Just follow me for now,” she said. “It’s almost midnight, we don’t want to be late.”

Memory thing? Well, that sort of made sense. I could not in a million years figure out how I got here or what I was supposed to do. I must be experiencing some kind of memory blackout. Cool.

I started following her. I wondered what we were going to be late for. And midnight? It was almost midnight? Awesome. I hope it’s a school night.

The sky got more black. Suddenly there was a boom of thunder and lightning and the rain poured down in sheets. Miss Jackson led me to a high, rocky bluff and we crouched down and looked over. The straight river below held a steamboat trapped on a rock. With every flash our eyes registered the progress of a small raft that was heading directly toward the boat.

“That’s Jim!” I shouted to Miss Jackson, as I wiped my eyes and face clear of the cold rain. I wondered how I knew it was Jim. Jim who?

“Of course,” she answered. “And we’re here to save him and the little guy with him.”

CHAPTER 4 The Growling

I should have been confused by Mabel Jackson’s statement, but, oddly, I knew she was right and we were definitely here on this bluff about to save two poor people on a raft. Double awesome. I must have grown some new memories to replace the old or something.

But how were we going to save this Jim and this little guy? We had no tools, no equipment of any kind. At least I didn’t. I looked toward this nice lady and waited for the next flash of lightning.

And there it was. Flash! Ka-boom!

An image of her was burned into my eyes with hot redness. Her hair was plastered to her head. There was a strap across her shoulder and a large bag under her arm.

“What’s in your bag?” I asked, turning my attention back to the flickering boat lights below. I could just make out the square shape of the raft entering a circle of light.

“The usual,” she said, “ipad, knives, guns and for back up: paper and pencils.”

Did I hear right?

“Oh, and a flashlight, of course,” she added as she shined a narrow beam in my face. Then she fanned the light over my body and asked, “Where’s your bag? Didn’t you pick it up?”

My hesitation must have made her think I was somebody else, maybe, even though I had the right nametag.

“Are you Nick? Who are you?”

And then her flashlight glowed over the larger duffel bag behind me. Only a few scattered raindrops were splish-splashing on it now. “Oh, there it is. Open it, would you?”

The zipper stuck every couple of inches, but I managed to force it open. Inside was another flashlight. There was also a rope and a ton of rock climbing gear. Cool. I could rock climb. I went twenty feet up the rock wall at the indoor center. Higher than even Matt Jennings and it was his birthday party.

Oops, I had to hurry. The sound of the raft cracking up below was not the only reason I rushed to pull the supplies out. The growling close to my left ear was louder than any mean German Shepherd I’ve ever heard.

CHAPTER 5 Another Tunnel

As the growling grew louder and the snorts produced some foggy, and stinky, hot breaths, I slipped over the side of the cliff. Old Miss or Mrs. Jackson was already below me, going down faster than you’d think an old lady could go.

The crash of the waves below told me when I was near enough to look down. It’s not a good idea to look down before you’re still far enough to break a bone. I caught some good footing and finished the drop by swinging into a cave. Yes, convenient, I know.

“Watch out,” Miss Jackson said as she grabbed me around the waist and kept me from landing in, or rather diving through, the hole in the cave floor. “Now listen.”

The language we heard coming from the steamboat and the raft was really, really old fashioned. Kind of like the black and white movies my grandparents think we like to watch with them.

There was cussing and a whole lot of “the n word”. I was really shocked, but Miss Jackson just kept scribbling notes. My cousin has some really nasty rap stuff he let my brother and me listen to. That is, until mom walked in. Anyway, this sort of sounded like that, but I didn’t think my mom or grandma would have minded this as much. It wasn’t said mean-like or nothing. Somehow it fit.

“Start writing! They trust us. We’re doing good here.” Miss Jackson hissed, thrusting her paper and pencil at me. She turned on her recording device and started capturing the dialogue. I didn’t see the point in my taking notes. I couldn’t write near as fast as she had been, or as well. Still, I got myself out of the tangle of the ropes and gave it my best shot.

It seemed to take hours and when I looked up we weren’t outside at all. We were standing in an old-fashioned farmhouse bedroom, peering out from a crack in the nearly closed closet door. An old woman with a bonnet on her head was shaking her finger at a boy coming out from under the bed, another boy was huddled under the sheets.

“Enough,” Jackson whispered, dropping her device into her bag. She held it open for me to toss in the paper and pencil. Then she stepped back and disappeared through a hole in the floor.

But not before she grabbed my ankle. I flew after her, bumping against the smooth sides of yet another tunnel.

