The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 3

by Roy MacGregor

  The tide had turned for the Owls. Inspired by Sam’s goal, they kept coming against the strong Mountain team, and soon it seemed only a matter of time until the Owls scored again.

  It was Fahd, of all people, who gave them their next goal. He scored his second goal of the tournament on a hard, low shot that screamed right along the ice, through a crowd in front of the net, and caught the goalie by surprise as it ripped just under his stick.

  Ten minutes into the third, Sarah took a beautiful pass from Sam and flew up the ice with Dmitri and one defence back. Travis had seen this play a hundred times. Across to Dmitri, back to Sarah, back to Dmitri, the water bottle flying against the glass.

  Screech Owls 3, Vancouver Mountain 3.

  At the end of regulation they were tied.

  The first game had been left with the score even, but now they needed a tie-breaker to decide which team would advance to the final. The tournament rules called for immediate sudden-death overtime, with four-a-side for the first two minutes, then three-a-side, then two-a-side.

  After four minutes with no score, the referee signalled for two-a-side. Travis was halfway over the boards when he felt his sweater being pulled back.

  It was Joe Hall. Travis wasn’t going.

  “Sarah and Sam!” Joe Hall called out.

  Travis slunk back onto the bench. He’d been caught by surprise. He’d assumed it would be him and Sarah out–captain and top player–but now it was Sarah and Sam. Two girls. He could see the Rideau Rebels up in the stands, laughing and pointing. The big centre, MacNeil, was on his feet, shouting something, but Travis couldn’t make out what it was. He guessed it wasn’t complimentary.

  He turned and looked at Nish, standing behind the bench in his street clothes. Nish had a smirk on his face and was shaking his head in disbelief.

  Things soon changed, however, as Sam chased down a loose puck and used her powerful body to ride off the Mountain player who got there first. She turned as soon as the puck came free and lifted the puck so high it very nearly hit the clock, the rolling puck falling with a slap just across centre.

  Sarah had read the play perfectly. She picked up the puck in full flight, completely free of the defence.

  Across the ice, the Mountain coach almost came over the boards screaming. “Offside! Offside!” But the linesman had waved it off.

  The crowd was on its feet.

  Sarah came in gracefully, stickhandling carefully, and moved to her backhand–or so it seemed! She made the motion, but just as it appeared she was shifting to go to the short side, she moved the puck back to her forehand and fired a hard wrist shot.

  The Mountain goalie, who had a great glove hand, got a small piece of the shot–but not enough.

  The red light came on!

  The Mountain coach was screaming again!

  The Owls poured over the boards, heading to pile onto Sam and Sarah.

  They were going to the final!

  Travis threw down his stick and gloves and hurled himself into the writhing mess in the corner. Buried somewhere underneath was the player who had set up the winner and the player who had scored it. He could see neither of them.

  But he could see Nish. Still standing on the bench. On his face, a look of shock.

  “PERFECT! ABSOLUTELY PERFECT!”

  Nish sat in the centre of the tent rubbing his hands together and chuckling. Travis had rarely, if ever, seen his friend so pleased with himself.

  “I’ve really outdone myself on this one, I think.”

  “You’ve come undone,” corrected Travis. “You’re nuts.”

  “It’s going to work. I promise you.”

  Nish had been working away like a mad scientist any chance he got. He’d taken apart several of the larger fireworks, saved all the powder inside, and used the fuses to build one very long one. He’d sneaked into the women’s outhouse and wired several cannon crackers deep below the seat. Then he’d run his long fuse out through a crack in the outhouse wall and over to the men’s’ outhouse a short distance away, where he’d hidden it carefully from sight.

  “How did you stand it?” Fahd wanted to know when he heard.

  “I held my breath, stupid–and worked in shifts.”

  “I’d have gagged,” said Fahd.

  “How are you going to catch her going?” Lars asked.

  “She’ll have to go sometime,” Nish said, lightly clapping his hands together, “and when she does, I’ll be there with my trusty lighter.”

