Free Behind Mt. Baldy by Christopher Cummings

of his shirt pocket he dropped something. I
want to see what it is,” Roger replied.
    He went to pass them to get back
out on the road.
    “Hang on Roger. We’ll come too,”
Graham said, unclipping his pack. Peter and Stephen did likewise.
    “What if they come back?” asked
Stephen, voicing the fear in Roger’s mind.
    “So what? We have every right to be here.
They won’t bother four of us without a good reason,” Roger said.
    “I agree,” Peter added. “They
won’t know if we are alone or not. Soldiers go around in armies don’t they?”
    Roger led the way back out onto
the road. As he did he was amazed how fast his heart was beating and how dry
his mouth felt. On reaching the road he cast a look in the direction the car
had gone. Then he headed back the way they had come as fast as he could walk.
The others followed, also casting nervous glances behind them.
    Even before he reached the place
Roger could see the object. He went straight to it and picked it up. He held it
in the palm of his hand as the others crowded round.
    It was a metal badge, shaped like
a shield. The base colour of most of it was shiny black but it had a raised silver
rim. On the face of the shield were the letters KSS in silver. The bottom
portion of the shield was red. The whole thing was only about 5cm high and 3 or
4 wide.
    Roger turned it over. There was a
pin fastener on the back.
    “A badge,” Stephen said quite
unnecessarily.
    “What’s it made of? Aluminium?” Peter asked.
    Roger weighed it in his hand, then shook his head. “No, heavier. Might even be silver.”
    “Any writing on
it?” Graham
asked.
    The badge was passed around and
carefully examined.
    “Here’s a number on the back,”
Peter noted. He read it out. “One, three, two, zero, zero.”
    Graham took the badge and also
weighed it in his hand. As he did his usually cheerful face clouded with
concentration. “These letters. Very
Germanic. See the shape of the two ‘S’s’? Straight
lines, not curves.   Like the Nazi SS used.”
    “But you said they didn’t speak
German,” Peter reminded him.
    “No. It’s odd. It’s not just a
souvenir or something. Why would the man be carrying it?” Graham asked.
    “Identification?” Peter suggested.
    “They were both dressed in
black,” Roger reminded. “Maybe it’s a uniform?”
    “What, Nazis
here at Tinaroo Dam? More than sixty years after World War Two!  Get real Roger,” Stephen
snorted.
    Roger shrugged. “I wonder what
they were looking for? ” He walked to the edge of the
jungle where the two men had emerged. There was no sign of any track but the
jungle wasn’t too thick.
    Graham joined him. “Here, have
your badge. That first bloke was walking on a compass bearing.”
    “Where would they have been?”
Peter asked. He pulled out his map and they all looked at it. Robsons Creek was
only a couple of hundred metres away and the lake about a kilometre.
    “From the
lake?” Stephen suggested.
    Graham shook his head. “Nah! Why bash through the bloody jungle when there are roads
going right to the water, like the one where we dumped our packs,” he said.
    “I’ll bet they were hiding
something,” Roger said.
    “Like what?” Peter asked.
    “Murder weapon? Bloodstained
clothes maybe,” Roger replied.
    “Oh Roger! Stop talking about murder,”
Stephen said. Then he paused, mouth open, before adding, “or ... or another
body?”
    The boys turned as one to look
into the shadow of the rain forest. The place suddenly took on a very sinister
aspect.
    “I wish you hadn’t said that
Stephen,” Peter said quietly.
    There was silence for nearly half
a minute.
    “We have to look,” Roger said.
    “But where?” Peter asked.
    “I don’t know! In there,” Roger
pointed.
    Graham pulled out his compass.
“We can’t just walk away from this. We’ll have a quick look, but only for ten
minutes. We are losing time again. Form an extended line ten paces apart. We
will go in on due West . If you get