You have finished the first 5 chapters of NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE FORBIDDEN TUNNELS. This book is available in paperback as well as in digital e-book form. The TUNNELS series continues with

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE RED TUNNELS,

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE WORMHOLE TUNNELS,

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE MINING TUNNELS,

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE CARTOON TUNNELS,

NICK BAZEBAHL AND THE FAKE WITCH TUNNELS, and more.

If you’d like to purchase any of these books please go to the author’s page at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/DebraChapoton or her website: http://www.bigpinelodgebooks.com

Please continue reading samples. Next is

THE SECRET IN THE HIDDEN CAVE

Chapter 1

The key. It was suddenly very clear that the key in Missy’s back pocket wasn’t an ordinary key. The rock ledge that she and Jessica were on, wide enough for several more people but still high enough to make their stomachs jittery, wasn’t an ordinary ledge either. The rock ledge seemed artificially formed, although from a distance it would be impossible to detect that. All of the gouges and pockmarks were actually impressions of different keys: large, small, thin, thick. Some indentations were deep, some were shallow, and all were spaced unevenly over the entire false rock face.

“Give me the key, Missy,” Jessica panted, still out of breath from their climb, “this has to be the way in. We’ll be able to save Kevin and get out of here before they know we’re missing.”

Missy carefully took the key out of her pocket, this was not the place to be accidentally dropping things, and handed it to Jessica who reached as high as she could to compare the key to the top left impression.

“What do you think will happen if it fits?” Missy whispered. “Think it will just automatically open?”

“It’s worth a try.” Jessica had dismissed the first several impressions and was slowly moving her hand down the rock, comparing the tiny indentations with the strange pattern of the key. She held it between her thumb and first finger so she could find the match just as if she were doing another 500-piece puzzle, looking for the partner to the piece in her hand. “This is going to take a while. There must be a thousand possibilities here.”

Suddenly both girls froze as they heard a rustling in the underbrush twenty or thirty feet below them. Missy needed to swat a mosquito but was afraid to move. Perched where they were they knew that from below they were invisible, but their voices would give them away. Had they been whispering too loudly? The mosquito that had been buzzing Missy’s face had now moved to her knee and landed. She glanced down and saw the tiny insect glistening gold in the afternoon sunlight. She stared. The mosquito really was golden and it was not about to bite her, but instead it seemed to be leading her to look to the last key mark near her foot.

“Pssssst,” Missy motioned to Jessica and pointed out the key mark where the false rock met the ground. Jessica passed her the key and held her breath. There was another sound below, a sort of “humph”, like someone clearing his throat. Missy bent down, crossed her fingers on her left hand and pressed the key hard into the rock outline with her right hand.

There was a whooshy sound, an inhuman sigh, and the false rock started to slowly open. But it was pushing outward and Missy had nowhere to step to from her crouching position. She started to stand and move toward Jessica who was stretching out her hand. The rock door was pushing out and slowly upwards, too, but she wasn’t sure if she could reach Jessica or duck under the opening before it pushed her off the ledge. What a stupid place to put the keyhole, she thought, there should be a better entrance! She decided to try to cling to the bottom of the rock door as it swung out and up. She grabbed at the indentations; some were deep enough to provide a handhold. Her left hand seemed to have a good hold but her right hand scraped down and dislodged the key. Instinct made her grab for it before it fell forever lost below.

Jessica gasped, “Look out, Missy!” Missy was losing her balance even though the door was no longer pushing outward only upward.

There was a loud mechanical grumble below them in the underbrush as well as a hoarse voice, definitely human, rasping: “Gotcha!”

Missy had heard stories about people whose whole lives flashed before their eyes when they thought they were about to die. Time seemed to slow way down but it wasn’t her whole life that flashed before her. She thought of March. Last March, when this unbelievable adventure had begun…

Chapter 2

March

Missy had been doing her favorite thing: watching reruns and eating chips. Not potato chips, chocolate chips. She didn’t have any friends, not here anyway. She had friends back home but it wasn’t home anymore since her mom and she had moved from the nice warm south to this cooler state. Cold actually. When they arrived in January it had been snowing and a blizzard had closed school on the first day she was going to go. She probably shouldn’t have complained so much about the cold and snow to her new classmates, or rather, she shouldn’t have bragged about the 75-degree weather she had just left. She had gotten off to a bad start but a few of the girls were starting to be friendlier, now that her tan had started to fade. She was just thinking how her life was like this rerun she was watching, boring, predictable, when her mom came into the den and sat down next to her.

“Missy, this weekend we’re driving up north to visit someone,” her mom said.

“You mean there’s someplace more north than here?”

“Yup, don’t you want to know who we’re going to see?”

“Who?”

“Your father’s grandfather.”