  He pulled out a lighter and flicked it on, holding the flame out for all to see.

  “Where’d you get that?” Travis asked.

  “My good friends up the road,” Nish said.

  Travis shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”

  Travis left the mad scientist and his admiring throng and set out to walk around the camp. It was a beautiful afternoon, the day before the final game, and the sun was gold and dancing on the river. There was a pair of Canada geese near the shore with a family of puffy little ones, and Travis watched awhile and tried to take his mind off everything. Nish’s mad scheme. The mysterious photograph. Joe Hall.

  He was worried about Joe Hall. Sarah had noticed the coach’s ill health as well, but he’d seemed to rally for the game against the Vancouver Mountain, and by game’s end they’d forgotten all about it.

  Travis decided to track down Joe Hall and see for himself how he was doing. He headed up the nature trail that led out past the point. His cottage had to be somewhere up that direction.

  “Hey! Where’re ya goin’?”

  It was Sarah. He turned and waved back.

  “Just going for a walk.”

  Sarah smiled. “Like some company?”

  “Sure.”

  Sarah hurried to join him on the trail. “You’re looking for Joe Hall, aren’t you?” she said in a quiet voice.

  “I guess,” Travis answered. He really wasn’t sure what he was trying to do.

  They walked out past the point, then took to the shoreline and made their way upstream. The bush was tangled and the rocks sharp, but by working half through knee-deep water and half through the underbrush, they steadily made their way.

  There was no sign of a cottage.

  “Hey!” a voice called. “What’re you kids up to?”

  Travis and Sarah stopped dead in their tracks. They tried to make out who it was through the thick brush, but could only see a figure moving and a flash of something yellow. Yellow fur.

  It was a dog–the setter that belonged to the farmer who cut the grass at the camp. Travis felt his heart begin to beat again.

  “Hi!” Sarah called when the farmer came into sight. The setter raced at them, leaping high in an attempt to lick Sarah. She caught the dog by the fur of its collar, settling it and patting it gently.

  The farmer seemed to recognize them now. “Youse two are from the camp, eh?”

  “Yeah. I’m Travis Lindsay. This is Sarah Cuthbertson.”

  “You both swim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you got to be careful walking along there, you know. Not much of a current here, but enough to drown more than a few that slipped in.”

  “We’ll be careful,” said Travis. “We’re looking for Joe Hall’s cottage.”

  “Who?”

  “Joe Hall–our coach for the tournament. He’s staying in a cottage up here.”

  The farmer shook his head. He took off his cap, sweat heavy on his brow, and rubbed it off with his shirt sleeve.

  “No Hall along here,” he said. “No cottage for that matter. Next property north is a park.”

  “There’s no cottage here at all?”

  “None’s that anyone can use,” the man said. “Abandoned place up around the next point–but nobody’s been there for years. People owned it must have died, I think.”

  “You’re sure there’s been nobody there?”

  “I’m sure. They’d have to cross my land to get to it, and I ain’t seen nobody around here all week
but you two kids. And what I can’t see my dog smells–and she ain’t said nothing about any stranger being around here.”

  “Can we walk further up?” Sarah asked.

  “Long as you’re careful,” the farmer said. “Don’t go near the cottage, though–it’s a trap. Floor wouldn’t hold you.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Travis said again.

  The farmer nodded and moved back towards his field. They could see a large green tractor in the distance. He must have been taking off hay.

  The dog stayed with them, dancing around them and splashing out into the water after imagined sticks. Travis was glad of the company.

  Before long they rounded the next point.

  “There it is!” Sarah said.

  At first Travis couldn’t see it, then gradually it came into focus: a black and grey, sun-bleached shack so old it seemed to blend in with the landscape. He could see broken windows, and a large tree branch that had fallen and caved in a portion of the roof.

  “Let’s get a closer look!” Sarah said.

