Down World by Rebecca Phelps (beach read TXT) 📗

with George. “We can talk about it on the other side, once we’re safe.”

Something in Brady’s eyes told me that I was supposed to simply say yes. Had he noticed something I hadn’t? Was he trying to tell me something?

I nodded and we walked slowly through the room towards the door, past the dirty plates sitting on the little table.

George watched us from the door frame as we headed for the lake, making sure we didn’t stop. As we walked out of his earshot, I whispered to Brady, “What are you doing?”

“We can’t stay down here, Marina. There’s something wrong about it.”

“Do you mean those men who were talking? Did you understand what they were saying?”

Brady kept walking slowly, his hand grasping my upper arm, and I was reminded of the time I had seen him in the school hallway, holding on to Piper that way. Leading her away from danger, or so he’d thought.

I broke away from his grip and started to run. I didn’t dare look behind me to see if George was still watching, but even if he was, I was sure I could outrun him. He was old and out of shape. Brady could catch me, of course, but I had a feeling he would run with me. Either way, I wasn’t going back through the lake portal empty-handed.

I had made it inside the lip of the forest trail when Brady ran up behind me and grabbed me by the shoulder.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said as he slowed us down.

“Do you want to find Piper or don’t you?”

“I don’t think . . . ,” he began, looking around. “I don’t think this is a safe portal.”

I stared at him, seeing how scared he looked. What was I missing here?

“Hello, children,” came a man’s voice from behind us in the woods.

We spun around and realized that both of the men from the cabin were standing about eight feet away from us, holding their bikes.

Brady stepped in front of me again. He chuckled, trying, apparently, to act casual. “Hello,” he replied.

“What are you two talking about?” the first man asked. I was shocked that he had no accent whatsoever.

“My sister . . . ,” Brady began, nodding to me. “She wants to go to the movies, but I told our mom we’d be home.”

I was frozen. The men were wearing identical outfits—shorts with neatly pressed blue T-shirts and sparkling white sneakers. They even had baseball caps on, but they didn’t have any logo. It was like they had read in a book somewhere how to dress like an American, and had tried to emulate it, missing something along the way.

“Sorry if we’re disturbing you,” Brady continued.

“Oh, you’re not disturbing us,” the first man continued. “I’m just not quite sure why you’re lying.”

A moment of silence ensued in which all of us seemed to stare at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“Why don’t you come back with us?” the first man asked. “We can call your mother from the hotel. She must be worried about you.”

I silently weighed our options and realized that we didn’t have any. We couldn’t go back through the lake portal. They would be watching. And there was no point in trying to run back to George’s. We had already been spotted. There was nothing he could do for us now.

Going back to the hotel did seem like our safest bet. Maybe the DW versions of Sage and John could help. Maybe we could escape from there when no one was looking.

I reached out and took Brady’s hand, squeezing slightly to reassure him. “Okay.”

We all walked back at a steady clip, the men pushing their bicycles. Along the way, they occasionally made what was clearly intended to be polite conversation. They talked about the weather and asked if we were hungry.

We both simply grunted and smiled, not sure what to say. Who were these men? Brady never let go of my hand. I kept telling myself that soon enough we’d be able to sneak away and run back to the lake.

We broke through the woods at the end of the path and when I saw the hotel, it was all I could do not to gasp.

It was completely transformed. Gone was the dilapidated little garden plot with the broken lawn furniture. In its place was a sleek patio with clean white lounge chairs. Several guests were sunbathing on the chairs, all looking like movie stars from the golden age of Hollywood. The women, with their hair piled high on their heads, wore retro bathing suits and large dark sunglasses. The men also looked very tan, and also somehow out of date. Their hair was all parted on the side, the swim shorts coming up too high on their waists. Was this some kind of theme party?

To our right I noticed a lap pool where the garden had been. A man did a rigorous backstroke down its length.

The two men parked their bikes next to a gurgling fountain, not bothering to lock them, and led us into the hotel through the back, which was now two large double doors leading directly into the lobby.

I had never seen anything like this place. A large atrium with trees and even more fountains sat in the middle, and dozens of people milled about, checking in at the very sleek front desk. Actual bellboys were tagging luggage. Again, everyone seemed to be dressed like they were attending a 1950s costume party.

I looked down at the highly polished tile beneath my feet, wondering what had happened to that hideous dark red carpet.

“And who are these two?” a woman asked as she approached. On hearing her voice, my body clenched as though it had been hit by a car.

I looked up and saw her standing there, her hair up in a bouffant style like all the other women. She was wearing a bright red suit, matching her perfectly applied lipstick. She looked young and she looked beautiful, like