The Wild Bunch Read online

  “Then a couple of rangers told us the same thing yesterday,” I added.

  Mo chuckled. “The schmucks are still saying that, huh?”

  “It’s not true?” said Jack. “No Beast?” I could hear the disappointment in his voice. Probably envisioning the millions he’d never make.

  “What do you think,” Mo Harper said, suddenly rounding on me with wild eyes. “Think I’m a ghost?”

  I jerked back, not at all sure for a moment.

  “People are such idiots,” said Mo, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They’ll believe anything you tell ’em.”

  “But what about the pictures,” said Hector, “the ones they found on your camera?”

  Mo grinned. “Those were pretty good, weren’t they?” he said. “Especially since I had to take them all on film—no digital stuff like you kids have these days.”

  I was still trying to get my head around what he was saying. It was hard to tell in the dark if he even looked like the guy in the article. That guy had short dark hair, but this weirdo had a gray mane.

  “So wait, you just made up the Beast?” Hector said.

  “Sure did,” Mo said proudly.

  “But why?” Jack asked.

  “Started off as a prank,” Mo answered. “I’d tried to get work as a photographer for years, but no one gave me a chance. So I figured I’d pay them back, make ’em look like fools. Originally I planned to come out of hiding in a month or two, reveal the hoax. But then . . . you know what? I liked it out here. By myself.” He turned and squinted at us.

  “What about your family?” I said. “And friends?”

  “The people who matter know how to reach me,” Mo answered. “And I don’t have much use for the rest of so-called polite society. Animals are better than people most of the time anyway.”

  “So what do you do out here?” Jack asked.

  “Take photographs,” Mo said. “Funny, I could never get work before the disappearance, but since then I’ve had several published in nature magazines. Built a nice little cabin in the woods I’ve got all to myself.”

  “Doesn’t it get cold here in the winter?” I said.

  Mo shrugged his broad shoulders. “Suppose it does,” he said. “I wouldn’t know. Spend my winters on a houseboat in the Florida Keys. I’ve won runner-up in the Hemingway look-alike contest three years in a row now!” He stroked his beard proudly. “Now that’s enough questions! You boys are wearing me out!”

  We continued walking, until I heard the sound of rushing water echoing off the cave walls, growing louder with every step. Soon the cave began to widen and rays of sunlight filtered through an opening up ahead. The water became a roar, and Hector shouted something, but I couldn’t hear what he said. It sounded like we were walking straight into a tsunami. Mo turned around and waved us forward with a gap-toothed grin.

  Hector, Jack, and I stepped outside, and my jaw dropped.

  A huge sheet of water thundered down right in front of us, crashing somewhere far below and sending up a fine mist that dampened my cheeks and clung to my eyelashes. Hector pulled off his glasses and wiped the lenses.

  “Welcome to Bear Falls!” said Mo. “Even after all these years, it still gets me every time.”

  Jack, Hector, and I grinned wildly at one another.

  “We made it!” I said.

  “Now, step carefully,” said Mo. He led us down a narrow trail, around the side of the falls, and onto a small ledge. The rain was still falling, but not as hard, and there were patches of blue sky peeping through above. We were standing about halfway down a sixty-foot waterfall. From here, I had a perfect view of the water as it flowed down the mountainside and barreled over the edge and into a clear blue pool below.

  “This is amazing!” I shouted. “Seriously amazing!”

  Jack, Hector, and I high-fived. Mo nodded.

  “Well,” he said in his gruff voice, “you boys made it . . . might as well enjoy it.” He pointed at the pool.

  I looked around but couldn’t see a path to the bottom. “How do we get down there?”

  Mo raised his bushy eyebrows. “How d’you think?”

  He lifted his arms in the air and threw himself off the ledge. A second later he hit the water with a huge splash, disappearing under the surface.

  “Whoa!” said Jack.

  We waited for Mo to surface. And waited.

  “You think he’s okay?” I asked.

  Then Mo Harper broke the surface right at the edge of the pool. “It’s more than twenty feet deep,” he called up. “I’ve made the dive more times than I can remember. Nothing like it!”

  Jack shrugged off his backpack and nodded. “Now you’re talking!” he said.

