25
Down the Blue River
Upton-Haywood, John. “Guild of Thieves SHOCKER. Fugitives Lure Families to Abandoned Amusement Park.” Colta City Herald 15 Jul.
A man allegedly involved in the terrorist attack over the 4th of July weekend has been identified as Osbert Collingwood, former professor of Business Psychology at Goodson University.
Collingwood was captured after he and a group of 42 men lured the public to the disused Curleyworld amusement park. The park is owned by Dexter Stonehouse, who was unavailable for comment due to upcoming legal proceedings related to charges of criminal conspiracy leveled earlier this month.
His wife, Olivia Stonehouse, released a statement that said “We were unaware of the criminal element that took over the park and invited the fine families of Colta City into this unsafe environment. We’ll be working with the attendees to find a way to make it up to them. We will also look at ways to safely re-open the park for everybody to enjoy.”
Officer Olivia Link identified Collingwood as a suspect who’s wanted for questioning in connection to the bombing of the police operations center in Dixon Park on July 4th.
The Colta City Police Department said in a statement that two unidentified bodies were found on the scene, as well as dozens of injuries among Collingwood’s followers. No further details are being released at this time.
This reporter encountered the child vigilante known as Dogboy as he fled the scene. He had this to say:
“I saw that Osbert guy poking around downtown and tracked him out here. He had this whole place crawling with thieves. Guess I didn’t get enough the first time. They’re all in there now. Hope those cops can round them up.”
I asked Dogboy if he had anything to say to the citizens of Colta City in light of the mayor’s mounting campaign to see him arrested. Dogboy said “I’m only a kid, okay? My powers were acting a little funny but they’re okay now. I’m gonna be out there every night fighting for people who can’t. If you ever feel like you don’t have control, look up. I’ll be there, watching from the rooftops. You all have control. You make your own luck. I’m just here to help out when that luck turns rotten.”
The district attorney is still determining what charges he’ll bring against Collingwood. When asked for comment on Dogboy’s involvement, Mayor Lane’s office issued a “no comment.”
“What do you want? I told you my mom doesn’t like strange boys showing up.”
Axle put down the notebook. “Yo, I think we need to talk.”
“About what? The fact that you’re trying to cut me out of the group?” she said.
“Five minutes. That’s all I need,” Axle said, scooting over so Cindy could sit beside him. “Look, I been thinking about everything and I wanted to let you know I’m cool with canceling the vote if you’re cool with splitting up the work.”
“Aw, little Axle had a change of heart,” Cindy said. “What brought that on?”
“I ain’t built for being the boss,” Axle said. “The guy in charge is supposed to have a team he’s in charge of. Those cats barely listened to a word I said. I’m thinking maybe you handle the leading and the planning, and I’ll handle all the flashy stuff: names, costumes, things like that.”
Cindy feigned shock, falling back onto the stoop behind her. “Wait. I don’t know if my heart can handle this. Not only are you backing down, but you actually like my code names idea?”
“Works for your boy,” Axle said, handing Cindy the notebook. “Here. I wrote down some ideas.”
She flipped through the notebook, page after page filled with detailed sketches depicting their group in various costumes. He suggested code names in the margins: Coaxle, Material Girl, and others. The last page had all five of them standing in tableau. Thick, angular block letters spelled out COLTA CITY SHADOWS above them.
“Colta City Shadows?” Cindy said. “Is that a baseball team or something?”
“Nah, that’s what we call our group. I mean, we all got roped into Mayor Lane’s scam when we entered his job shadowing program, right? A name like this? He’ll know exactly who we are and what we want. It’ll make him squirm.”
“I like it,” she said, handing him back the notebook. “You sure you don’t want to be leader? That’s just cruel enough to come from somebody in charge.”
“Nah, I think you got a handle on it. What’s say we bring it up with the others at our next meeting?” Axle said. He jumped down off the stoop.
“Where are we gonna have it? Big Bald Bob didn’t seem like he’d change his mind on the A-V room.”
“I hear Curleyworld’s pretty empty now, and I might know a guy who left us a way in when he was leaving.”
“Another great idea. See, Axle? Once you stopped worrying who was in charge you found all sorts of ways to help,” Cindy said.
With that they said their goodbyes, and Cindy took the elevator back to her apartment.
When she got to her room she found the window standing open, the breeze twisting the curtain around itself. She went to close it, but noticed a rock holding down a piece of paper out on the fire escape. It read:
Cindy, thanks again for all the help during the “Curleyworld Follies” case. If you hadn’t been there to help, who knows what I would have done?
Anyway, I was wondering if we could finally have that date. Forget Tralbert’s Arcade. All I want is a nice little picnic.
Meet me at 6 PM sharp in the place where we came up with our first plan to take down the Guild of Thieves.
I’ll bring the food.
– Bronson Black
Cindy smiled then ran to her door. “Mom, I gotta go out for a little bit,” she yelled down the hallway. Her mother didn’t answer, which meant she wasn’t home, which meant Cindy was free and clear to go spend some time with her boyfriend.
