cops and tell them about Mr. Rose.
Before Bill can do any of that stuff, he and Jason have to get their shoes. They follow the trail back to the spot where they set up camp. That takes a while. Jason’s hobbling pretty bad. He practically has to hop down the trail. But Jason doesn’t complain, and he seems a little better once he gets his shoes and socks on. They’re PF Flyers. They’re almost new, and they’re white, but Bill knows they won’t be white for long. At least not the right shoe, because it’s Jason’s right foot that’s bleeding, and they’ve got a good walk ahead of them.
There’s a trail that cuts over the hills behind the lake and connects to the country road that leads back to town. It’s a little longer than the trail that runs along the shore, but neither boy wants to take that one. It would mean passing Mr. Rose, and they don’t want to take that chance.
The boys leave their camping stuff behind. They’re just about at the trailhead when they remember the dog. They haven’t seen Red Rover since Mr. Rose jumped Jason.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Bill says. “What if Mr. Rose gets hold of Red Rover before we can call the cops?”
“I don’t think the dog would go near that nut,” Jason says. “Besides, it’s getting dark. I don’t want to be around here at night.”
“What’s the matter?” Bill says. “Are you scared you’ll see Cheryl Ann’s ghost ?”
Jason stops dead in his tracks. After everything that’s happened, he’s completely forgotten about the little girl’s ghost. He looks at his friend. All of a sudden Bill’s got a goofy grin on his face, like he finally figured out the biggest joke of all. Bill starts laughing, and so does Jason. The whole thing does seem pretty funny. After all, they came out here to see if they could spot a ghost, an ectoplasmic will o’ the wisp, a good old-fashioned spook. They sure didn’t see anything like that.
“I don’t even believe in ghosts anymore,” Jason says. “But I do believe in Mr. Rose.”
“Yeah,” Bill says. “I guess I believe in him, too.”
“Besides, I figure Red Rover can take care of himself. He’s probably long gone, anyhow. Let’s you and me get out of here.”
They start walking. Jason has a tough time of it. He can’t move very fast, even when he leans on Bill’s shoulder, but he doesn’t give up. He won’t cry uncle , no matter what.
A grove of eucalyptus trees separates the lake from the hill. Powdery gravel crunches under the boys’ feet as they follow an inclined path into shadows that smell clean and crisp.
At the edge of the trees, Jason stops for a break. Already, his right PF Flyer is getting red on one side, but that isn’t what’s bothering him. “Maybe we should at least try to call the little mutt,” he says. “That wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
“No,” Bill says. “That wouldn’t hurt at all.”
Both boys turn toward the lake. The sun’s gone now. The evening sky is streaked with royal purple and dark valentine red.
It’s twilight.
Bill opens his mouth to call the dog. He doesn’t even get a word out before he spots Red Rover running down the path, coming toward them like a bullet.
Below, Mr. Rose’s voice cuts through the cattails like a scythe.
“Red Rover... Red Rover... won’t you come over?”
* * *
“He’s close,” Jason says.
“Yeah,” Bill says, staring through the eucalyptus grove at the trail that leads to the hill. “Think you can run?”
Jason glances down at his bloodstained tennis shoe. He shakes his head. Then he looks toward the lake trail, watching for Mr. Rose.
“If we can’t outrun him, then we’ll have to hide,” Bill says. “Maybe we can find a good spot in the woods—“
“Maybe we don’t have to,” Jason says. Because he’s seen something that Bill missed. There’s a blackberry thicket at the juncture of the lake and hill trails. A deer run cuts into the blackberries. Both Bill and Jason have
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley