Dastardly Bastard(32)

“We can just keep going. See if Lyle’s theory pans out,” Trevor offered. “Why don’t we just keep walking? We could still hit the other side, the other… portal.”

Jaleel shook his head. “If there even is another side. We don’t know that. We could just be stuck down here. That’s why I need to check the bridge. There may be a way up through that cave.”





25


LYLE FELT HIS CELL PHONE vibrate. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. While the group argued by the bridge, he snuck off to the rock face to answer.

“Dad?”

“Hey, Brody. You coming?”

“Where are you?” Lyle whispered, glancing over at his mom.

“Where do you think? Look over here.”

Lyle leaned out and looked down the path that led to Scooter’s Dive. Nothing. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the opposite direction. At first, he figured it was just the bridge moving in the breeze, but then he spotted his father across the expanse, waving at him. Lyle thought it was strange his father didn’t have a phone pressed to his ear and wondered how he was talking to him. But the thought flew away when he started to feel lightheaded.

“Come help me find the camera man, Brody.”

“What are you doing?” his mother screamed.

Lyle froze. Somehow, he was already halfway across the bridge. He stared down through the slats, his heart quickening in his chest. The bridge swayed, and he gripped the ropes on either side, afraid to move.

“Lyle!”

“Mom!”

Jaleel’s voice echoed across the chasm. “I don’t think the bridge will hold both of you.”

“I have to get him!”

The tour guide’s voice came again. “He’s almost across.”

Lyle hadn’t moved, but when he looked up, he found he was, indeed, almost to the other side. He couldn’t remember even taking a step. He watched in horror as his foot went out in front of him, landing on the next wooden slat.

He screamed, “Help!”

“Lyle!” His mother sounded on the edge of hysteria. He imagined Jaleel was holding her back, maybe the others were helping, too. Why? Why wasn’t anyone coming for him?

“I can’t stop!”

The rope pinched the thumb on his right hand. It hurt, and he thought it was probably bleeding, but he didn’t let go, not for a second. He didn’t even want to turn his head to look.

He broke into a sweat. The matted hair on his forehead was starting to itch. He tried his best to ignore it. The air wasn’t hot. In fact, it was rather cool, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He imagined his anxiety as a virus, his body firing on all cylinders trying to kill it. He’d learned that in science class last year.

Through the rotten planks at his feet, Lyle could see just how deep Waverly Chasm truly was. It seemed to go on forever, never ending. Lyle imagined the Devil sitting down there on a dark throne of bones and skulls, beaming, waiting for Lyle to fall into his clutches.

“Lyle!” His mother’s voice cracked. He knew she was crying, and he wanted nothing more than to be back with her. He didn’t want to be on the bridge, couldn’t remember why he should be. Nothing made sense. His head throbbed with brilliant pain, making him squint through his tears.

“Mommy! Please!”

Ten more planks and he’d be on the next flat area. His feet kept moving. Sweat and tears burned his eyes. The rope stung his palms as he slid them along. His thumb throbbed from the bite the binding had given him.

Five more planks.

“Doing good, kid.” His father sounded proud. Lyle chanced a look up, taking his eyes off the planks for only a split second.

His father was gone.

Lyle became aware that he had regained control of his body. He started to turn around to go back to his mom, but the bridge swung in a slight breeze, making him freeze in place. Once the bridge steadied, he realized he was only three planks from safety. He could almost jump that distance.

He raised his foot and stretched his leg to see how far he could get in one step. His foot landed on the second to last board. As he swung his other leg forward, hoping to reach the other side in one more long stride, the wood beneath him snapped.

“Lyle!” his mother screamed.

Lyle sank down between the boards. His death grip on the ropes held, but just barely. The length cut into his hands. Warm liquid—blood or sweat, he wasn’t sure—leaked from his palms, rolling down into his armpits. He just wanted to be back with his mom. Back in the safety of her arms.

He could have turned back. He’d had the chance. Why hadn’t he taken it?

“I’m coming, Lyle! Hang in there!” It was the tour guide. Thank God.

Lyle whined as the pain in his hands became unbearable.

The bridge began to shake. He could only assume Jaleel was coming for him.

“Hurry!” Lyle yelled.

“Get him! Damn it, get him!” his mother wailed. “Hold on, Lyle. He’s gonna get you!”

Back and forth the bridge went, making Lyle seasick. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he managed to chew it back, swallowing the retched fluid. His vision swam. He could feel his grip loosening. His hands were going numb.

Jaleel called, “Almost there.”