She threw open her closet to find the perfect combination of t-shirt, jeans, and baseball cap to wear. She was excited for the date, but she was even more excited to listen to Bronson’s story about the mysterious Willowwood.
“Listen, twerp, you promised. I’m holding you to it,” Cindy said, taking a bite from her gyro.
“We shouldn’t even say his name,” Bronson said, looking up in the dark corners where the firelight didn’t reach. “He’s probably somewhere listening to us.”
“Aw, c’mon. A couple details. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Okay, but they aren’t gonna tell you much of anything. I couldn’t believe the things he could do. It was the kind of stuff you see in your dreams. Things that shouldn’t happen. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Could you be a little more vague?” Cindy said, leaning her head on Bronson’s shoulder. He put his arm around her.
“You know one thing that’s weird?” Bronson asked.
“What’s that?” she said.
“That guy from the Herald said all those other thieves got knocked out over by the stage. I didn’t do it. I asked Mr. Horum. He said he didn’t know anything. I wonder how all those guys could have got beaten up without us noticing. Wonder if your friends had anything to do with it.”
Cindy blushed then tilted her head down a little more. “No, they were busy busting Mr. Horum out. I bet you it was that Osbert guy. He seems like the type that would do something like that. You know, I think I saw him coming from over there now that I think about it. Right before you woke up on the roller coaster.”
“But you were knocked out,” Bronson said, trying to look past the bill of her cap.
“I woke up before for a few seconds. He came in right before I passed out again.”
“Oh, Must have been Osbert then,” he said.
A quick refill in both their cups and the topic of conversation changed to more mundane topics: parents, school, TV, that sort of thing.
As Bronson threw some dirt on the fire to put it out, Mr. Horum peeked through the hole in the brick wall that led to the alley.
“You come in soon, boy-oh. Whole shop smell like camp fire.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Horum,” Bronson said, dumping the last of the soda on the fire just in case. “If it’s okay, I was going to keep Cindy company at the bus stop.”
“Is no problem,” Mr. Horum said. He climbed out from behind the dumpster then went around the building and back into the shop. He was counting the day’s receipts when Bronson rang the bell on his way through the door a few minutes later.
“Hey, Mr. Horum,” Bronson said, waving his hand in front of his face. “Sorry for the smell in here. I’ll scrub everything down in the morning.”
“Is better that I know where it comes from,” Mr. Horum said. “When you live back there I no know what going on. Lucky I never call firemen. Cindy is gone, yes?”
“Yeah,” Bronson said. He slumped his shoulders and let out a deep breath. “Look, I’m feeling pretty tired so I’m gonna hit the hay.”
“You trust her, yes?” Mr. Horum said as he locked the register. “Cindy? She good girl?”
“Why do you say that, Mr. Horum?”
“It silly I know, but I no remember most of stuff at park. I think about this today. First thing I remember is your Cindy when she find me. She very upset when I see her then. Looked worried. She hiding something. Of that I am sure.”
“You might not be as far off as you think,” Bronson said, checking the locks on the door. “Some guy told me she was keeping a secret, and I’m starting to think he must’ve been right.”
“You call her now,” Mr. Horum said. “We get her back here to tell us truth.”
“No. Whatever’s going on with her she wouldn’t keep it from me unless she had a good reason. She really does like me, if you can believe it. Maybe she’s trying to protect me from something. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. Heck, I lied to you about why I needed that cape one time.”
“What you want we do?” Mr. Horum asked.
Bronson pulled the trap door to his room open then climbed halfway down the ladder. “We let her tell us whenever she’d like. Couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out though. See if she does anything sneaky.”
“Super plan from super hero, hmmb? You go sleep. I finish up.”
“Night,” Bronson said, closing the trap door behind him. He kicked off his shoes then laid on his bed.
“Ouch,” he said. He’s hit his head on the two watches he’d stuffed in his pillow case that morning. He pulled them out stared at them for awhile, considering his choice.
“I know you’re listening, Willowwood,” he said to the ceiling. “I want you to know that whatever game you’re playing here I’ll figure it out. It’s a puzzle, right? I have to make a better choice than my dad, but I’m guessing you win whatever choice I make. I’m gonna solve this. I’m pretty sure you’re the bad guy. Bad news for you? The hero always beats the bad guy.”
Laughter from the tunnel attached to his room. Quiet at first but then louder and louder until it sounded like somebody was screaming it in Bronson’s ear. Then silence and a raspy, whispered voice spoke.
“You can try, but I’ll always come round again. I won’t stop till I win, D.B. As the time goes by, so we come to the blue river because time ahead of us is not endless. I’ll be watching to see what you cook up, lil’ superhero. I love a good show.”
The whispering stopped. Bronson pondered what the trickster could have meant— Blue river? Endless time?— as he drifted off to sleep. He dreams of the future, and for the first time in a long time he hopes his dreams come true.
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