Missy’s father died when she was four and she only had warm, fuzzy memories of a big, strong, nice-smelling man reading her stories. She had met her grandparents lots of times but she didn’t even realize that she had a great-grandfather.

“He must be ancient.”

“Very,” her mother replied, “he must be almost a hundred, but he still lives all by himself. Your dad didn’t get to know him because your grandfather had had a big fight with him a long time ago and they quit speaking.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know, but anyway, your great-grandfather got in touch with me after your father died and I’ve been meaning to take you to see him for the last eight years. It was always too far and we couldn’t afford the trip, but now it’s just a four or five hour drive away. We’ll leave very early Saturday morning. Sound like fun?”

“Not exactly,” Missy said and then saw the disappointed look on her mother’s face. She quickly added, “but I’m sure it will be interesting.” Yeah, right, she thought, some hundred-year-old stranger/relative is going to be interesting and fun.

Early Saturday morning they ate breakfast and packed sandwiches and drinks for a picnic along the way. Missy looked over her mother’s shoulder and they both studied the road map that was unfolded on the kitchen table. The majority of the trip would be mostly expressway but the last forty miles or so it was going to be tricky. Not all of the smaller roads’ names appeared on the map. There were lots of lakes, state forests, and campgrounds. There were other odd looking symbols on the map and Missy was just about to ask her mom what they meant when her mom said, “Well, I have a general idea of where we’re going, and he does have a telephone, so we can call if we get lost. He may live in the sticks but it’s not like someone in the area wouldn’t know where Big Pine Lodge was and who Mr. Stark is.”

“Mr. Stark?” Missy just realized that she hadn’t even considered that her father’s grandfather would of course have the same last name, a name that had caused her a little bit of grief when some older boys had teased her and called her Stork. Hey, stork, what long skinny legs you have. Hey, stork, deliver any babies recently? Name-calling could be so mean. “What was, I mean, is, his first name? And what do I call him? Great-grandpa?”

“His name is John Washington Stark and I guess you can call him Great-grandpa. You’ll have to ask him. I really can’t tell you much more. I’ve talked to him on the phone a couple of times. He seemed nice, not a crotchety old geezer. He said he especially wanted to give you something.”

“What?”

“He didn’t say.”

Hmm. A mystery. What would an almost hundred-year-old person have to give to a twelve year old girl he had never met? Money? That would be good. Jewelry? Maybe the lodge itself! No, it was probably some dumb worthless heirloom like his wife’s wedding ring. Sentimental value only. Missy sat staring out the car window trying to think of any other possibilities. She was so completely lost in thought that she didn’t even notice it had started to snow.

Her mother laughed and said, “I should have checked the weather report for up here. We might need boots and warmer jackets.”

Missy came out of her trance and gasped, “My gosh, I didn’t know it would still be snowing in March! It’s so pretty.”

Large fluffy flakes swirled down and started to cover the brownish-green shoulders of the expressway and the median between the north and southbound lanes. No flakes stuck to the highway, though, they just seemed to dodge away from the tires of the cars in front of them, as if they were playing a flying game of tag. Missy was hypnotized by the sight and soon fell asleep, her head bobbing forward until her mother applied the brakes and slowed the car to exit.

“Ow, my neck hurts. How long have I been sleeping?”

“Half an hour.”

“Wow, there must be two inches of snow. Where are we?”

“We are at the hard part. Spread the map on your lap so I can see it.”

Missy opened the map and found the exit number her mother had marked. “Looks like you turn right here and we go about a half an inch to Gunther Road,” Missy said.

“Half an inch, huh? What’s that, about two or three miles?”

“No, the legend says one inch equals ten miles, so it’s about five miles from here.”

They drove on slowly over the now white and slippery country roads. They had no trouble finding Gunther Road or the next six turns but they both agreed that it was taking too long and they were hungry. Since they hadn’t seen any other cars for the last ten minutes they simply stopped and ate their sandwiches in the car with the engine running. The snow stopped and the sun came back out. There was a sign on their right that they couldn’t read before because it was covered with sticky, wet snow. Suddenly it all slid off and revealed a startling truth: Welcome to Starkville, population 125.

“Starkville!” Missy proclaimed. “Mom, there’s a town named after us!”

“After your ancestors, I guess. I had no idea. It’s too small to be printed on this map.” They looked at each other and laughed. It was only five more miles but they missed the last turn and had to double back. There was a sign at an unmarked lane that said, “Seasonal road, not plowed by road commission” and they both agreed that this was most likely their last turn. The car moved slowly down what seemed to be a disappearing road with heavy woods on either side. They couldn’t see very far ahead because the road would either dip or turn. The snow clinging to the evergreens gave it a very picturesque and Christmassy feel but Missy’s mother seemed more than a little nervous about driving on the snow. If another car came toward them there was nowhere to go but backwards. Missy, however, was thinking that she would like to come back in the summer and explore the woods.