  Hector and I shared a glance, grinned, then did the same.

  “Wait!” I said. “We’ve gotta get a picture of him. No one’s going to believe this really happened.”

  Hector scrabbled in his backpack as Mo pulled himself out onto the bank. With his hair soaking and clinging to his head, he looked half-normal again.

  He raised a hand, waving to us, and without another word set off toward the bushes.

  “Hey! Wait!” I yelled.

  Hector was still fumbling with his phone. He brought it up and snapped just as Mo disappeared.

  “Tell me you got him!” said Jack.

  Hector squinted at the screen.

  “Sort of,” he said. He twirled the phone around so Jack and I could see the dark, blurry image of a figure walking into the trees. To be honest, it could have been anything.

  “Great!” said Jack. “The National Enquirer will pay millions for that. Not.”

  “You captured . . . the Beast!” I said.

  “Yeah, too bad no one would ever believe it,” Hector said with a shrug as he dropped the phone back in his bag. I peered over the ledge as the sun touched the top of the trees beyond.

  “Well, guys, it’s now or never,” I said.

  “Who’s going first?” Jack said.

  “Rock, paper, scissors?” Hector said.

  I shook my head and grabbed each of them by the hand. “Nope,” I said. “We go together. All for one and one for all! Three . . . two . . . one . . . ,” I counted.

  “Cowabunga!” Jack yelled—and we leapt from the side, plummeting into the pool below with a fantastic splash.

  WILDERNESS SURVIVAL TIP #21

  THE PATH BACK HOME IS NOT ALWAYS THE WAY YOU CAME.

  THE WATER WAS COOL AND clear and smelled like early summer rain. Jack swam in circles, pretending to be a shark. Hector did some sort of modified doggy paddle back and forth across the pool. I floated on my back, staring up at the sky and listening to the rhythmic pound of water rushing over the falls. This trip hadn’t turned out to be a disaster after all.

  In fact, it was shaping up to be pretty awesome.

  Jack circled underwater, hand above the surface like a dorsal fin, and yanked my foot. I splashed him when he popped up for air. Hector snorted out a laugh and sneezed. We horsed around like that for a good half hour. Finally, I swam to the edge and pulled myself up on the rocks. The sun was setting, casting orange and purple streaks across the sky.

  “Guys,” I said, “it’s gonna be dark soon. We’d better get back to camp.”

  We climbed up to the ledge and grabbed our backpacks, then followed the path back to the main road. We were all dripping wet, but it was better than being caked in mud. A sign pointed away from the falls:

  LAKE CAMPSITE 10 MILES

  “Ten miles?” Jack said. “I don’t think I can walk another ten feet!”

  “There’s no way we can make it that distance before it gets dark,” I said. Despite all the fun we’d had, I felt pretty guilty. We’d promised we’d get back by nightfall. Dad would be really worried.

  “Hey!” said Hector, holding up his phone. “I’ve got a signal!”

  “What are you going to say?” Jack asked.

  “I dunno,” Hector said with a shrug. “The truth?”


  I thought about it. The thieving raccoon, the snakebite, the encounter with the bear, the ravine escape, the mudslide, and meeting a man who disappeared three decades ago. It would sound 100 percent crazy.

  “Maybe just say we got lost?” I said.

  But before Hector could hit call, a green Jeep with an open top rumbled around the corner and stopped right before us, spitting up pebbles. I dunno, but after being out in the wilderness so long, the sight of something so artificial was as strange as if an alien had just landed in front of us. Hector dropped the phone in his pocket. I waved when I recognized the old guy climbing out of the front seat.

  The ranger’s face was stern. “How the heck did you guys get up here?” he said. “Thought I told you it wasn’t safe.”

  “Uh-huh,” I stammered, shoving my hands in my pocket. “We just walked the road, like you said.”

  The ranger looked hard at me. “Is that right? ’Cause a little bird told me you came through the caves.”

  “Wait! You know Mo Harper?”

  “Sure I do,” said the ranger. “I’ve worked here going on forty years. Now, you boys need a lift back to camp or what?”

  “Yes, please!” said Jack.

