Undercurrent by [email protected]

Author:[email protected]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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CHAPTER 12

I make it back to school about a half hour later. I’m soaking wet, and my teeth are chattering. I really hope I didn’t give myself hypothermia again, but I’m not feeling sleepy or weak or anything. And I’m not burning up and wanting to take off my clothes, which I heard is what happens just before you die.

I am feeling totally confused, though, by what I just saw: my old biology teacher dropping some weird device into the falls. And the whole thing about it being a message—if so, who was the message meant for?

I asked that very question at the time but never got an answer. Mr. Schroeder blew me off and headed down the trail.

I stood there for a few minutes, puzzling over what just happened. Mr. Schroeder remembered my name, at least, but he seemed to have me mixed up with some student who acted up in class. To be honest, I can’t remember anyone behaving like that; he was a great teacher, and everyone pretty much hung on every word he said. Which, for Crystal Falls High, is amazing.

I also found it strange that he didn’t even mention my accident, especially with us standing right there at the scene. Surely everyone in town had heard about my going over the falls.

Once Mr. Schroeder was gone, I remembered the hooded guy. But there was no way I could catch up to him now. I couldn’t go out on the bridge, not even crawling on all fours. It was too intense.

So I headed back, this time along the marked trail, which came out on a road that eventually leads to the school. By then Mr. Schroeder was nowhere in sight.

Classes are still in session when I get back. Retrieving my dripping gym bag from behind the school, I hear the bell ring for lunch. This is perfect timing, because it means the front doors will be unlocked in a minute. Which is great, because I wasn’t looking forward to having to use the intercom, which would have meant reporting to the office.

Making my way around the building, I look back at the field and the site of the now-vanished library. Once again I get the same awful feeling in the pit of my stomach as a memory returns to me.

It happened a couple of weeks ago. I had gone to the library annex after school, hoping to pick up a few books that I needed to complete a project on a mythological creature of my choice. I’d decided to go with Bigfoot, the reclusive monster Cole and I had spent hours hunting down in the woods near our old house. Assuming he lived off chips and chocolate bars, the litter we’d found suggested we were hot on his trail a number of times.

Of course, the assignment was due the next day, and as usual I had put off the research until the last possible moment. But within minutes I had my hands

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