“Look! A fort!” At the side of the narrow road was an old wooden structure. Real logs had been set vertically into the ground and their tops had been cut into points. There were small slit-like window openings on the two sides that could be seen from the road. Missy was enthralled with the crude structure. It was about the size of a kid’s playhouse. It would be a neat place to spy on visitors, she thought. And just as that thought crossed her mind she noticed footprints in the snow at the far side of the fort. She looked again at the small windows. She couldn’t see anyone there but she was sure that she felt someone looking back at her.

They made a sharp right then a sharp left turn and saw a large brown sign with green lettering: Big Pine Lodge. The sign was very rustic and yet seemed to Missy to be promising something very special ahead. One more turn through thick pine trees and the promise was revealed. Big Pine Lodge was enormous. It was a dark brown log building three stories high. It looked like Paul Bunyan had used giant Lincoln Logs to build it. There was a huge porch across the entire front with two large porch swings to the right and the left of the double front doors. The swings were gently swaying and the snow had blown little piles of downy drifts onto the seats. The windows on the second and third floors were evenly spaced and the steeply pitched roof guaranteed an attic. Missy jumped out of the car and ran up the four wide steps to the lodge’s porch. The front doors were larger than normal and carved with a scene of fish jumping out of a lake. There was a large old-fashioned keyhole. There was no knocker or doorbell so Missy started pounding on the door. She even jiggled the doorknob and tried to look through the keyhole but something was stuffed in the other side.

“I don’t think anyone is going to answer, Missy,” her mom said. “Look.”

Missy turned to see her mother pointing off to the left. Now that she was on the porch she could see a dozen small cabins nestled in the pines at the side of the lodge. It looked like the lodge had had twelve identical babies. They were cute little mini-lodges, same style, same color. Each one had a stone chimney but only the first two had smoke, and, she now noticed, footprints.

Her mother motioned for her to follow and said, “He probably lives in the cabin during the winter and closes the lodge.”

Missy intently followed exactly in her mother’s footprints in the snow but out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a flash of red. She stopped still and turned her head. She only saw more pine trees and leafless oaks and maples. It would be impossible to see very far into the woods when all the trees leafed out in the summer, she thought. A person could really sneak around then. But where would someone hide now? Behind that fat pine? Maybe. Her eyes followed the lines of the bark up the tree. There were no lower branches to climb on but there was what looked like a platform on the strong upper branches high up. Another flash of red up there! She was definitely being spied on. Missy ran to the base of the fat pine tree and circled it. On the back side there were pieces of two by fours nailed at one foot intervals making a ladder up the old tree. But from this side the platform above wasn’t visible.

“Missy, come on!” her mother yelled.

Missy crossed back over to her mom’s side, determined not to give the “spy” the satisfaction of a backward glance at the tree fort. She kept her eyes straight ahead and was surprised to see that the lodge and all of the cabins were facing a beautiful little lake. She could see a stone house on the far side but that was the only other residence on the lake.

They came around to the front of the cabin and knocked on the door. They could hear a TV set go from loud to mute and then the door opened. Missy was half expecting an old Santa Claus or else a gruff old Scrooge type but what she noticed first was a big grinning smile. His teeth were white and probably false but the smile was so genuine and happy that she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“You must be Kimberly,” he said to Missy’s mother.

“Yes, I’m Kim, Mr. Stark, and this is my daughter, your great-granddaughter, Missy.”

“Oh, call me John. And you, little Missy, you can call me Great-Grandpa. Or just Great for short. Ha, ha, ha, ha!” His laugh was as infectious as his grin and Missy liked him immediately. His eyes, behind large glasses, were watery but friendly. He had two hearing aids that were half hidden by a fringe of silver gray hair. The top of his head was bald but he had a long gray beard and no mustache. He had been a big man once but now he was a little bit stooped over. Such an old person should have a walker or at least a cane, but he moved away from the door and gestured them into the cabin quickly and smoothly. They closed the door behind them and sat down on a green loveseat that was facing the fireplace. The room was cozy but cramped. Besides the loveseat there was an old rocking chair, an easy chair, a TV, a computer desk and a hutch. The room was open to the kitchen, which was just a wall with a stove, refrigerator, sink and a short counter. A coffee pot, microwave, and toaster limited the workspace on the counter. A small table and four wood chairs divided the kitchen and living room. There was a door that led to the bathroom and bedroom but it was closed.