  “Okay,” Travis said. He could hear the lack of confidence in his own voice, but Sarah was already splashing ahead, taking a shortcut through the shallows. Travis followed and expected the setter to splash ahead and catch up to Sarah, but there was no dog.

  He turned. The setter was sitting there, whimpering, her tail wagging fast, her eyes filled with worry.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” Travis called.

  Sarah stopped. “What’s up?”

  “The dog won’t move.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Maybe she’s trained to stay on her own property. Don’t worry about her–she’ll find her way back.”

  Travis stepped out into the water to join Sarah. It was cold against his bare legs and it tickled. The rocks were slimy. He slipped and nearly fell several times, but soon Travis and Sarah were almost to the broken-down dock that had once belonged to the cottage.

  The dog was moaning. She was still sitting on the other side of the shallow bay, whining and wagging her tail hopefully.

  “She’s chicken!” said Travis.

  “No way! Setters love water,” Sarah said. “She’s just trained not to wander, that’s all.”

  “I guess,” Travis said, but he wasn’t so sure. Something was making him feel uneasy, too.

  There was another moan, louder this time.

  “Stupid dog,” Travis said.

  Sarah had stopped abruptly. “That wasn’t the dog!” she whispered.

  Travis felt a sharp chill run down his spine. He listened, and heard a low sorrowful groan from the cottage.

  “I’m getting outta here!” he said.

  “What if it’s Joe Hall?” Sarah hissed.

  “It can’t be. The farmer never saw him. The dog would have known if someone was here.”

  Sarah pointed back to the setter, still watching, still fretting. “Maybe the dog does know,” she said.

  Travis felt his heart pound hard against his chest. He tried to speak, but his voice broke and creaked. “We’re…not supposed to go in,” he reminded Sarah.

  “What if he needs help?”

  “It’s not even him,” said Travis. “It’s some animal. Maybe a skunk. Maybe even a bear.”

  “I’m going in,” she said.

  Sarah stepped up on shore. The dog on the far side of the water howled and barked. She began running back and forth frantically along the shore, but was afraid to come to them.

  Sarah stepped cautiously along the dry, broken planks of the dock. Several were rotten and had turned to dust around the rusted nails. But she picked her way carefully, and Travis followed.

  They could see where once there had been a path to the cottage. It was overgrown now and barely identifiable. Sarah pushed through, lowering her head against the flicking branches.

  Travis was right behind her.

  When she reached the cottage Sarah held up her hand for him to stop. The only sound was the frantic whining and barking of the setter in the distance.

  “You hear anything?” Sarah asked.

  “No,” Travis said. He wanted to bolt. He wanted to run all the way back to his sleeping bag and jump into it and pretend that he’d never even heard of a cottage upstream from the camp.

  Sarah stepped up onto the broken-down porch. A chipmunk scurried under, chattering wildly and frightening them both. But Sarah kept going. She came to the door and turned the latch. It swung open, surprisingly easily. Almost as if it had been recently oiled.

  They stepped inside, Travis brushing aside cobwebs that clung to his hands like cotton candy. He almost gagged from the smell of must and rot.

  Sarah stopped. She was shivering, uncertain where to head.

  Travis didn’t dare move.

  Then he felt a large, cold, clammy hand settle on the back of his neck!

  What are you two doing here?”

  The voice was familiar, though weak. Travis turned and stared up into the drawn, pale face of Joe Hall. He didn’t look like “Bad” Joe Hall at all. He looked like “Sick” Joe Hall.

  “We, we were looking for you,” Travis admitted.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

  There was a long silence, then Joe Hall sighed. He seemed very tired.

  “I’m fine,” he said, unconvincingly. “You may as well go ahead in–but step carefully.”

  They edged past old furniture and even raspberry shoots that had pushed up inside the abandoned cottage. They passed through into a sitting room, where the light was falling in shafts through torn curtains.

  There was a cot in the room. Joe Hall must have been lying there.

