Charley broke the silence with a soft whimper.
“Wh-what happened?” Clark stammered.
“Flat tire.” Dad sighed. “I hope the spare is okay. There’s no way we’re going to get help at night in the middle of a swamp.”
I leaned out the window to check out the tire. Dad was right. It was totally flat.
Boy, were we lucky, I thought. Lucky this was a low bridge. Otherwise …
“Okay, everybody out of the car,” Mom interrupted my thoughts. “So Dad can change the tire.”
Clark took a long look out the car window before he opened the door. I could tell he was afraid.
“Better be careful, Clark,” I said as he swung his short, stubby legs out the door. “The swamp monster likes low targets.”
“That’s funny, Gretchen. Really funny. Remind me to laugh.”
Dad headed for the trunk to find the jack. Mom followed. Clark and I stepped into the swamp.
“Oh, gross!” My brand-new white high-tops sank into the thick black mud.
I let out a long sigh.
How could anyone live in a swamp? I wanted to know. It was so gross out here.
The air felt thick and soupy. So hot, it was hard to breathe.
As I pulled my hair back into a scrunchie, I glanced around.
I couldn’t see much. The sky had darkened to black.
Clark and I drifted away from the car. “Let’s explore while Dad fixes the tire,” I suggested.
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Clark murmured.
“Sure it is,” I urged. “There’s nothing else to do. And it’s better than standing around here, waiting. Isn’t it?”
“I—I guess,” Clark stammered.
We took a few steps into the swamp. My face began to tingle and itch.
Mosquitoes! Hundreds of them.
We ducked and dodged, frantically brushing them off our faces, off our bare arms.
“Yuck! It’s disgusting out here!” Clark cried. “I’m not staying here. I’m going to Atlanta!”
“It’s not this buggy at Grandma’s house,” Mom called out.
“Oh, sure.” Clark rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to the car.”
“Come on,” I insisted. “Let’s just see what’s over there.” I pointed to a patch of tall grass up ahead.
I stomped through the mud, glancing over my shoulder—to make sure Clark was following me. He was.
As we reached the grass, we could hear a loud rustling deep in the blades. Clark and I peered down, straining to see in the dark.
“Don’t wander too far,” Dad warned, as he and Mom pulled our luggage from the trunk, searching for a flashlight. “There might be snakes out there.”
“Snakes? Whoa!” Clark jumped away. He started running full speed back to the car.
“Don’t be a baby!” I called after him. “Let’s do some exploring.”
“No way!” He choked out the words. “And don’t call me a baby.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Come on. We’ll walk over to that tree. The one that towers over the others. It’s not that far away. Then we’ll come right back,” I promised. “Puh-lease.”
Clark and I started toward the tree.
We walked slowly. Through the darkness. Through the jungle of cypress trees.
The curtains of gray swayed on the tree branches. They were so thick—thick enough to hide behind.
It would be real easy to get lost in here, I realized. Lost forever.
I shuddered as the heavy gray curtains brushed against my skin. They felt like spiderwebs. Huge, sticky spiderwebs.
“Come on, Gretchen. Let’s turn back,” Clark pleaded. “It’s gross out here.”