“Can I get you some coffee or hot chocolate? It’s already made. I just have to stick it in the microwave.” He was already moving toward the kitchenette so they both agreed to hot chocolate.

They spent a half an hour getting acquainted and Missy was actually thinking that this was fun and interesting. She had learned that her great-grandfather and great-grandmother had built Big Pine Lodge sixty years ago. The original lodge was much smaller and had burned down many years ago but they had rebuilt it and added the cabins. There was an owners’ apartment in the lodge that her great-grandfather used when the lodge was open, April to September, but he said that as soon as the weather turned cold he would always move into the first cabin for the winter. He got very sad sounding when he spoke of her great-grandmother whom he referred to as “the Mrs.” Missy was curious to know what her name was and so she asked.

“I called her Missy,” he said with a smile, “but her real name’s a mystery.” He laughed that funny laugh of his again and Missy laughed too.

She turned to her mom and asked, “Was I named after her?”

Her mom looked puzzled and answered, “Maybe. Your dad and I had an agreement that I would get to name you if you were a boy and he would name you if you were a girl. I always thought that maybe he had an old girlfriend by that name but I never asked.”

Old Mr. Stark just chuckled and said, “Another mystery. We have lots of mysteries and secrets around here. I’ll tell you a secret I’ll bet you never knew. I knew your dad pretty well. Even though I haven’t spoken to my own son, your grandfather Jacob, in forty years, his mother would bring him here when Jacob went out of town on business. Sometimes they would stay for two weeks at a time but we would have to keep it a big secret. It was hard to deceive Jacob but your grandmother felt really strongly that your dad should know us. Now don’t you go getting your grandmother into trouble by spilling the beans.”

“I never knew this,” Kim Stark said. “Missy’s dad sure was a loyal secret keeper.”

“Yes, and when he was Missy’s age he had a boxful of secrets,” he laughed again and leaned forward in the easy chair, his beard nearly touching his lap. He looked at Missy and said, “I want to talk to your mother a bit but you can go and explore the lodge if you’d like. I’ll get Kevin to show you around.” Without waiting for a reply or explaining who Kevin was Mr. Stark eased out of the chair and opened the front door. There was an old black triangle on a stand just outside the door and he took the metal gong rod and with a circular motion hit all three sides of the triangle a couple of times. It was quite loud and echoed across the lake and back. It wasn’t ten seconds before a boy in a red jacket and jeans appeared at the door. Mr. Stark introduced him as Kevin Jackson whose parents he employed as the lodge’s managers and general caretakers.

Chapter 3

“Kevin, give Missy the grand tour of the lodge,” he said as he reached into his pocket and took out a large silver key. It was on a chain with a penlight. He handed it to Kevin who nodded and turned to go out the door without waiting for Missy. She grabbed her coat and quickly followed. Kevin had stopped just outside the door and Missy bumped into him.

“I’m sorry,” she said but he just smiled and started to walk toward the lodge. He was slightly taller than Missy and had dark brown curly hair. He’s either shy, stupid, or mute, Missy thought. She tried to think of something to say to start a conversation. Should she ask him if he was the one at the little fort spying at them? Should she say something about the tree fort? No, no, instead she just asked, “So, where do you live?”

“We live past the last cabin, through the woods, and in back of the stables. It’s a two-bedroom cottage. We’ve lived there as long as I can remember. My mom runs the lodge pretty much, handles the reservations, oversees the maids, the cooks, and the waitresses and my dad takes care of the grounds and maintenance stuff. I work, too,” he said proudly, “I run the Snack Shack on the beach.”

Well, she thought, he’s not shy, stupid, or mute. He had rattled all that information off so fast that she had to think a minute before she could get her questions out. They had reached the covered porch of the lodge but he was leading her around to a side door, much smaller and less ornate than the main entrance. He turned the key in the lock and opened the door, then walked through first and flipped on the lights. They were in a small entryway. Missy closed the door and said, “Wait, wait, slow down. There are stables here? Horses?”

“Not anymore. But the stable used to have a dozen horses that the guests could rent. At least that’s what Mr. Stark told me. The stable is empty now, just some old tack and stuff in there and junk.”

“And you said there were cooks and waitresses?”

“Yeah, there’s a huge dining room for the guests to have breakfast, lunch and dinner in. Come on, I’ll show you.” He led the way down a short passageway that opened into a large restaurant style kitchen. He turned on more lights that reflected off the stainless steel of the sinks, counters, and refrigerators. They walked by several empty bins and then Kevin pushed open the double swinging doors that led to a wonderful dining room. There were four chandeliers made from deer antlers and several wall sconces but Kevin didn’t turn on any lights since there was plenty of light coming in through six large picture windows facing the lovely lake. There were eight round tables with their chairs placed upside down on top.