  We grabbed the roll bar and hopped inside. There was a bunch of radio equipment on the front seat, so I found myself wedged in the back between Jack and Hector. As usual. Ranger Thomas turned the Jeep around and we rumbled down the road.

  “Hey,” I said as he drove. “What about the Beast? If you know Mo, you know that story is nonsense.”

  The ranger’s eyes glanced in the rearview mirror. He grinned. “Mo and I play cards sometimes. He values his privacy. Doesn’t do me any harm to keep his secret.”

  He sped up, rumbling the Jeep downhill and around sharp bends. The warm evening wind whipped against our faces. It smelled like damp grass and smoky campfires. I sucked in a deep breath. Yeah, this place really wasn’t half bad.

  Ranger Thomas came to a sudden stop at the side of the road. Hector, Jack, and I grabbed the roll bar to keep from lurching forward. The ranger threw the Jeep into park and turned around.

  “Here you go, boys. Your campsite is a half mile straight down that path,” he said, pointing. “I trust you can find your way.”

  “Thank you for the ride,” I said as we climbed from the car. I was stiff all over and covered in bruises, but other than that, I felt pretty good.

  “You’re welcome,” he answered. “Now before you go, I need you to make me a promise not to tell anyone what you saw up there.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Jack. “We just solved the mystery of Bear Falls!”

  The ranger looked at him sternly. “I need you to promise.”

  Jack looked like he was about to complain again, but then stopped. He shot a glance at Hector and me. I shrugged. “What good will it do anyone?” I said. “All we’ve got is Hector’s picture anyway. No one will believe it.”

  Jack sighed. “All right, then.”

  “We promise,” said Hector.

  The ranger smiled. “You’re good kids. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. And please, stay on the marked paths from now on!”

  With that, he threw the Jeep into drive and peeled away.

  Hector, Jack, and I began the short walk back toward camp.

  “So are we going to tell the grown-ups we even went to the falls?” Hector asked, bony shoulders slumping. “My parents will be angry.”

  “It’s so annoying, but I don’t think we should say anything,” I said.

  “Mine wouldn’t care one way or the other,” muttered Jack.

  I looked at him. He seemed kind of sad, but I didn’t know what to say.

  “So it’s our secret,” I said. “Let’s shake on it.” I spat in my palm and held out my hand. Hector wrinkled his nose and spat in his. Jack did the same.

  “All for one and one for all,” I said as we shook. Jack pulled his hand away, and with a smirk, wiped it on Hector’s back.

  “Eww!” Hector said with a shudder.

  “You’re welcome,” Jack answered. “That’s for the car fart!”

  “How many times do I have to tell . . . ,” Hector started, then huffed out a sigh. “Oh, okay. It was me. And it was a pretty good one, wasn’t it?”

  We cracked up, and kept walking until we reached a small clearing. I could see the points of our tents and could hear the crackle of the campfire. The smell of roasting fish filled the air. My mouth began to water; I was officially starving.

  “Hey, Dad!” I said with a wave as we rounded the corner. He was sitting on a log opposite Mr. Lopez. There were two cars parked nearby—one a new 4x4 with the same rental company logo, and the other a flashy sports car. A guy wearing a suit was standing to one side, typing something on his phone. I didn’t need to be introduced to know it was Jack Senior. Father and son carried themselves exactly the same way.

  “There you are,” Mr. Lopez said, standing up quickly. “I was just starting to get worried you’d been eaten by wolves, but Paul’s dad said you’d be back on time.”

  I glanced at my friends and grinned. Wolves were about the only creatures we hadn’t met.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I said. “Just having a good time exploring.”

  Mr. Gracie glanced up from his phone and inspected his son with a scowl. “You’re all wet and muddy, Jack,” he said. “And you’ve ruined another pair of jeans? That’s the second pair this month!”

  “Just got caught in the rain, sir,” Jack said, face red and shoulders slumping. Suddenly he looked two years younger. “Sorry.”

  Mr. Gracie grumbled something under his breath and went back to typing. Jack, Hector, and I grabbed spots side by side on a log and warmed our hands in front of the fire. A huge salmon sizzled in the skillet above it. Mr. Lopez waggled his eyebrows and pointed.

