After what seemed like an interminable time, there was the sound of a truck motor starting, revving up and pulling away. Mister Semen turned his head toward the newly cleared driveway and then turned his body and began walking down to the gate.
Silent shadows flicked from tree to tree ... three shadows ... as the teens cut through the forest on a soft carpet of dead, moist leaves. One of them stepped on a branch that cracked like a gunshot to their ears and the other two shot dark looks, raising fingers to their lips. They crept on, arriving just in time to see mister Semen leaned against the one open half of the gate, pushing with all his strength to close it.
"Gonna have to get some oil on these hinges," he muttered.
He moved inside and pulled, getting the two halves closed as much as he could. Then, digging into another pocket of that strange greatcoat, he pulled a shiny new lock from it. Bending he gathered up the old chain and draped it through the iron bars of the gate, pulling on the loose ends until the gate closed even more. He fumbled with the ends and then stood back. The new lock was securely fastened. He nodded, turned on his heel, and began trudging back up the drive toward the manor.
The three kids looked at each other, staring open mouthed.
They were locked in.
Mike started to say something, but Robby shushed him quietly. He held up a hand, standing still, his head swiveling, watching the stranger until the number of trees between watcher and watched got so numerous that they could only catch glimpses of movement. Robby waited longer and then finally dropped his hand. He turned to his sister and friend and beckoned them toward him.
"What are we gonna do?" whispered Mike anxiously. He looked up at the sharp spikes that topped each upright iron bar in the fence that, as far as he knew, completely surrounded the property. The bars were only six inches apart. There was no way to go through, or over the fence.
"We know a way out," whispered Robby. Debbie shot him a look but he shook his head. "We used to play in the woods. Follow me."
He took them along the fence, back toward the corner they'd run around ... not right by the fence, but ten or fifteen yards inside the undergrowth, as if he were afraid someone outside the fence might see them. To his credit he made it look as if he were searching for something, though he knew exactly where the wide spot in the bars was. It took them fifteen minutes to circle the mansion. When they got there it was obvious that there was a trail leading from the fence toward the house.
"Look!" said Mike. "Somebody's been using this!"
"Game trail," said Robby confidently. "You know, rabbits ... deer ... that kind of thing."
There were deer in these parts, though none of the teens had ever seen one that hadn't been shot by a hunter and hung up to butcher. Mike nodded. His primary concern was getting out. There was no way he wanted to go knock on the door and face mister Semen to get that gate unlocked. He saw the gap in the fence. Someone had gone to great lengths with some kind of heavy force to bend the bars apart. What none of them knew was that this was the entrance point that kidnappers had used decades before to gain entry onto the property.
That wouldn't have mattered anyway. Now all three youths squeezed between the bars. As soon as they were out all three ran like the wind toward Debbie and Robby's house.
They were out of breath when they arrived, pounding through the door and into the kitchen where they stood, poised for further flight for some reason. Debbie had a wild look in her eyes. Her hair, which had been in a pony tail, had come partly undone, perhaps from brushing a tree branch, and her hair flew off in several directions. Her heaving chest caught Mike's attention. He could see the dents in her shirt that he knew were made by nipples.
"What was that all about?" he asked, breathlessly.
"I don't know," said Robby, sitting down. Then he stood up again and went to the fridge, pulling out bottles of Royal Crown Cola for them all. He couldn't find an opener, digging through the junk drawer under the counter. Debbie took hers and dug the edge of the serrated cap into the aluminum strip that went along the edge of the counter. She raised it fractionally and then jerked downward. The cap sailed and she tipped the bottle up, drinking thirstily.
"You know mom doesn't like that," chided Robby. "It marks up the aluminum."
Debbie let the bottle fall back, half empty. She let out a long burp and wiped her mouth with her forearm. "That's not important right now," she said edgily. "We have to stop that man."
"Why?" asked Mike, trying to do the same thing he'd seen Debbie do, but unable to make it work. "Maybe he bought the place."
Debbie jerked the bottle from his hands and opened it for him expertly on the edge of the counter, like she had her own. She handed it back to him.
"He can't buy the manor." She unconsciously slipped into her common name for the Naughty Mansion.
Mike took a gulp of pop and tried to burp. It was a short one and he looked disgusted. "Why not? If he's crazy enough and has the money he can do what he wants."
Debbie was about to hotly exclaim that he couldn't buy the place because it was hers!, but Robby shot her a look that made her mouth snap shut.
"He doesn't look like he has that kind of money," said Robby hurriedly.