Missy walked over to the windows and looked out. The lake was the central focus of the view but to the left there was a swing set and slide and to the right there was a small building with a sign that said Snack Shack.

“That’s where you work?”

“Yeah,” Kevin answered. “I sell soft drinks, candy, and ice cream in the afternoons. Mr. Stark lets me keep all of the profits. You can’t tell now but all of that space there without trees is a really nice sand beach. The guests love it, and this summer we’re going to hire a lifeguard.” Missy was beginning to think that this would be a really great place to spend the summer, or at least two weeks, like her dad did.

“Come on, I’ll show you more.” Kevin gave her a little tug on the sleeve and started toward the other end of the dining room. There were two sets of French doors on either side of a two-sided stone fireplace. They went through the doors on the left and entered another room the same size as the dining room. It was a combination lobby/living room. There was a counter for customers to check in at near the front doors. There was one grouping of couches and chairs around the fireplace and another grouping around a big screen TV. A wide staircase led to a landing and turned to continue on up.

“Off that way is the owners’ apartment that Mr. Stark lives in but my mom thinks he’s going to let us live there this season. Down the other hall are the employees’ bedrooms, two to a room like a college dorm. And check this out over here.”

Kevin walked straight to the bottom of the stairs and opened a small, three-foot high door to a small space under the stairs and landing. A little light went on automatically, like opening the refrigerator, and there was a string to pull to switch on another brighter light bulb. Missy peered in. It was full of pre-school toys, a tiny table, and two little chairs.

“Cute,” she said. “It hides the rug-rats.”

“That’s not all it hides,” Kevin said with a little smirk on his face. “You want to see the guests’ rooms?”

“Sure.”

They backed out of the small space and Kevin bounded up the doublewide staircase two steps at a time. There was a large landing with a bench, a bookcase, and a brightly lit wall sconce and then the steps continued up to the second floor. It was rather dark in the hallway with all of the rooms’ doors closed. Kevin went to the first door and pushed it open. It was charming. The carpet was a forest green but there were throw rugs with bright, colorful scenes. The walls were paneled in light knotty pine. The dresser was made of pine, too, and the drawers’ handles looked like small branches. The two double beds were separated by a pine table with a deer antler lamp. There were a table and two chairs near the windows which were framed by heavy green drapes. Behind the door on the left was a bathroom. Missy walked to the window and looked out. She could see the little cabins, the lake, the Snack Shack, the stone cottage on the other side of the lake and something else off in the distance to the right.

“What’s that?” she pointed.

“Good eye,” Kevin responded, “it’s the closest thing we have to a mountain around here. We call it Mount Rocky. I’ve gone there climbing a bunch with my dad. It’s pretty cool.” Kevin looked shyly at her and said, “Maybe you could go with us when you’re here for the summer.”

Missy was confused. “I’m not going to be here for the summer. My mom works hard but I know we couldn’t afford to stay here.”

Kevin had that smirk on his face like he knew something that she didn’t know. All he said was, “We’ll see.” He turned and headed for the door saying over his shoulder, “The rest of the rooms on this floor are pretty much like this one but the third floor rooms are really nice.”

She followed him again and this time she took the stairs to the third floor two at a time, too. He didn’t open the first room they came to but instead walked to the end of the hall and opened the second to the last door. It was a two-room suite, much larger and brighter. The ceiling seemed higher, too. Again Missy went to the window and looked out. Now she could see the “mountain” better. It would be so cool to stay here and explore, she thought. Kevin was pointing to the left. “See that trail past the last cabin? That leads to the stables and where I live.”

“Oh,” she paused, “well, anything else to see here? What’s behind that last door? It didn’t seem like there’s enough room there for another suite.”

“It’s a linen room . . . and the way to the attic.”

“What’s up there?”

“Ghosts.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You afraid?”

Kevin wasn’t about to be teased by a girl. He reached for the knob but it wouldn’t turn. “It’s locked.”

“So open it, you’ve got a key.”

“This was the key to the side door, it won’t open the linen closet.” He jangled the silver key and penlight in front of her face.

“How do you know if you don’t try?” She grabbed the key from his hand and stuck it roughly in the keyhole. She wiggled it back and forth and pushed on the door. It flew open. She wasn’t about to tell him that the door was still locked, it just hadn’t been closed all the way.

There were shelves and shelves of sheets, blankets, towels, soap, and toilet paper. Looking up they could see that they would have a big problem getting into the attic. There was no cord to pull on to lower the fold-down ladder. They would need a pole with a hook on the end to catch the metal ring on the attic door.

