Robby saw her and intuited what she was going to try to do. His mind reasoned that, without knowing who the crazy looking man was, all that would probably happen was that Debbie would get in trouble. He lunged forward and grasped her slim waist, pulling her behind a huge old oak tree. She struggled against him, her yells overcome by the noise of the bulldozer as it strained to push the huge pile of debris a little further. In the end he had to put his arms all the way around her. His hands inadvertently were filled with her breasts as she strained to get away from him.
Mike looked on in astonishment as his two friends struggled. What was Robby doing grabbing Debbie's breasts? He had the flash of a thought that he wished he could be doing that. Debbie was a good looking chick and he'd tried to get her to go out with him lots of times, but she didn't go on dates. Neither did Robby.
Now Robby was yelling in her ear and she finally stopped struggling. Her hands came to his and dragged them off her breasts. Then she turned around and hugged her brother, burying her face in his chest. Mike could tell she was sobbing, but he couldn't figure out whether it had to do with her breasts, or what was going on that short distance away.
The motor of the bulldozer suddenly went quiet ... so quiet that it seemed to the kids as if they had gone deaf. All three held their breath, Debbie less successfully as she gasped a sob now and again. The driver was getting down and his feet made noises on the metal parts of the bulldozer. The sounds were so clear that the kids suddenly thought any sound they made would be clearly heard by the two men.
The hermit yelled, as if the motor was still running.
"That's fine for now. I can get a truck in here at least. There'll be more work later, but I have to make plans."
He walked over to meet the driver, digging in the pockets of his overcoat. They saw him pull out a wad of money that would choke a horse and he peeled bills off of it, handing them to the driver.
In a softer, but clearly audible voice, the hermit said, "I thank you, sir, for your prompt service. I assume cash will be sufficient?"
"Cash is right fine, mister Smith. And I appreciate the bonus. I can use it. Running one of these beasts is right costly. But they sure do short work of things. When I was a boy we'd have had to do all that with horses and it would have taken a week. But for your bonus it wouldn't have hardly been worth taking her off the truck."
Mister Smith smiled through his thick brush of fur and waved. "I'll get the gate."
With that the driver got back on his iron beast and it roared to life, the blade lifting like some monstrous guillotine, ready to destroy something else.
Debbie flinched. She had been darting looks at the house, and the pile of debris, and the hermit, trying to assess what all this meant. The noise of the bulldozer unnerved her. She saw with her own eyes what it could do. She feared at first that he was just going to make a long sweep back to the gate, destroying more of their precious magical forest, but the thing, with a groan of metal and the screaming of the motor, making huge clouds of sooty black smoke, spun as if it were light as a feather and lumbered off back down the smooth track it had made. With the blade raised it moved much faster than it had before.
The hermit stared at the pile of brush and trees and gave a little shake of his head. Then he turned and just looked at the mansion, hands on his hips, staring, as if he could see something the others could not. The noise of the bulldozer got more and more distant and then there was a grinding noise made by the treads on the big metal ramps leading up to the long, low trailer. The noise cut off and it was quiet as a tomb again.
The three teens stood, stock still, watching the stranger watching the house.
After what seemed like an interminable time, there was the sound of a truck motor starting, revving up and pulling away. Mister Smith turned his head toward the newly cleared driveway and then turned his body and began walking down to the gate.
Silent shadows flicked from tree to tree ... three shadows ... as the teens cut through the forest on a soft carpet of dead, moist leaves. One of them stepped on a branch that cracked like a gunshot to their ears and the other two shot dark looks, raising fingers to their lips. They crept on, arriving just in time to see mister Smith leaned against the one open half of the gate, pushing with all his strength to close it.
"Gonna have to get some oil on these hinges," he muttered.
He moved inside and pulled, getting the two halves closed as much as he could. Then, digging into another pocket of that strange greatcoat, he pulled a shiny new lock from it. Bending he gathered up the old chain and draped it through the iron bars of the gate, pulling on the loose ends until the gate closed even more. He fumbled with the ends and then stood back. The new lock was securely fastened. He nodded, turned on his heel, and began trudging back up the drive toward the manor.
The three kids looked at each other, staring open mouthed.
They were locked in.
Mike started to say something, but Robby shushed him quietly. He held up a hand, standing still, his head swiveling, watching the stranger until the number of trees between watcher and watched got so numerous that they could only catch glimpses of movement. Robby waited longer and then finally dropped his hand. He turned to his sister and friend and beckoned them toward him.
"What are we gonna do?" whispered Mike anxiously. He looked up at the sharp spikes that topped each upright iron bar in the fence that, as far as he knew, completely surrounded the property. The bars were only six inches apart. There was no way to go through, or over the fence.
"We know a way out," whispered Robby. Debbie shot him a look but he shook his head. "We used to play in the woods. Follow me."
He took them along the fence, back toward the corner they'd run around ... not right by the fence, but ten or fifteen yards inside the undergrowth, as if he were afraid someone outside the fence might see them. To his credit he made it look as if he were searching for something, though he knew exactly where the wide spot in the bars was. It took them fifteen minutes to circle the mansion. When they got there it was obvious that there was a trail leading from the fence toward the house.