"He sure pulled a bundle out of that coat," insisted Mike. "And he paid that guy on that bulldozer. Maybe he's some rich crazy guy or something. He'd have to be crazy to buy that place. That's for sure." He went back to trying to work up a respectable belch.
"We have to tell Mom!" said Debbie urgently. "She'll know what to do."
"Why do you have to do anything?" insisted Mike. "Who cares?" He took another swig of RC Cola. "I can't wait to tell my parents," he said, exhibiting just who he thought would care.
"Yeah" said Robby. "Go home and tell your parents. I need to ... ah, mow the lawn anyway."
Debbie could tell that her brother was trying to get rid of his friend, which was fine with her, because this was an emergency and they needed to do something. Mike, not having any of the urgency that was seething beneath the surface of both twins, kept trying to work up a burp. His eyes fell to Debbie's chest again.
"Hey, I just remembered something," he said.
The other two looked at him anxiously.
"When we were out there, watching them, and you tried to go do something ..." he addressed Debbie, "and Rob stopped you? Remember?"
She nodded, wishing he'd just leave so she and her brother could discuss what to do.
"Rob touched your titties," announced Mike.
"No he didn't," she said hotly.
"Yes he did! He had his hands all over your titties," insisted Mike.
"What's your point Mike?" demanded Debbie.
"Well I was wondering if maybe you'd let me touch them too." Mike had known the twins for as long as he could remember, and he'd spent hours playing baseball with them, or riding bikes or playing Monopoly. He'd always accepted Debbie as just another friend ... not a girl. It was only recently that he'd noticed her as a member of the fairer sex.
"What kind of pervert are you?" Debbie leaned in close to him.
"I'm not a pervert!" yelped Mike. "He did it! So why can't I?"
"Mike, buddy, I didn't grab her boobs on purpose, you idiot," said Robby. "I was just trying to keep her from running in front of that bulldozer. It was an accident."
"Oh," said Mike with obvious disappointment, looking down. He then looked back up, hope back in his eyes. "What did it feel like? Were they soft?"
"You really are a pervert!" squealed Debbie.
"No I'm not!" defended Mike. "Guys do that all the time. If you like a girl you're supposed to touch her titties."
"So you like me?" asked Debbie, not at all sure how she felt about that possibility. She had too many things on her mind right now to think about that.
"No!" blurted Mike. "I mean you know ... not like that. I think you're cool and everything. I just never got to touch a girls titties before."
Debbie folded her arms under the titties being discussed, framing them nicely, though that wasn't her intent.
"Well you're not going to be feeling mine any time soon. I can't believe you Mike Sumner! I should tell your mother what you just asked."
Mike reacted just like her brother would have, groveling and begging and promising anything if she'd refrain from getting him in trouble. It was a lesson Debbie would remember. Up to that point the only male she had any real sway over was her brother, at least in terms of using extortion and blackmail to control a boy. But she took it easy on him. All she really wanted right then was for him to go home so she could talk to Robby about the manor. So she told him to go home and think about what he'd done, about how he'd hurt her feelings. She even worked up a tear and managed to look sad and confused about how a friend could sink so low.
Mike escaped while the escaping was good.
Once he was gone Debbie's demeanor changed instantly from a weepy teenage girl to a young woman deadly serious about attacking a real problem.
"What are we gonna do Robby?" she asked him worriedly.
"I don't know," he said, just as worriedly.
"We could call the police," she suggested.
"If he hired somebody to take a big machine like that in there he's not trying to hide anything," reasoned Robby. "I mean he's not trespassing or anything."
"What's he doing there?!" cried Debbie. "That's our place Robby! He can't just take it away from us! That's not fair!"
"What about our stuff?" asked Robby.
Over the years they'd taken small personal items to the house. The nest that had been in the root cellar had been moved to one of the bedrooms that they adopted as their own. There wasn't a lot other than a few smuggled pillows and one blanket.
What Robby was talking about, however, was their treasure trove. An old hand-made wooden jewelry box had been found and, while it contained nothing of real value that they could see, they had made it into the place they put all the treasures they did find in their explorations. The two coins were there, along with a heavy salt shaker that they thought was made of silver. There was a polished comb of bone, intricately carved, that Debbie used to pin up her hair when they played dress-up in the past. And, their prize possession, a gold pocket watch they'd found stuffed into a hole in the mattress of what appeared to have been a woman's bedroom. The watch still worked and it was beautiful.
"We have to go get it!" whispered Debbie, even though they were the only two people in the house.
"We can't do that. He'll catch us," whispered back Robby.