“Darn,” Missy said, “I really would have loved to explore an old attic.”

“Well,” Kevin paused, “if you really want to get in there, there is another way. But it’s kind of scary.” He hesitated, “And I don’t know if I should show you. It’s a secret Mr. Stark showed me. My parents don’t even know.”

Now Missy really wanted to know. She said, “But I’m family. He wouldn’t mind.”

“Well . . . okay.” He laughed and challenged her to a race down the stairs. She bounded after him but it was no contest when he leaped onto the banister and slid to the first landing.

“Hey, no fair!” she hollered. She hopped onto the banister and slid, much more slowly, after him.

When they reached the lobby/living room he went back to the little room under the stairs. “In here.” He lifted a poster of Snoopy and revealed a narrow door. It was latched at the top where a toddler couldn’t reach, but Kevin easily unhooked it. “This is where the penlight comes in handy.” He switched it on and started up a steep circular metal stairway. It was like a long firehouse pole with narrow steel steps bolted to it. There was no railing and Missy went up only three steps before she started grabbing the next steps with her hands and sort of crab-crawled upwards. After a few more feet she looked up at Kevin who had stopped and was looking straight down on her between the steps. “Scary, huh?” he smirked. The light from below didn’t reach much past his head and she couldn’t see the top but there were two pinpricks of light coming through the wall about one-third and two-thirds of the way up. She wasn’t sure if she went up she would be able to get back down. She thought she would have to come back backwards on her hands and knees, as there was no way she could walk forward and twist and turn around the pole.

“Yeah, this is pretty scary,” she confessed. “I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

Kevin switched on the penlight and shined it at the wall. “See that hole? That light is coming in where the lamp on the wall is at the first landing. You can spy on people, listen to them, see what they’re reading. It’s kind of fun. Come on.”

Missy wasn’t tempted. Maybe if there had been someone to spy on she would have found the courage but she just plain felt scared. Her mother had drilled into that if she didn’t feel right about something, she shouldn’t do it. Trust yourself, her mom would say, people have instincts just like animals.

“I don’t think so,” was all that Missy said.

Luckily Kevin wasn’t the sort of kid who would bully someone and he seemed to understand her fear. “Okay, you go back and take the stairs. I’ll go up this way and open the trap door ladder from the attic.”

Missy inched her way backwards and managed to turn herself around for the last few steps. She ran up the first flight and a half and stopped at the second landing to see if she could find where the light was coming through.

“Kevin!” she yelled. “Can you hear me?” She knocked on the wall.

His muffled voice came back, “Yeah, look through the hole under the bottom screw on the light.”

She put her face up to the wall and pressed her right cheek to the metal. It was dark and she couldn’t see a thing through the wall when suddenly Kevin shined the penlight directly into her pupil. She jumped back. “Hey!” She could hear Kevin laughing on the other side.

On the third floor she went to the end of the hall where they had left the door to the linen room open. She could hear his footsteps above her and then the attic door swung open and the ladder came down. It was a lot easier to climb than the spiral stairs and she scampered up them easily.

Kevin had moved to the side and was reaching for a string that turned on a light bulb overhead. Then he walked past her to the other side and turned on another one. A small amount of light was coming in through some vents.

“This is a good time to explore,” he said, “because it’s about a hundred degrees up here in the summer.”

“Show me where you came up the hidden staircase,” Missy said.

He led her over to the front middle of the large expanse and pointed the penlight at a trap door in the floor. There was no handle, just a knothole in the wood that served as a finger hold to lift the door.

“I can see why it’s a secret,” she said. “It’s practically invisible.”

Missy turned and looked around the attic. She saw a lot of big boxes, two trunks, a crib, four mattresses, and some old furniture. Near the far wall the floor and several shelves were littered with odd-looking mechanical things, some quite large. The trunks looked the most interesting, however. One was gray with a big keyhole but it wasn’t locked. Inside she found a fur coat. Genuine muskrat, the tag said.

“This is cool,” she said. She put the coat on and knelt back down at the trunk. There was a packet of papers tied with a string, a small metal box full of medals, an old photo album and some yellowed newspapers. She thumbed through the album and put it back. One newspaper was dated thirty years ago but she didn’t check the other ones. She put everything back except the muskrat coat and turned her attention to the other trunk. Kevin had already opened it and was taking things out; a dress, two hats, some strange looking pants.

“Ooooo,” Missy said, “I know what those are. Those are old-fashioned riding pants. They’re kind of puffed out at the sides and tight below the knees.”

“Must be from when they had the stables filled with horses. They rode English style not western.”