"Look!" said Mike. "Somebody's been using this!"
"Game trail," said Robby confidently. "You know, rabbits ... deer ... that kind of thing."
There were deer in these parts, though none of the teens had ever seen one that hadn't been shot by a hunter and hung up to butcher. Mike nodded. His primary concern was getting out. There was no way he wanted to go knock on the door and face mister Smith to get that gate unlocked. He saw the gap in the fence. Someone had gone to great lengths with some kind of heavy force to bend the bars apart. What none of them knew was that this was the entrance point that kidnappers had used decades before to gain entry onto the property.
That wouldn't have mattered anyway. Now all three youths squeezed between the bars. As soon as they were out all three ran like the wind toward Debbie and Robby's house.
They were out of breath when they arrived, pounding through the door and into the kitchen where they stood, poised for further flight for some reason. Debbie had a wild look in her eyes. Her hair, which had been in a pony tail, had come partly undone, perhaps from brushing a tree branch, and her hair flew off in several directions. Her heaving chest caught Mike's attention. He could see the dents in her shirt that he knew were made by nipples.
"What was that all about?" he asked, breathlessly.
"I don't know," said Robby, sitting down. Then he stood up again and went to the fridge, pulling out bottles of Royal Crown Cola for them all. He couldn't find an opener, digging through the junk drawer under the counter. Debbie took hers and dug the edge of the serrated cap into the aluminum strip that went along the edge of the counter. She raised it fractionally and then jerked downward. The cap sailed and she tipped the bottle up, drinking thirstily.
"You know mom doesn't like that," chided Robby. "It marks up the aluminum."
Debbie let the bottle fall back, half empty. She let out a long burp and wiped her mouth with her forearm. "That's not important right now," she said edgily. "We have to stop that man."
"Why?" asked Mike, trying to do the same thing he'd seen Debbie do, but unable to make it work. "Maybe he bought the place."
Debbie jerked the bottle from his hands and opened it for him expertly on the edge of the counter, like she had her own. She handed it back to him.
"He can't buy the manor." She unconsciously slipped into her common name for the Nettleton Mansion.
Mike took a gulp of pop and tried to burp. It was a short one and he looked disgusted. "Why not? If he's crazy enough and has the money he can do what he wants."
Debbie was about to hotly exclaim that he couldn't buy the place because it was hers!, but Robby shot her a look that made her mouth snap shut.
"He doesn't look like he has that kind of money," said Robby hurriedly.
"He sure pulled a bundle out of that coat," insisted Mike. "And he paid that guy on that bulldozer. Maybe he's some rich crazy guy or something. He'd have to be crazy to buy that place. That's for sure." He went back to trying to work up a respectable belch.
"We have to tell Mom!" said Debbie urgently. "She'll know what to do."
"Why do you have to do anything?" insisted Mike. "Who cares?" He took another swig of RC Cola. "I can't wait to tell my parents," he said, exhibiting just who he thought would care.
"Yeah" said Robby. "Go home and tell your parents. I need to ... ah, mow the lawn anyway."
Debbie could tell that her brother was trying to get rid of his friend, which was fine with her, because this was an emergency and they needed to do something. Mike, not having any of the urgency that was seething beneath the surface of both twins, kept trying to work up a burp. His eyes fell to Debbie's chest again.
"Hey, I just remembered something," he said.
The other two looked at him anxiously.
"When we were out there, watching them, and you tried to go do something ..." he addressed Debbie, "and Rob stopped you? Remember?"
She nodded, wishing he'd just leave so she and her brother could discuss what to do.
"Rob touched your titties," announced Mike.
"No he didn't," she said hotly.
"Yes he did! He had his hands all over your titties," insisted Mike.
"What's your point Mike?" demanded Debbie.
"Well I was wondering if maybe you'd let me touch them too." Mike had known the twins for as long as he could remember, and he'd spent hours playing baseball with them, or riding bikes or playing Monopoly. He'd always accepted Debbie as just another friend ... not a girl. It was only recently that he'd noticed her as a member of the fairer sex.
"What kind of pervert are you?" Debbie leaned in close to him.
"I'm not a pervert!" yelped Mike. "He did it! So why can't I?"
"Mike, buddy, I didn't grab her boobs on purpose, you idiot," said Robby. "I was just trying to keep her from running in front of that bulldozer. It was an accident."
"Oh," said Mike with obvious disappointment, looking down. He then looked back up, hope back in his eyes. "What did it feel like? Were they soft?"
"You really are a pervert!" squealed Debbie.
"No I'm not!" defended Mike. "Guys do that all the time. If you like a girl you're supposed to touch her titties."
"So you like me?" asked Debbie, not at all sure how she felt about that possibility. She had too many things on her mind right now to think about that.
"No!" blurted Mike. "I mean you know ... not like that. I think you're cool and everything. I just never got to touch a girls titties before."
Debbie folded her arms under the titties being discussed, framing them nicely, though that wasn't her intent.
"Well you're not going to be feeling mine any time soon. I can't believe you Mike Sumner! I should tell your mother what you just asked."
TBC