Hunter Moran Digs Deep Read Online Free PDF Page B

into our room with all his junk. It’s bigger than his, after all. He’ll be painting most of the night, probably more of those green lumps.
    And by tomorrow, Pop will realize that we haven’t picked up one leaf. He’ll be furious. And wait until he goes down to his man cave and spots his birdhouse in a million pieces. I can see him holding his head, whispering, “There goes Here’s to Wildlife.”
    Maybe he won’t even come to our funeral.
    But poor Mom. She’ll feel terrible.
    If I ever get out of here, I’m going to do something really great for her. As soon as I get the big bucks, of course.
    But what about the dog? I try for a whistle, but my mouth is dry.
    â€œHey, Fred.” I hear the irritation in my voice. It’s all his fault.
    Fred doesn’t call back.
    Is he still alive? If not, Steadman will never forgive us.
    â€œFred!” I yell again. “Get over here!”
    From under my feet there’s a growl, and then a sharp bite to my ankle. Fred. Please let it be Fred who’s doing the biting and not a rattler.
    â€œIt’s Fred,” Zack says, reading my mind. “Acting like a killer.”
    My voice is suddenly muffled. Something is covering my mouth.
    Zack’s filthy hand.
    I can hardly breathe.
    Then I hear a voice I recognize. It’s Sister Ramona, the first-grade teacher. She’s older than Sister Appolonia by about fifty years, and a nervous wreck.
    No wonder. She gives drum lessons after school every afternoon. The sound probably drives her crazy.
Bang, bang, boom!
    â€œWho’s there?” she quavers.
    Where is she?
    Now I see a rim of light. Is it coming from underneath a door?
    Whew! We’re not trapped in here forever.
    Sister Ramona is talking to someone. “Thieves, robbers,” she says, her voice rising. “Killers. They’ve said so themselves. One of them is named Fred.”
    Sister may be almost as old as Lester Tinwitty, but there’s nothing wrong with her ears.
    Someone answers her. Zack presses his hand harder on my mouth.
    I recognize that voice, too.
    â€œIt’s your imagination,” says Sister Appolonia. “Just lock the door anyway. If robbers are in there, they’ll run out of air in no time. They’ll be buried for the next millennium, maybe two.”
    Sister Appolonia doesn’t have an ounce of pity.
    â€œGood idea, Apple,” Sister Ramona says.
    Apple?
    Zack begins to laugh.
    Hysterical, but we’re going to strangle ourselves to death any minute. I take tiny breaths, saving myself for another minute or two.
    But maybe we’re buried here for the next millennium . . .
    Maybe two.
    And Lester Tinwitty’s treasure may be right here with us.

Chapter 9
    The rim of light disappears. The footsteps fade away into the distance.
    â€œWhen we’re rich,” Zack says, “I’m never going to get myself into a mess like this again.”
    â€œMe, neither.”
    We don’t mention that this may be our tomb, that we’ll never get out.
    Fred is digging into my other ankle now. It’s definitely Fred. I recognize the growl that goes with every bite.
    How late is it, anyway? The party must be long over.
    Dinner, too.
    It’s probably the middle of the night. Mom will be coming to look for us, stumbling along in the dark, with a flashlight and no battery.
    Next to me, Zack scootches around, moving an inch at a time, his elbow in my neck.
    â€œWhat?” I say.
    â€œI’m looking for the door.”
    You can’t beat Zack for brains, but I don’t want to remind him that the door is locked.
    â€œBefore we run out of oxygen,” he manages.
    Beneath me, Fred sounds as if he’s frothing at the mouth. He does that when he’s annoyed. He wants to get out of here as much as we do.
    â€œToo bad, Fred,” I say. “Your miserable life is coming to an end.”
Desperadoes On the Loose
, Monday,