  “So, while you boys were out discovering nature, we caught ourselves the real Beast of Bear Falls,” he said.

  I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. They had no idea. . . .

  “Yep,” Dad chimed in. “Took us all afternoon to land that bad boy. He wasn’t going down without a fight, that’s for sure!”

  Mr. Lopez laid the skillet on a rock and divided up the salmon onto our plates, telling us that the rental place had come by with a new vehicle just after we left. I took a bite and exhaled happily, eyes closed. No question; it was possibly the best fish I’d ever tasted.

  “So,” Dad said. “Tell us about your exploring, boys. See anything interesting?”

  “A little of this and a little of that,” I said. “You know, just checking out the woods.”

  “Yeah, we saw this crazy raccoon . . . ,” Jack said.

  His father glanced at him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he scolded. “It’s rude.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack sank back.

  I scraped the last few morsels of salmon from my plate, then got up to throw the bones in the trash. As I stuffed them in the bag, I noticed a very suspicious-looking white paper wrapper hiding beneath some empty Spam cans. I turned my head sideways and read the label:

  Fresh salmon, $12/pound

  It looked like Hector, Jack, and I weren’t the only ones who might have been fudging the truth today. . . .

  FINAL WILDERNESS SURVIVAL TIP

  FOR THE THIRD AND FINAL TIME, SEE TIP #3: NEVER, EVER PUT ANYTHING IN YOUR MOUTH UNLESS YOU KNOW . . . OH, COME ON, DO WE REALLY HAVE TO TELL YOU?

  I CRAWLED INTO MY SLEEPING bag that night to the chirp of insects and the rustling of leaves—my muscles tired, eyes heavy, and stomach full. Jack’s dad had bought a brand-new replacement tent on the way up, but Jack chose to crash with us instead. Even with both of them beside me, it was the best sleep of my life.

  The next morning, as we loaded up, Ranger Thomas came to see us off. He touched the side of his nose and pointed to me, Jack, and Hector. I looked back at the mountain in the distance, shrouded in mist, and wondered if Mo Harper would ever reveal his secret. But then I decided it didn
’t really matter. He was happy, he wasn’t harming anyone, and that was all that counted.

  Not to mention, he pretty much had the coolest bathtub and shower in the entire world. Even if he didn’t use it often enough.

  Jack stuffed his bag into Mr. Gracie’s car. When we were done loading the car, Dad leaned on the open passenger side door of the rental and smiled wide.

  “So, what did you think, boys?” he said. “Have fun?”

  We shrugged and looked at one another. “It wasn’t bad,” I said with a smirk. “Saw a few interesting things.”

  “Yeah.” Dad leaned in conspiratorially. “About that . . . you know, the little accident with the fire, and the, ahem, deer, and all that . . . we should probably keep that stuff to ourselves. If we want Mom to let us go anywhere again, that is.” He stood up straight, voice booming. “And you boys want to go on another trip, right?”

  Hector, Jack, and I looked at each other.

  “Sure,” Hector said. “As long as I don’t have to listen to Jack talk in his sleep again.”

  “And I’m not going anywhere that he can scoop up poop.” Jack waggled a finger at Hector.

  “I’ll go anywhere I don’t have to listen to these two argue,” I said. “Maybe a very loud concert.”

  “I’d much rather go to a nice quiet museum,” Hector said.

  “What?” Jack said. “Hunting. I vote for big game hunting!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Dad said. He stretched out his hand. “To the Wild Bunch, right?”

  At the beginning of the weekend I would have cringed, but after a pause, I placed my hand on top of Dad’s. Hector and Jack laid theirs on too.

  “To the Wild Bunch!” we said together.

  Mr. Gracie peered into Mr. Lopez’s trunk, saw us, and screwed up his face. “Mind if I grab a water before we ship out?” he said.

  “No problem, Jack,” Mr. Lopez said. “Help yourself.”

  Mr. Gracie flipped open the blue cooler. “Oh, hey!” he said. “M&Ms. My favorite. Don’t mind if I do!”

  We watched him tip the packet straight into his mouth. I guess we could have stopped him, technically. But Jack, his own son, said nothing. And even Hector, who was losing his hard-won poop collection, didn’t speak up.