There were more articles of clothing in the trunk and at the bottom they found nicely framed pictures of people. Some were in color but most of them were in black and white. They didn’t recognize anyone in the pictures but Missy suspected that the tall gentleman with the black beard was probably her great-grandfather, which would mean that the lady next to him was her great-grandmother. She was very pretty and mysterious looking.

They put everything back and closed the trunk’s lid. Missy was thinking that this weekend had turned out pretty fun after all. She liked Kevin and he seemed to be easy to get along with even though a few times he acted like he knew more than she did. She smiled to herself and ran her hands up and down the arms of the fur coat. It was so soft. There were big pockets on the sides and she reached her fingers into them. She could feel the silk lining in each but the left one had a small tear in the seam. She slipped her arms out of the coat and took it off. She folded it in half like it had been and put it back in the first trunk. As she patted it down to fit into the trunk she felt something hard in the hem. She pressed the object between her fingers trying to determine what it was.

“Hey, Kevin,” she called, “come here.”

Kevin got up from the floor where he was looking through a box marked comic books.

“Feel this,” Missy said and held up the bottom of the coat.

“Feels like a key.”

“I think it was in the pocket and slipped through a hole. I wonder what it opens.” She had already reached one hand into the pocket and was working the key towards it with the other hand. “There! I got it!” She pulled out a most strange looking key.

Just then they could hear that clanging sound made by the triangle on Mr. Stark’s porch.

“Oh, oh,” Kevin said, “we’d better get back.” He ran over to the lights and pulled the strings to turn them off. Missy went down the attic ladder first. When Kevin reached the bottom he gave the ladder a push and the whole thing sprang back up. It banged loudly.

“Oh, well,” Kevin said, “no big deal.”

When they got back to the cabin they were red-faced and panting. Kevin kept on trotting past the cabin and yelled, “Bye! See you this summer!”

Missy didn’t know what to say so she just waved and said, “See ya.” She still held the strange key in her hand when she entered the cabin.

“Mom, wait till you see the lodge. It is awesome.” She removed her shoes and jacket and held out her hand to reveal the odd key. “Look what we found in an old fur coat in the attic.”

Her great-grandfather grinned. “Finders keepers,” he said. “Maybe you’ll want to keep that in this treasure box. It was your father’s when he was a boy.” He was holding out a wooden puzzle box about the size of a large shoebox. Missy reached out her hands and took the box.

“May I keep it?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered. “But I’ve got to warn you, I’ve forgotten how to open it. Your dad and I made that together a long time ago. I have no idea what treasures or secrets he had in there. You have to move the pieces in just the right sequence or it won’t open. Good luck.”

Missy was intrigued. She wanted to start working on the mystery immediately but her mother was saying something about getting their bag out of the car and settling in to the second cabin. They were going to spend the night.

“Thank you so much, Great-Grandpa. And I really like your lodge. This is a cool place but don’t you get lonely in the winter?”

He chuckled. “I don’t have time. I’m always busy making something, tinkering with something, inventing something . . . making more secrets and mysteries.” He laughed again. “And I’ve really gotten attached to that computer there, too. Pretty good for an old man, huh?”

“Yeah,” Missy agreed, “I didn’t think hundred year old people used computers.”

Missy’s mother’s face looked stricken and the old man seemed not able to suck in any air. Then suddenly he laughed the most uproarious laugh of all. “Is that how old you think I am? Maybe I should shave this beard and stick it on top of my head! I’ve got more than a dozen years before I see one hundred. But that’s okay. Did Kevin tell you to say that?”

He was still laughing but Missy was embarrassed. She didn’t mean to offend him. Well, at least he didn’t seem offended but she couldn’t get an apology out of her mouth or even a word in defense of Kevin. Her mother rescued her by blaming the misunderstanding on something she had heard about how old the lodge was. She managed to turn the whole thing into a compliment about how he must have been a really smart businessman at an early age to have been able to afford to build the lodge. Actually that wasn’t so far from the truth. Apparently he had been, and maybe still was, a gifted inventor. Something he had patented as a young man was still bringing in money.

They stayed that night in the second little cabin and had a nice breakfast with Mr. Stark on Sunday morning. She didn’t see Kevin again but shyly asked her great-grandfather a few questions about him.

“Oh, I’ll just let him answer your questions when you come back in June,” he said.

Missy looked quickly at her mother who was smiling and nodding her head. “You can stay a week, two weeks, the whole summer if you want,” her mom was saying. “It’s up to you. Your great-grandfather and I discussed this yesterday. But you have to work in the kitchen some mornings and help the maids, too. What do you think? Would you like to spend the summer at Big Pine Lodge?”

Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-29 show above.)