Fool's Gold

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Authors: Eric Walters
stopping?” Red asked.
    â€œYou see that trestle up there?” Jack asked.
    Red turned around and peered through the willow branches.
    â€œWe have to wait here for a minute and make sure there isn’t a guard coming along there. That’s the very farthest corner of the camp. From that point on we’re in Camp X.”
    Both Red and Moose looked up at the trestle. I turned around so I could see back up the creek, the way we’d come. If something was following and it wanted to be close enough to keep up with us, it would have to appear pretty soon.
    â€œIf we do see a guard when we’re going under the trestle we have to pretend we’re fishing,” Jack said. “We’ll paddle. You two should get your fishing rods out and put a line in the water.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, good plan,” Red said.
    They began fiddling with the rods. Jack and I didn’t do much fishing, but it was obvious that these guys had never been fishing before. They fumbled with the reels and hardly seemed to know which end of the rod to hold.
    Red peered through the overhanging branches and up at the bridge. “I don’t see nobody.”
    â€œMe neither,” Moose said, although he wasn’t even looking in the right direction.
    â€œGood, then we’re safe to go.” Jack let loose his grip on the branches and the raft began drifting. It bumped into the shore and Jack used his paddle to push off and out. The raft started to spin sideways and I paddled frantically to correct it. It would be bad enough going over the falls as it was—I didn’t even want to think about going over backwards.
    We cleared the overhanging branches and were aimed right at the middle of the creek. That was good because, ideally, we wanted to pass through the middle span of the trestle. Jack and I paddled while Red and Moose pretended to fish. Their lines were in the water but they didn’t have bait—or even hooks, for that matter. That was probably good. I didn’t think either of them would know what to do with a live fish. Maybe Red would threaten to shoot it and Moose would eat it raw and whole!
    The side of the raft brushed against one of the cement foundations of the bridge but it slipped through. I looked up at the wooden crossbeams and then at the tracks directly above my head. I couldn’t help thinking about standing up there, earlier in the day, looking down, and then the train coming right toward me. If I had still been on that bridge it would have been all over right there. This could have ended before it had barely even started.
    I also thought about the very first time I’d ever seen the bridge. Jack and I had been drifting in our old inner tubes, cooling off, hidden beneath the branches of that willow. We’d looked up in surprise, confusion and then shock as we saw what we thought were enemy agents planting explosives, trying to blow it up. We’d later found out that the “explosives” were just lumps of clay and the “enemy agents” were guys being trained at Camp X to be spies.
    If we hadn’t seen them that day we never would have gone into the camp to investigate. And if we hadn’t done that, then everything that followed—including this—wouldn’t have happened either. Instead of being here, drifting along the river with two armed criminals trying to break into a spy camp to steal gold, we’d be sitting in school, dreaming about doing something more interesting than studying. Sometimes it’s best that you don’t get what you wish for.
    I was startled out of my thoughts when I was hit by a splattering of water. I looked up and over at Jack. He’d splashed me with his paddle, and now he was gesturing with his head for me to look back. There was a long stretch of creek but I didn’t see anything— that was what he was showing me. Sure, that had to be it. We were alone, and nobody was following us.
    â€œStay

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