  The light was better here, and the two Screech Owls took the opportunity to look more carefully at their new friend. Joe Hall looked terrible. His eyes seemed sunken and every few moments he shook from the inside out with a deep, quiet cough.

  “You’re sick!” Sarah said.

  “It’s just the flu,” Joe Hall said. “I’ll be fine for the game.”

  Sarah pushed aside the tattered curtains. The sun poured in through the broken and cobwebbed window, causing Joe Hall to blink and Sarah’s and Travis’s eyes to widen. He looked terrible. He’d lost weight.

  “You need a doctor,” said Sarah.

  “I’ll be fine,” Joe Hall argued. “The worst is over.”

  “What’re you doing here?” Travis asked.

  “I come here sometimes,” Joe Hall said. “No one knows about it. Place used to belong to the Westwick family. You remember I told you about Harry, the ‘Rat’? I’m a bit of a student of ‘Rat’ Westwick, you might say.” He smiled at Travis. “He’s the one taught us that heel pass, remember?”

  Travis nodded. He couldn’t believe anyone would want to come here on their own. Especially if they were ill.

  “If I’m the same after the big game,” Joe Hall said, “I’ll see a doctor. I promise you that, okay?”

  He flashed his old smile and immediately looked much better. Sarah and Travis couldn’t help themselves. They nodded, though they still felt he needed help now, not tomorrow. But Joe Hall wasn’t going to listen to a couple of kids.

  “You better head back to camp now,” he said. “They’ll be sending out a search party.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Sarah. “You’re sure you’re going to be all right here, though?”

  “I’m fine,” Joe Hall said. He smiled again, but it wasn’t so convincing this time. “I’ll see you two at the rink, okay?”

  They nodded in agreement.

  Joe Hall walked them down to the dock, and when the setter caught sight of them it began to howl and moan. The dog seemed frantic, racing back and forth in the water, snapping and growling and barking.

  “She’s still waiting for us,” Sarah said. “She wouldn’t come across the water with us.”

  Joe Hall nodded, swallowed hard. “There’s been a skunk around,” he said. “I guess the dog smells it.”

  “I guess,” Travis said.

&n
bsp; The dog obviously had a better nose than he had. All Travis could smell was the musty old cottage and the river.

  OH NO!”

  Travis had been first to break through the thick bush and find the path leading down into the camp. But when he did he saw that Nish’s mad plan was already under way.

  Fahd was waving frantically from near the flagpole. He was trying to catch Nish’s attention. Nish was standing behind the boys’ tent with Andy and Lars. Lars caught the signal and punched Nish’s shoulder.

  They peeked around the side of the tent just in time to see Sam leave the dining hall and head for the women’s outhouse.

  Nish broke across the camp at full speed, jumping from tree to bush to tree, as if no one would notice.

  Sam went inside the outhouse and closed the door.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah asked from behind Travis.

  “It’s Nish’s revenge,” Travis said. “He’s wired the outhouse for when Sam goes.”

  “‘Wired the outhouse’?”

  “He set some fireworks. He’s going to fire them off when she’s in there.”

  “That’s dangerous!”

  “Nish claims it’s only a couple of big firecrackers, and they’re well below the seat in a wire cage.”

  “How’d he get down in there?”

  “He won’t say.”

  “He’s insane.”

  “I know, I know.”

  Nish was now racing as fast as he could to the men’s outhouse. Fahd already had the door open. Nish was in in a flash. Fahd shut the door and ran for the tent.

  “What’s happening?” Sarah asked.

  “He’s got this long fuse and he’s going to light it from where he is.”

  “He knows what he’s doing?”

  “Nooo–but when has that ever stopped him?”

  They waited. Sarah seemed apprehensive, worried about her friend. Travis was nervous as well, but worried also about his friend, Nish. He couldn’t afford to get in any more trouble here.

  There was a long pause. They could hear giggling coming from the direction of the boys’ tent. Andy was making farting noises under his arm.