131. Triumph

Mounds stops the minivan, which now smells like McDonald’s, right underneath dripping branches by a familiar path that leads into the woods.

He stopped by my house to talk about everything that had happened and then said he wanted to show me something. I explained how I really, truly didn’t want any more surprises.

“But this one’s kinda cool,” Mounds says in his twelve-year-old-boy kind of way.

Mom and Dad have gone to take Aunt Alice to the nut house. I can’t say that out loud because I already said it twice and angered Mom. But it’s true, that’s really where they’re taking her. She’s turned into a zombie since the whole church thing.

Guess that’s what happens when you stab your father to death.

These thoughts are borderline ridiculous, but they’re true. I’m not trying to be mean. Aunt Alice was the mean old lady.

I guess now groundhogs everywhere can breathe a sigh of relief.

“What’s so funny?” Mounds asks.

“I’m just being stupid,” I say.

I think I’m nervous because I know where we are.

At the bridge.

The bridge. The Indian Bridge, the one with the strange name I’ve already forgotten.

It’s a murky day and perfect to go see the creatures that live underneath. But it takes me just a few seconds to see what Mounds wanted to show me.

The bridge has collapsed.

It’s cracked at the middle and now looks like a giant V. There are stones and rubble all around the base. The archway at the bottom is gone.

“Can you believe this?” Mounds asks. “It’s like there was an earthquake here, you know? But there wasn’t any kind of earthquake.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have your equipment.”

“Oh, I already checked it out. Twice, actually. But nothing.”

“When did this happen?”

“I heard about it yesterday. But I think at least a couple of days ago.”

It’s been four days since everything happened at the church.

I step toward the edge of the caved-in bridge. It’s like a knife cut the bridge in half.

I feel a chill as drops of rain fall down from the towering trees above.

“Crazy,” I say.

“Yeah, no joke. This bridge has been here for a long time. There’s some insane stuff going on around here.”

For a second I stare down below and think I see something. No, not a doll or anything to do with a baby, thankfully.

No, it’s something silver. Almost like the engine on my motorcycle.

Suddenly I want to go down and check it out.

I see something else. A tire in the rubble. One that looks exactly like the kind that might have gone on my bike.

I keep looking below, squinting, to study it.

“Do you see that?” I ask Mounds.

“What?”

“The tire.”

“Yeah. I found this not far from the edge the other day.”

Mounds hands me the silver Triumph emblem that was on the gas tank of my bike. I shake my head and then peer back over at the mess below.

“Unless somebody else has the exact same kind of bike you had …” Mounds says, his voice trailing off.

“What happened to it?”

He just shrugs. “I figured you knew and were just playing around with me.”

“My bike’s been missing since everything happened the other night.”

“Maybe one of them crazy loony-tune cult guys decided to trash your bike because they didn’t like you.”

“Yeah.”

But I don’t believe that.

This bridge was an entryway to some other place. And the wonderful, magical “key” that Kinner had spoken about wasn’t one you could hold in your hand, but was someone.

Me.

I wonder if riding my bike through the woods had anything to do with my bike being down there below.

Could I have possibly traveled over this bridge on my way to Marsh Falls?

“What are you thinking?” Mounds asks.

I just shake my head. “Just more questions. Lots of them.”

“That’s what makes life interesting. It’d be boring if every single question we had got answered. You know?”

“Yeah.”

But I’m not sure.

I think it would make me feel a lot better if all of my questions were answered.

I toss the Triumph badge down below into the valley of stone and brick. It seems like one last heroic thing I can do.

Maybe just to prove one last point.